Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The test was ready.

Everything was set, the room sanitized and devoid of any contaminants. Plain white, tiled, with in-set lighting, the testing cell was smooth and pristine. All furniture had been removed beforehand, everything except for a single biometric chair, equipped with multiple restraints, should it come to that. And it frequently did. The camera sat atop its tripod in the corner, red blinking light the only bright color.

Satisfied with the initial inspection, the head physician gave the nod, pleased with the pristine tableaux before him, alerting the others that the test was, in fact, ready.

The test subject, however, was not.

Two attendants, their hazmat suits erasing any trace of identity, struggled with the subject, straining to subdue, despite both having size and weight advantage. Wrists slipped out of restraints before they could be tightened, bodies moving and shoving against one another.

A door behind the physician opened, smooth footsteps echoing in the small observation room.

“What appears to be the problem?”

Dr. Elliott stopped next to the physician, stood before the triple-paned window separating creator from creation. His voice was clear and direct, his question meant only for the person with the answer.

"The subject seems to be showing resistance,” one of the attendants said with some strain, his voice sounding slightly mechanical as it filtered through the audio system.

“Yeah, no shit!”

The subject brought an unrestrained knee up as the answering attendant hovered to tighten a chest brace. The attack was not unsuccessful, but the second quickly saw to it that all limbs were finally strapped down.

“The subject is secured.”

Dr. Elliott made a soft tutting sound, the slightest shake of the head. They were two minutes behind schedule, regrettably due to the fruitless outburst. The physician had occasionally heard the subject referred to as “dramatic,” and not least by Dr. Elliott himself.

A moment later, the screens set into the panel before them whirred to life, biometric analysis coming through in real time via the chair. Heartrate, blood pressure, oxygen levels, all coming back normal. For now.

“Ready the vial,” the physician said into his speaker.

The third attendant, who had been standing silently in the corner, as they were instructed not to intervene, should something happen to the vial, now moved forward. The syringe was attached, and once again, all was ready.

“Wait!”

The subject’s head, unrestrained, flew up at the movement, previously distracted with testing the thick leather bands wrapped around it.

Wide eyes bounced from each body in the cell, before staring through the glass, fixating on Dr. Elliott.

“Stop, please.” The subject’s voice softened, brows pulling in. Meekness filled their features, a far cry from the hostility a moment before. “Please.” This plea was softer. “Don’t do this.” The bright eyes glistened with threatening tears, but fortunately, saline was sterile. “I don’t want to do this. I’m so tired.” Chest heaved, watery eyes blinked, lip may have even quivered. “Please.”

The silence was brief.

“Proceed.” Dr. Elliott’s fingers knit together behind his back, eyes forward.

The syringe was promptly injected into the test subject’s jugular vein, its attempts to pull away futile. The vial emptied into the bloodstream within a single second. With that, the three attendants backed away, leaving a clear view for both the observers and the camera.

The base virus was known to be prolific, with a one hundred percent infection rate, and plenty of field research to uphold its reputation. Spliced together with a more complex strain of another, and this test was infallibly lethal at even a partial dosage.

“Heartrate increasing.” The physician noted the changes, eyes flicking from the screens to the window. “Pressure is one-forty over ninety.”

Even without the readings, it was clear the virus was working. The test subject groaned with discomfort, breaths coming quick and shallow, head rolling back and forth. All at once, the subject let out a cry of pain, which was echoed by the monitors screaming back its data. Every vital had spiked, all readings nearing critical.

Leather binds creaked as they were strained, taut but holding firm, even as the subject began to thrash. No more words came out of it, no more snarky delays or empty pleas. Only formless sounds of pain and anger, muffling as the subject attempted to curl in on itself.

“BPM is one-fifty. Body temperature is one-oh-two point five.”

The groans and gasps no longer sounded human.

Dr. Elliott could only smile, bracing his hands against the monitors and leaning closer to the glass for a better view. “Now tell me, Taliah,” he spoke clearly, but with an amused lilt, no longer entirely objective. “How do you feel?”

The subject’s head snapped up. Chest heaving, covered in sweat, wisps of steam rising. Its mouth twisted into a sneer, eyes glaring directly at Dr. Elliott. Eyes that had once been a soft brown, now blood shot and murky.

Eyes that quickly lost focus as the virus took control.

Chapter Text

Every second that passed in silence brought FOS agent Ingrid Hunnigan closer to screaming. The cuticle on her thumb was long gone, so instead the tip of her nail scraped against raw skin, the repetitive discomfort somehow more soothing than the silence.

It was not so much the response she dreaded, but the inevitable battle that would follow. An exhausting back-and-forth that always had the same results. The unstoppable force of duty meeting the unmovable agent. And she would have to sit there and cite protocol all while sharing every bitter sentiment.

It was ridiculous. Of course, it was ridiculous, no one was trying to argue that it wasn’t. But that did not change the fact that it was now Ingrid’s burden to bear.

After a pause stretching toward eternity, pushing her to the brink of her well-honed, field-trained patience, a voice broke the silence.

“You’re joking.”

“Do I sound like I’m joking?” Ingrid shot back, her rattled nerves at fault for the slight outburst, and she silently scolded herself. Any other agent, any other situation, and she would have been perfectly able to keep herself together. But Leon had a way of getting under her skin, at the exact times it came in handy for him.

The screen of her satellite phone displayed a miniature and low-res version of DSO agent Leon Kennedy’s unamused face; the headshot looked far more placid than the real thing sounded.

He scoffed. “Is that really it?” His tone was incredulous, and she had to agree that it was warranted.

There was just not enough information. Not for her to feel comfortable, at least, and she would not be leaving the office.

The intel had come through in the middle of the night. Hackers employed by the government intercepted the ominous message. The intended recipient was unknown, but the context was more pressing.

At 0200 hours, Subject TT escaped the facility, heading south. Capture alive.

-E.Elliott

Two sentences, and yet the entire Division of Security Operations was in a fuss over it.

Dr. E. Elliott had been on the government’s watchlist for years, ever since an informant gave a list of names of anyone who had once been affiliated with pharmaceutical titan and bioterrorist organization, Umbrella. Previously an immunologist and hematopathologist, turned virologist under Umbrella’s command, Elliott had eluded authorities at every turn, disappearing completely during Umbrella’s collapse. But when it became clear that remaining affiliates were far from giving up their work, the DSO did not cease hunting down the names on the list.

Five years after the last trace of Elliott surfaced, the DSO had managed to close in on the man’s whereabouts, under the suspicions that he was still dealing in bioweapon engineering. And now suddenly they were handed not only a direct message from him, but with it a confirmation of another facility, of course they were going to immediately jump on the opportunity.

Despite having little more than those two measly sentences, the President green-lit the operation, and Ingrid was called to wrangle in the DSO’s favorite—albeit occasionally insubordinate—agent.

“Yes.” The word came out like an admission of guilt, and in truth it was.

Ingrid Hunnigan took her job seriously, she had to, when so many lives were often at stake. And with the role of support came a deep sense of responsibility, of moral obligation. Objectivity was mandatory when it came to the relationship between agents, those in the field and those behind the desk, but nearly impossible to maintain. She cared about the agents she supported. She cared that her skills could make or break a mission just as much as theirs. And she cared when the information she gave them was not good enough.

Another pause followed, and Ingrid carved away a little more of her cuticle.

“And this couldn’t wait until morning? It’s barely anything.”

“I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve got,” she bit out, shaking her head. “I know the intel is vague, I understand that, but it is imperative to get on top of the situation.” She sounded like any one of the higher up, the ones she’d roll her eyes at if she thought no one was looking. “If our suspicions are correct, and Dr. Elliott is running a BOW facility and one of them got out, we need to move now.” She sucked in a breath, setting her shoulders back and clenching her free fist. “I understand your frustrations, Agent Kennedy—” Another scoff at the formality, but Ingrid forged ahead regardless. “—but if there is a potentially dangerous BOW loose, lives could be at stake.”

There was another irritating pause, unfortunately followed by, “I like you more when you’re angry.”

“Leon!” It came out too harsh, exasperated, and Ingrid had to collect herself, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone else in the communications office had reacted. Agent Kennedy did not appreciate how much he could get away with, but Ingrid did not have the luxury. Or the charisma.

“Fine.” The response was sharp and weighed down with frustration, but softened into a heavy sigh that said more than words could. “Understood. Send me the files.”

Ingrid was already on it. Pushing her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose, she sent every file she was given on Dr. Elliott to Leon’s phone. It was still not enough, but at least they had moved past denial, anger, and bargaining; three of the five stages of telling Agent Kennedy his rest was over.

Depression and acceptance were his own to deal with, Ingrid had done her job. She effortlessly switched the call from her satellite phone to her headset, freeing her hands to type away at her computer, pulling up every shred of information available. And how ever he chose to handle it, Leon absorbed his briefing with silent stoicism.

By the time he hurriedly packed and rushed out, communications had managed to triangulate the message’s server of origin. The location was fairly rural, but tracking a southern trajectory, they narrowed in a small patch of civilization nestled beyond an expanse of woods. Aerial views showed a large structure halfway between the town and the server’s location. Calculating the time at which the subject was said to escape, the distance to the structure, and the relative speed something could be traveling, the DSO suspected it would be headed there first.

“Subject TT.” Leon read from the copy of the message, the first time speaking in several minutes. “Do we know what it even is?”

They did not, which only made the operation more dangerous. They were sending him in nearly blind, with no idea if what awaited him was a giant mutated creature or a carrier of some previously unknown virus. It was far from ideal, if anything could even be considered as such in their line of work.

But underneath the layers of bravado and cynicism, Agent Kennedy was a professional, and one with more experience in this kind of thing than anyone. “Must be something good, if they want it back alive.”

Ingrid had wondered the same. Umbrella was notorious for their cover schemes, going to extreme lengths to avert attention to their various nefarious dealings. Sending out an alert of an escapee was one thing, but requiring its survival set off red flags to her.

“All the more reason to find it before anyone else does.” She was calmer, more confident; they were on the same page again. “Find it, and if it proves to be a threat, destroy it.”

A single beat passed, and Ingrid figured they were done, but Leon suddenly countered, “And if it isn’t?”

Ingrid blinked, not having an immediate answer. “I suppose,” she began, waving a hand absently as she searched for an answer, “we cross that when we get to it.”

Agent Kennedy was not satisfied, she could tell, but fell silent all the same. Guilt bubbled in Ingrid’s gut. She glanced at her computer screen, looking at all of the information that only painted more questions. There had to be answers, somewhere.

“I’ll keep looking into it,” she promised, already typing away. “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I find anything.”

The silence was different. Ingrid could imagine him, sitting with his head propped on a hand, staring wistfully into the early morning darkness. Was it regret that pulled at the corners of his mouth? She suspected so.

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” he said, and the call ended.

Chapter Text

Taliah had to stop. The sun was rising in earnest now, and with it, the temperature. To anyone else it might have been a very pleasant late-spring morning, but Taliah had always run hot. She could be the only person shedding layers in winter due to overheating.

A sturdy tree provided support as she slumped against it, wiping her brow and shifting her tattered backpack off her shoulders. The hard dirt ground was blessedly cool, providing a temporary balm. Looking through the sparse contents of the bag, she reminded herself of priorities. She sighed and grabbed the rolls of bandages.

Shrugging off one sleeve of her jacket, fully aware that her current situation was not the most hygienic, she got to work switching her dressings. The wound on her arm still stung, but not so loudly as before. Bleeding had nearly stopped, which was an ironically good sign. The wound on her hip would just have to wait, as she was in no mood to strip in the middle of the woods. Though she felt it tear back open whenever she ran—or did anything strenuous, like throw herself on the ground under a tree—the pain was not severe enough to stop her.

She decided it would heal or it would not. Soon enough, it wouldn’t matter.

Letting herself catch her breath, she hungrily grabbed for the granola bar and water bottle from her bag. It wasn’t much, it was all she could manage to grab at the last minute, unfortunately having been cut off from the stash she’d been stockpiling all week. As she ate, she ran through the plan, closing her eyes and remembering the map she spent all those stolen seconds memorizing.

She was close. Maybe another few miles, but close enough. One obstacle at a time. Nothing was going to stop her, not when she had already come so far.

Breathing steadily again, Taliah shoved the garbage into the bag and climbed to her feet. Her hip gave a flare of pain in protest, but after a few minutes of steady walking, it quieted back down. She was determined to make it, with or without a working hip, and her body was seemingly always working against her.

The sun was bright and beaming down through the new leaves when she saw the first glimpse of the building. According to the map, she had come up behind it, the back and sides camouflaged within the woods. Fortunately, that was exactly where she wanted to be. The Playground was huge, and it took a while of walking the perimeter to find a way in.

The irony of the lack of emergency exits was not lost to her.

The metal double doors looked fairly impenetrable, as they were designed to be, but the key card reader set into the wall next to it looked much more her speed.

Reaching into her back pocket, Taliah pulled out the old key card, light scratched from use, and she prayed the microchip inside still worked. She held it up to the discreet black panel and held her breath.

After much too long of a delay, the panel chimed, a small light flashing green, and the sound of mechanisms unlocking within could be heard. Taliah blew out a huge breath. One less obstacle, only an indeterminate number left.

The warm sunlight followed her through the door, leaving abruptly as it slammed heavily behind her. She stood in cool darkness, her eyes taking their time to adjust, her skin drinking in the chilled, still air. She had grown to appreciate the darkness, the safety it provided. If you knew how to use it. A part of her wanted to collapse right there and let the world go on without her.

But of course, she couldn’t. She had a responsibility, a mission to see through. It had already cost her so much already, there was no stopping now. Not when she was halfway there. She was Dante, and the Playground was just the next circle of hell.

The only way out was through.

Before the light left her, Taliah had seen another set of double doors at the end of the hallway, and once her eyes adjusted, she could make out the sliver of light coming from the cracks between them. If she held her breath, she could hear the distant humming of the generator, weak power circulating through the dormant building like a pulse.

Why the generator was still on after all this time, or if it had been turned on recently, she did not know. She did not think she wanted to know, either.

But there was something else there, too, a rhythmic bass underneath. It was just barely there, and if she strained too hard to listen, her own pounding heartbeat would drown it out.

One way to find out, she told herself and began forward. The padding of her footsteps sounded unnaturally loud in the closed off space. She reached out a hand for the doors, relieved when they opened.

Sunlight washed over her, as warm and natural as it had been outside, sending Taliah twisting away and blinking back the pain. When her eyes stubbornly readjusted, she regained composure and looked around.

She was in a side hallway, the double doors behind her marked with “Employees Only” painted in vibrant yellow, with little to no sign of wear. A vending machine stood ahead of her, flanked by a pair of benches, but sadly showed that everything was sold out. More likely that it was never stocked in the first place. A potted plant disrupted the symmetry, clearly fake as its lush green leaves would indicate.

The side hallway was well lit, despite being covered, but the natural light pouring down from the glass ceiling that covered most of the building brought in a surplus. Framed posters advocating for various businesses lined the walls. Taliah’s attention bounced from one to the next as she walked.

It opened to an annex, carpeted, the perimeter lined with more sitting benches and fake shrubs. Clearly not meant to be a popular spot in this wing.

But Taliah stopped, smiling. That soft bass she heard before had more form to it, enough that she could finally discern what it was.

Whoever had left the radio on was either her new favorite person or her least. The music was tinny, slightly warbled and distorted from lack of quality and clarity. The speakers must have been widely dispersed or not all working, because the sound did not travel uniformly. It was bizarre and a little creepy, like a fever dream soundtrack, but Taliah didn’t hate it.

At least she would have something to listen to as she searched. Theoretically, it was better than silence.

She huffed out a bemused breath, shaking her head. “Good morning to you, too,” she said into the vacant space around her as she stepped further into the Playground. Closing her eyes, she saw the map and directory that were not supposed to be found. Except she’d stolen it all.

Just as they had stolen so much from her.

All the secret research, the planning, the sacrifices… It could not have been for nothing. Taliah would not let it be for nothing. She had her mission, and she’d already come this far. Standing in the building that did not exist, on the verge of cleaning up a mess she never asked for. She had a lot of ground to cover still; she needed to start looking.

Taliah shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and marched deeper into the Playground, knowing her time was soon running out, shaking away the thought that there was no way she would be the only one on the hunt.

Chapter Text

Leon did not know what he was looking at. The trees had cleared all at once, the unthawed dirt somehow hardening into pavement. He hadn't noticed at first, since the vegetation at his feet remained the same. Grasses and weeds sticking up through the cement, both sporadic and overgrown. And the GPS told him he was right where he wanted to be.

It would have just been odd if that was all; nature was known to reclaim its territory all the time. What stopped Leon in his tracks, however, was the building that rose from the horizon across the stretch of verdant pavement. The façade stood tall before him, but the rest disappeared behind the tree line. He pulled out his satellite phone and clicked on the aerial view that was sent to him.

No wonder Intel couldn't determine what the structure was or its size. The undergrowth around him obscured what he was now coming to realize was a parking lot, the weathered cement looking more like shadows from far above. He squinted at the image on the screen, recognizing the gray shape poking out of the trees as the wall in front of him, but he could see it continue far back into the woods. He could have studied the aerial images for days and still never figured out what he was looking at.

It was a mall. Leon was undeniably looking at the front entrance to a 90s era mall, complete with glass paneled atrium sticking out, domed, just behind the entrance. The sign welded above the front doors, in a truly retro font, read "Playground Plaza."

He sent the call via his earpiece as he moved forward, the sun finally starting to warm the air, though his breath still clouded as he exhaled. His eyes scanned the open area, sweeping back and forth. He had not encountered anything or anyone since getting dropped off in the nearby town, but that did not mean that the target wasn't nearby.

"I see you've made it to the location," Hunnigan's voice sounded in his ear. It was the phone they were tracking, which he knew, but it continually felt the tiniest bit intrusive. Mother Hen should know that he was going to check in without feeling the need to wait by the phone.

"Yeah," he confirmed, deciding to move quicker than a leisurely stroll. He was not exactly there to get last-minute Christmas presents. "Get this, it's a mall." The pause that followed did not surprise him. He would be nice and help her out.

"Called the Playground Plaza. Looks abandoned." There were no rusted cars, over-turned shopping carts, or any debris that wasn't blown out of the woods, but it was still desolate. And if anyone knew the look, it was him.

He heard the soft clacking of her fingers typing at her keyboard.

"Are you sure?"

Leon looked up as he approached the entrance annex. "Positive."

More tapping. "There is no record of a Playground Plaza mall being built in that location. Or anywhere, for that matter."

Secret mall, Leon thought. He crossed under the shade of the entrance’s overhang, scanning the multiple sets of doors, seeing only his reflection. Out of curiosity, he tried a door handle. Locked. Then he noticed the broken glass, the graffiti, the signs of activity that were not caused by time and the elements.

"Someone knows it's here," he quipped. None of the doors had been broken, but instead the floor-to-ceiling windows between them. Two panes looked to be broken, the glass shards resting on the patterned carpet inside, a clear sign of a break in.

And therefore, not a break out.

There was no way of knowing when the break in had occurred--the nearby graffiti was dry--but it could still be what he was looking for. He doubted an Umbrella test subject on the run would think to look for a backdoor.

"I'll look into it," Hunnigan assured, and Leon suspected she was already several tabs deep into her search.

"Going in," was his response, more to himself since he ended the call with that.

He carefully ducked through the open pane, glass crunching beneath his boots. The vestibule between the outside doors and the doors leading inside was littered with debris, dirt, more glass, and a few more graffiti tags. Civilians had confirmed broken in at some point. If any were still around, that would complicate things.

One of the interior doors had been broken, and Leon frowned as he stepped through. The length of people’s entitlement always upset him, and while he himself had definitely committed more than a few B&Es, there was always a greater need for them. He could not see a need here beyond trespassing for the thrill of it at best, looting at worst.

Light shone done through the glass dome ceiling of the atrium, warming the space that otherwise should have held the cold of a long winter. The aged-pattern rug muffled his footsteps as he walked, taking it all in, as if he required a sound justification for his gut reaction.

There was no longer a doubt in his mind that the Playground Plaza was a giant mall. Everything beyond the atrium was something out of a time capsule. The corridor stretched away before him, expanding up to a second, balconied floor. Stripes of sea foam green and salmon pink decorated the otherwise empty swaths of wall, geometric shapes rising from the meridian to create lifeless planters and dried up fountains. There might have even been a few neon accents mixed into the lights, but the splashes of sunlight washed it out.

Not too shabby of a hideout, Leon thought. However.

Two things quickly stuck out as odd to him.

One, the music was still on, distant and eerie and vague enough that it might have slipped away into the background on a busy day. But as he walked the silent, empty corridors, the ambience gave to more of a horror vibe than he wanted.

Two, the mall did not look ransacked and left to rot. It looked unfinished, as if abandoned before it had ever been finished.

The technicolored storefronts that lined every visible wall stood dark, but open, and Leon could see that only a handful nearby had any stock. Others contained fixtures, but not much else; less like bones picked clean, and more like framework with nothing built up from it. Kiosks were identical and barren.

And then the stores themselves felt unfinished, some sporting names like Crafty Store and Teen Grunge and Just Jewelry, while many had no name at all.

The mall looked finished—structurally—but not fully formed. Not thought out all the way.

Hauntingly, it was not the first time Leon wondered if he had accidentally walked into a simulation. But he shook his head at the thought. The economy being what it was, brick and mortar retail stores were dying everywhere, companies declining to lease spots in malls in favor of online shopping. It was more likely that the developer had called it quits before amassing more debt.

But the music was on, and some the light fixtures shone where roof had no skylights built in or where the second floor blocked out the sun. Meaning the generator was still running. That, he could not account for.

Passing around a bare-bones kiosk, he spotted an illuminated sign, “Directory” displayed above it. Below was an illustration of the store map, with color-coded areas as opposed to a list of stores; it was already obvious that would not help anyone if half of the stores were anonymous.

According to the map, the mall was sectioned into four main wings, one in each cardinal direction. Like a cross. Each wing was labeled in bright red: North, South, East, and West. The “You are here” icon claimed Leon was in the South Wing, halfway to the center. The East and West Wings all dead-ended in a much larger store, with the South housing the entrance and the North displaying a food court.

The wings were connected by smaller plazas, each with an oddly whimsical name labeled in white. Temperance Plaza in the Northeast, Gratitude Plaza in the Northwest, Compliance Plaza in the Southeast, and Mercy Plaza in the Southwest. They did not look to contain stores, but it was hard to tell from the vague representation.

“Wait…” Leon breathed. Something about the map pulled at a part of his brain, radiating with familiarity.

Eight mostly equal portions of a large octagon, alternating red and white segments.

Dread settled in his stomach. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He leaned back slightly, blurring his eyes to the detail, seeing only the shapes and the colors.

Not unlike the top-down view of an open red and white umbrella.

Leon took out his satellite phone and snapped a picture of the map; it somehow seemed much more obvious through the smaller screen. “Have fun with that,” he muttered as he sent the picture to Hunnigan.

Just as the attachment sent, a clattering sound rippled through the almost-silence, coming from far off in the building. Leon started, one hand reflexing toward the holster at his side, ducking around the sign to scan for any immediate threat.

The sound could have been anything, coming from anywhere in the mall, and that made it worse. And now his mind was reeling. He took a step forward, and silence followed, which only left space for his thoughts to run away.

Was Umbrella really in the process of building a mall? Was that really such a wild thought? Back in the day, the conglomerate seemed to have its fingers everywhere, stringing strands of its twisted web onto whatever it could. And now a test subject escaped from a facility run by one of Umbrella’s mad scientists and had headed here. Is there any way this could be an insane coincidence?

Leon did not think so. He did not get out of bed for coincidences.

The light faded as he moved forward, the floorplan closing back in with the natural light getting filtered out.

Nothing about this mission was sitting right with him, and each new piece of information only muddied up the waters.

Leon halted. A shuffle, to his left. The storefront of Many Books was open, and it certainly was. And not only was it stocked, but also one of the rare stores that had the lights on. The sound came from within, he was sure. Silently stepping inside, he scanned between the bookshelves, moved around the tables and display. The rich scent of old paper filled the space, and he was a little surprised to see that some of the books were real, recognizable even.

What was not real seemed to be the source of the sound, since Leon searched every inch of the store and did not find anything.

He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. It was too early in this growing shitshow to start losing it. He was supposed to be tracking. Well, he followed the white rabbit to Wonderland, but no one had come to greet him.

He headed out of the store and turned to continue his search.

Suddenly, a solid force slammed into his front, throwing off his stride and knocking him back a step. A high-pitched sound emitted from whatever he just walked into. Startled, he looked up—

—and into the face a girl, her eyes wide, looking every bit as surprised as him.

He blinked, but when his eyes opened again, the world was dark. The lights were off, the music silenced abruptly, and the entire building gave a wheeze as the generator powered down.

The only sound that followed was of feet running in the opposite direction.

Chapter Text

Leon needed a split second to shake himself off. “Hey!” he called after the girl, her quick steps fading with distance, even in the now silent building. “Wait!”

She clearly was not coming back on that alone.

One hand at his holster, the other reached around to a slot on his utility belt, blindly plucking out his flashlight. It was not pitch black, it was still fairly visible once his eyes adjusted, but the change in environment set him on edge. Any stores that had interior lights on were dark, making just too many hiding spots for his liking.

He sent out the call as he headed in the direction the girl had run. "Hunnigan."

"Any update on locating the target?" She sounded distracted, going through the motions while focusing on something else.

"About that."

In the flash that Leon has seen of the girl, he was able to pick up on her shoulder-length hair--was it white? Was is chestnut? He swore he saw both--her shabby looking clothes, and her large, terrified hazel eyes. Scared and seemingly harmless. Plus, she had run away from him.

"Not exactly. Things have gotten a little more complicated. There's a civilian in here." He moved forward methodically, shining the light into and onto everything he came across.

"Great," Hunnigan groaned, and he swore that after all this time, he was rubbing off on her. "Are they with you currently?"

"No." Because he let his guard down. "We ran into each other, but then the power got cut, and she ran off." And if she gets attacked by a mutated creature, that is all on him.

"The power is off?"

"That, or I've gone half blind."

Two clicks on her end, before she said, "Satellite readings still show a power source in that location." More tapping, and Leon moved to another corridor. "It must be that the generator is cycling power between sources. Which means it'll be coming on and off at certain intervals."

Leon could feel her thoughts churning, imagined her staring intently into the middle distance.

"And added to the fact that this place was built by Umbrella--" she began slowly, confirming she had received Leon's message.

"It makes this whole thing weirder," he finished for her.

"Oh, that's right," she piped up, at the same time that Leon heard clattering coming from up ahead. According to he map, he was now in the West Wing. Whenever the ceiling above him opened up to the balcony, it let in a bit more light.

"We received some more Intel." She sounded hesitantly delighted.

"I'm all ears," Leon said back in a whisper, hearing the clattering again. It coming from the end of the wing.

"There was a data breach from Dr. Elliott's facility, which is why we were able to intercept the message in the first place. Well, our hackers are still trying to get everything they can, but we did manage to get our hands on some of the previous test reports. Intel is going through them now. I'll tell you the moment we know anything."

"Do any of them say what it actually is?" Or how big it is? How many teeth he may need to worry about. Something was definitely moving around in one of the stores nearby.

"No," her voice was hesitant, pulling away. She must been looking some of them over now. "It's strange."

"Strange? From Umbrella?"

But she was not paying attention to him anymore. Which was fine, since he found the store, the clattering and clomping coming from within, darkness shrouding all but a few feet past the threshold.

"Report back soon." And then the call ended. He did not know if she meant herself or him, but he was too preoccupied.

The store was called Hunters Club, and from what Leon could see from the sweeps of his flashlight, it certainly was; an outdoor sporting and hunting store. The beam of his light bounced off the strips of reflective material on hanging jackets near the entrance.

The sound of something bumping into a table and dislocating it pulled him in.

Unholstering his handgun from its trusty spot at the top of his thigh, Leon took a steadying breath. In a single, smooth movement, he checked that a round was chambered and the safety was off. Finger off the trigger, he crossed his wrists, firearm on top, flashlight in the bottom and illuminating down the sights.

He was calm, he was ready. This had long ago become his new normal, and he let the highly trained part of his brain take over as he entered the store.

Scan left. Clear. Scan right. Clear. Advance. Repeat.

The store was surprisingly well stocked. Racks of camouflaged clothes and gear created a labyrinth to navigate, several had been knocked over. Display cases lined the parallel walls. Fishing equipment, camping gear, baiting and trapping supplies. All wrapped in an oblong store decorated with wilderness wallpaper and wildlife cardboard cutouts.

The taxidermy black bear next to the checkout made his trigger finger twitch for half a heartbeat.

What it lacked, noticeably, was anything that could be used as a weapon. Fishing rods stood without tackle, bows without arrows. One display case advertised hunting knives but sat completely empty.

Just as he approached what he suspected to be a mannequin donning a ghillie suit to inspect it, something made a grunting snort, in the darkness to his right. His body snapped in that direction, light scanning. Somehow, he seriously doubted a frightened girl could make that noise; it was too animalistic.

Moving forward, he found the table that had been moved, diagonal from the rest. Glancing down, he registered that it was a display for deer baiting. The contents may have once been neatly organized, but were now strewn about.

The gurgling, guttural sound was close now, just out of sight, and Leon shut down all emotions.

“Who’s there?” he called, ready for the hide-and-seek game in the dark to be over.

He got his wish when a head rose sharply from behind a rack of camo rain jackets, and with it, a rack of antlers. Momentarily thinking it had to be one of the cutouts, Leon stared into the beady eyes of the animal, which seemed just as confused by the sudden confrontation.

The stag stood at the height of Leon’s chest, but the rather imposing antlers branched up to be level with his head.

“Guess the bait works,” Leon grumbled. A little too well. He guessed this thing did not get in the same way he did, but that was a puzzle to be solved later. “You wouldn’t happened to go by the name Subject TT, would you?”

The animal raised its head to give a loud whining screech that deepened into the same grunting from before as its head bowed low. Barbed antlers pointed directly at him.

Leon sighed. “That’s inconclusive—shit!”

The stag charged, and Leon leapt sideways, ungracefully scrambling up on the display table, sending the remaining contents clattering to the floor. The stag rammed past, antlers thrashing instead into a rack of clothes, quickly getting tangled.

“Dammit.”

Space, Leon’s brain computed. He needed more space.

He holstered his handgun mid-pivot, running and twisting around the obstacles as he raced for the entrance. He could hear the hooves pounding behind him, covering ground faster, but with less traction than his boots. However, the stag had no problems barreling through anything else in its way.

The moment he crossed the threshold and the world opened around him, Leon dove to the side, tucking and rolling out of the way just as the brown mass skittered by with unbroken momentum. The animal collided with the opposite wall and stumbled, dazed.

“Season’s closed, pal,” Leon hissed, regaining composure.

The soft snort that followed did not come from the deer. Leon glanced in the direction of the sound, not wanting to take his attention from the current problem, but his head snapped back the moment he registered what he saw.

She was standing on a staircase landing that led up to the second floor, positioned halfway up where it turned ninety degrees, leaning forward on the railing. The sunlight came down from a skylight behind her, backlighting her and softening her edges. She almost did not look real.

“Are you winning?” she asked, and Leon could hear the smirk in her voice. She rested her chin in a hand, looking from him to the recovering stag with subdued amusement.

Leon did not have time to answer. In his distraction, the stag had begun another charge at him, and this time, he did not have the time to dodge. Instead, he managed to side-step and twist to avoid being skewered, but the animal tossed its head at the last second. Leon took the curved side of the antler rack to his ribs, and he flew back several feet, sliding until the bottom of the staircase stopped him.

“Pretend you didn’t see that,” Leon said through gritted teeth, palm to his chest to feel for pain, thankfully finding nothing worse than the ache of future bruising.

The girl inhaled through a grimace, a pitying look on her face. “But I did, though.”

He tilted his head up to look at her. Though upside down, he could finally see that he had been right before; her hair was shoulder-length, the top half pulled back into a small chignon, leaving wispy bangs across her forehead. The top section was a warm chestnut color and glowed a fiery copper where the sun hit it directly, but the underneath was white.

The way she was looking at him, with the same curious assessment in her eyes, brought Leon to his feet. He had taken worse hits and shaken them off. He wanted to know her name and what she was doing in a place like this. And how he could help her.

But first…

“Excuse me,” he said with a nod and slight smirk, turning back to the stag. He had a plan this time. And an audience.

He ran back into the store, knowing the path to take and even managing to kite the pursuing animal into several obstacles, buying him precious moments as the long legs and wide antlers worked against it. Something had drawn the stag in in the first place, held its attention for long enough while Leon first inspected the store. Something from the bait selection.

He found the stock again where he had kicked it away during his escape. A bright green cylindrical can remained on the table and he grabbed it. Tilting the can as the label instructed, an oddly natural bleating emitted from it. The responding whine came from behind him.

He turned to go, but something caught his attention. A strong, sharp odor that he had not noticed before. At his feet, where the deer had been standing at the start of this rodeo, he found a small, hard plastic bottle, the cap cracked, allowing the contents to a sliver of space to seep out.

Keeping the bottle at arm’s length, Leon read the label. Doe urine.

“Who says romance is dead?”

It’ll have to do. With his extra time, Leon grabbed a bungie cord off a camping tent display and bound the sound to the smell. He ran back out of the store, and now frustrated deer at his heels.

“Go get her,” Leon said, launching the bait as hard as he could down the corridor in the opposite direction. The bleating faded away before the smell ever did, but he heard it impact, bounce and roll.

The stag glared at him for a final, tense moment, but relented and broke away, eagerly chasing the bait.

Leon stood victoriously for a moment, taking in deep, steady breaths to combat the adrenaline. In through the nose, hold; out through the mouth, hold. He did not want to hold.

“I’m—” he began, turning towards the stairs, but stopped when he saw the empty landing. The girl was gone again, and Leon deflated.

But a pop of color caught his attention, and he moved forward. Climbing the steps, he saw the scrap of paper wedged between a crack in the railing’s welding. It was torn from a flier. For what, he did not care, because obscuring the background graphics were words looped carefully in a thick pen.

Happy hunting. And avoid the free samples! (They’ll make you sick.)

XO -Taliah

Leon could not help but smile. He had a name, at least. When his heartrate returned to normal, he sent the call. It could not hurt, he told himself as he pocketed the note.

“Any update?”

Leon rubbed a hand over his tender ribs. “This place is more popular than I thought. Some of the wildlife has managed to get in.”

Hunnigan never missed a beat. “So it’s very likely the target has as well. Any luck tracking it?”

He shook his head, hair swishing out of his eyes. “Not yet. This place is huge. If it’s hiding, there’s no shortage of dark corners for it to hunker down in.”

“Hmm.” There was the faintest sound down the line that Leon had come to learn was Hunnigan pushing her glasses farther up her nose. Usually with the middle finger of her left hand. He could picture her doing it. “Well, keep looking. Any update on the civilian?"”

“I bumped into the girl again.” He stood where she stood, leaned where she had, looking over what had been her front row seat to the strangest rodeo ever. “She ran off again, but apparently her name is Taliah.” He glanced up where the stairs continued to the second floor. “She can’t have gotten far.”

“Taliah?” she repeated, with a strange emphasis that Leon could not place.

He heard the sudden clacking of computer keys, Hunnigan evidently chasing a mental lead. He opened his mouth to ask, but the entire mall groaned. With a pop, the lights came back on, the eerie music wafting through the settling air, waking back up after missing all the excitement.

Chapter Text

Taliah was going to regret this.

Her list was regrets was a mile long at this point, but it grew with every step along the hideous carpet she took. She made sure to keep her hands in her pockets with elbows locked against her sides, toes curled in her shoes to keep them from slipping and squeaking. She knew how to walk silently; she had years of practice. Even with the music back on, she was not taking any chances.

Well, that was not entirely true. If she wasn’t taking chances, she would not currently be following the man who was not supposed to be here.

To be fair, he followed her first, coming up the stairs minutes behind her. She stood silently inside the anchor store of the West Wing, some anonymous caricature of a name-brand department store, and watched him. When he could not immediately spot her, he turned and began down the balcony walkway. He would walk to a store front, stop to inspect it from the threshold, and then move on to the next one.

The man had ventured about fifty feet when Taliah silently crept out of her hiding spot. She could leave, disappear again. Go back down the stairs, into the adjoining plaza and slip around the perimeter. She could keep her guard up for good this time, knowing to be vigilant of her surroundings.

But of course, she did not do the smart thing. She began walking after him, eyes fixed to his back. The only smart decision she made was to keep to the opposite balcony; though the two sides would join at certain intervals, it was enough space between them to justify it to herself.

Without trying, she fell in step behind him. When he moved, she moved. When he stopped, she froze, ready to dive into cover at a moment’s notice.

Maybe it was the fact that she had run into him twice, been within arm’s reach, and she had walked—well, ran the first time—away unharmed that gave her an inappropriate sense of security. If he was there for her, she had naïvely given him two prime opportunities.

The first time was an absolute accident. She had no idea anyone else was in the building. The bookstore was near the entrance, so it didn’t take much to figure out how he got in.

The second time was her own selfish curiosity. She wanted a better look at him. And when she heard the commotion, the stairs seemed like a safe vantage point; she could run either up or down if she had to.

The deer was a surprise. But it fortunately worked as an excuse to linger. His attention was clearly needed elsewhere, giving her the rare opportunity to openly stare at the stranger. She had not intended on interacting with him, though, but she could not help herself.

The worst part was even after all her ogling, she still could not tell if the man was a threat or not.

She wasn’t stupid, she knew what a gun holster looked like. The black handle sticking out of the top of the dark leather strapped around his thigh gave away its contents anyway. The knife at his shoulder and the utility belt equipped with magazine pouches—she counted at least four—was not exactly the standard for urban explorers. This man was certainly not a civilian, and she was stupid if she even tried to consider he was here by accident.

So then why was he here? What was he doing? Why was she ignoring every shred of sense to—

“You know,” the sudden clearness of his voice startled her, and her pace faltered, rocking back on her heel. “You’re not the first person to leave me love letters.”

He hadn’t even turned around, keeping his pace as before, but it was beyond obvious that he was talking to her.

She had fallen behind a stride or two, but fell back in step with him as if pulled in by the tide. Her lips curled upward without permission.

“With hair like that, I doubt I’ll be the last.”

The note was a bad idea, she knew, but justified it as a precaution. On the microscopic chance that he was there by accident—guess she must be stupid—then she wanted to make sure he stayed clear of the traps. The fact that he was in the building at all royally screwed every single one of her plans, making her constantly rethink her strategy. She did not need any more complications.

Or anything worse than a sexually frustrated buck running around.

He stopped, and so did she. The smile that had clearly been on his face a moment before was falling when he turned to face her. “You shouldn’t be in here, you know.” The soft concern in his voice threw her.

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “What? Are you a cop?” It was an accusation she knew the answer to. If he was, they would not both still be there. Not in one piece, at least.

He turned away again. “No.”

The answer was short, devoid of warmth. The drastic change in tone brought a chuckle out of her.

“Sorry,” she said, trying to hide her snicker. He had caught her off-guard, was she really going to show her hand so soon to do the same to him? “You’re just packing a whole lot of heat for a mall walker.” Evidently yes.

The gamble won her a half head turn, his profile partially shielded by light brown hair—dark blond? Did it even matter? The lines of his face were smooth and calm, emotionless.

Taliah’s smirk grew; she knew a poker face when she saw one. She took long, loose strides down the balcony, hands clasped behind her. It was dumb, showboat-y, but she felt proud of gaining even an inch over the stranger.

“Looks like you’re trespassing, same as me.”

He turned fully to face her, and she knew by the tilt of his head, the set of his shoulders, that he was accepting her game. She did not even know his name, but she was beginning to understand him.

“Why are you here, exactly?” he questioned, hands on his hips.

Taliah swung her body around, draping her arms against the balcony railing and leaning against them. “Looking for something,” she said casually, knowing full well that was exactly what she needed to be doing instead. “What are you doing here?”

He stared her down. “Looking for something.” He matched her tone exactly.

A coldness washed through her then, a panic that demanded attention. She forced her face to remain the same, thankful for the distance. Deep breath, she told herself. Don’t let him see.

“I sure hope we’re not looking for the same thing.” Stupid, she was so stupid for doing this. Why can’t she make the right decision for once? “That might get awkward.”

If he was looking for the serum, it would get much worse than awkward. It would be his firearm against her absolutely nothing.

But for some odd reason, he snorted. “I seriously doubt it.”

Taliah remained unconvinced. She needed to get away, she needed to get back to looking. She was wasting time, making everything harder for herself. While her face was still smirking, her insides were crumbling, palms beginning to sweat.

She shrugged. “Good luck, then, I guess.” She hoped he would trip and fall over the railing. Maybe the buck would come back for round two. It would take all her effort, but she could walk casually away, like nothing was wrong.

“Wait. Taliah.”

Her body froze on the spot. If he could see her face, he would know she had cracked. The quickening breaths caught in the back of her throat.

She had signed her name on the note out of habit. It had been so long since she heard anyone say it—anyone worth hearing it from. The last person had to have been…

She looked over her shoulder at the man who was potentially unaware that he was ruining her life. He had moved closer.

“We should stick together.” He sounded like he believed it, too. “It’d be a lot safer.”

A corner of her mouth lifted sadly. She had no more playful banter left to give.

“For who?”

She did not let him answer. If he called after her again, she did not listen. Eyes forward, arms crossed over her chest in a feeble attempt to hold herself together, she did not stop walking.

He might not be there for her. He might not be there for the serum. This whole thing might have been a bizarre, unrelated coincidence, but it did not matter. He was there, and Taliah would have to work around that. She would have to rethink everything.

Lost in paranoid thought, she marched across the bridge that connected the West Wing balcony to the East, passing over the large center atrium that Eric had put so much thought into designing. She was happy to ignore it.

The East Wing looked exactly the same to her, the same unimaginative design with the same pointless crap. The more she walked, the angrier she got at herself, and the more she wanted to set the entire place on fire.

The touch at her elbow made her jump, barely holding in a yelp and she whipped around.

The stranger held up his out-stretched hand in surrender, even taking a step back to give her space to recover. She stared with open confusion at him, noticing the way his breaths came heavier than normal. Had he run after her? She saw him run before; he could have easily caught her before then. Had he waited, lingered, debated whether to go after her?

“If you’re looking for something in here,” he said, low and steady, like he was trying to calm down a hyper dog. Maybe he saw something in her face that told him to tread carefully. Good, she thought. “Then we could look together.”

Who the hell was this guy? He genuinely looked kind, searching her face for something she could only guess at. She shook her head at him, more from disbelief. He was either less lucky than she was to end up in a place like this, or he was a Grade-A mastermind.

“You don’t take rejection well, do you?” Her voice sounded so soft, not quite defeated, more than a little incredulous.

He cracked a grin. She wished he would stop doing that; it was nice to look at. She also wished that she had not noticed in that moment that his eyes were blue.

“You’d be surprised.”

What the hell could she say to that? Nothing, evidently, since she just stood there with one brow arched. Running from him was starting to look more like a necessity than a possibility.

He blinked, straightening. Clearing his throat, he threw a look back over his shoulder.

“Hang on a sec,” he said while turning. “I think I saw a map.”

It was Taliah’s turn to blink herself back to reality.

He had doubled back to the overpass that connected one side of East’s balcony to the other. The small kiosk actually had stuff on it, not unlike one she searched earlier, where she had ripped a piece of paper for her note. Random odds and ends, outdated magazines, and on the counter was a rack of various brochures. One of them clearly had “Mall Map” across the front.

She thought he meant a directory. “Not one of those,” she said, too calmly, too softly. He had not heard. Her feet mindlessly moved her forward, heaviness growing in her stomach. Had there been a “free samples” sign on that one? Was it on the opposite side, out of sight.

Her pace quickened as he approached the kiosk’s counter. Eyes darting into every nook and cranny of the octagonally hut. Maybe she was paranoid. Maybe this one was safe.

But then she saw the mechanism, hidden where the plastic overhang met a support beam.

“No no, wait, don’t!”

Taliah never felt herself lunge forward, but she felt her hands connect with the man’s back. She felt her momentum collide into him, moving him forward. She swore she felt the mechanism trigger.

The dart hit her with enough force to send her stumbling sideways. She hit a wall hard, light bursting behind her eyes. The pain in the back of her shoulder guided her hand, and she yanked the dart without hesitation.

Her mind was still catching up as she peered down at the empty vial, its contents now coursing through her bloodstream. She did not need to read the label, she already knew.

She was very quickly going to find out if this man was friend or foe. He just didn’t know it yet.

Chapter Text

Leon caught himself as he stumbled forward, momentarily dazed. He had heard Taliah shout something, and then she shoved him away. But just after, he heard a soft thwick of something pass by behind him. Regaining his balance, he spun around, hand at his holster.

Taliah was leaning against the blank wall between the two closest stores, huddled and reaching over her shoulder. His trained eyes scanned the area, but nothing computed as an immediate threat.

“Dammit.”

The word hissed out of her mouth with force, and she threw something small onto the ground away from her. Her face was twisted into a strained grimace.

Leon rushed forward. “Are you okay?”

“Stay back!” she yelled, a ferocity in her voice that he could scarcely believe she was capable of.

He frowned in confusion. Had he done something? He thought he might actually be getting through to her, but she looked hurt and was clearly upset. Something had happened.

Then he remembered the sound, the way her body fell perpendicular to his. And the thing she threw on the ground. He found it on the carpet, carefully picking it up. It was a small dart, empty. A miniscule label wrapped around the vial. He recognized the red and white logo instantly. His thumb covered some of the typed text, but what was visible was enough.

T-virus.

A weight crashed down on him all at once. The dart dropped from his fingers as his arms fell to his sides. A thousand curses formed on his tongue, but he did not have the breath for any of them. His fault, he thought. His only thought for several heartbeats. This was his fault. He should have paid closer attention. He should have insisted they stick together before. He should have run after her the moment she turned away. He should have protected her. It was all his fault.

Maybe it was fool’s hope, maybe it was guilt, but Leon forced himself to look at Taliah. She leaned heavily into the wall, head resting against it. Her eyes were screwed shut, mouth a tight line. A layer of sweat had broken out across her skin, which already looked a shade paler.

No amount of hope could override years of instinct. He knew what the infection looked like, every stage of it.

A moan of pain rumbled in her throat as she folded forward, arms pressed into her stomach. This poor girl did not ask for any of this. Leon wanted to scream, to break something, break everything. It was only when his fingers brushed against the butt of his gun that he snapped back to reality.

That was his punishment, wasn’t it? It was his fault that she got infected, it was his responsibility to put her out of her misery. She would only get worse as the seconds ticked by. It was the only relief he could give her.

His left hand wrapped around his right as he raised the gun. Safety off. Trigger finger locked straight, hesitating.

Taliah managed to look up then, and Leon watched her bloodshot gaze travel from him to the barrel pointed at her. “Wait—” she began to say, but the word caught in her throat. She stumbled forward as a coughing fit stole her breath. Unable to right herself, she fell onto her hands and knees, hacking violently.

Leon only had time for the thought that her infection was progressing quickly before his mind was silenced by beeping in his ear. He at least had the curtesy to back up several paces before answering the call, one finger on his earpiece, gun still in his right hand.

“Not a good time, Hunnigan,” he bit out, trying to keep one eye on Taliah’s writhing body, but keep his voice pointed away.

Hunnigan’s voice had already formed a syllable, but she cut herself off. A full beat passed. “Why? What’s happened?”

His punishment was getting worse. Great. He was going to have to also confess his sins. “One of the kiosks was rigged with a booby trap. It was…” He shook his head. Fucking Umbrella. “It was loaded with a dart containing the T-virus.”

“You’re okay, right?” The question came out fast, concerned. Mother Hen reflexes.

Of course, he was fine. Beside than the fact that every DSO agent was inoculated with every vaccine that existed, it was his curse to survive. His burden to walk away from things other people—good people—never stood a chance. Why would this stupid mission be any different?

“Leon?”

Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and did his damn job.

“I’m fine. But Taliah…” Warned him. Pushed him out of the way. Took the dart for him. “She was hit. She’s been infected.”

That had quickly become an understatement. Still on all fours, still struggling to breathe. The coughing had twisted into deep heaves and strangled gasps. Her glistening skin was somehow both flushed and losing color. Dark veins were visible on her neck.

It was cruel, leaving her alive only to suffer while he played Big Boy Bureaucrat. What a hero he had become.

He moved toward her again, filled with a conviction he did not deserve. This was how he could help her. “Taking care of it now.”

The poor girl did not have the strength to lift her head, but he swore he heard her attempt to speak. He owed her a thousand apologies, but his voice was gone. He was cold and tired, mind already on the paperwork that would be waiting for him and all he had of her was her name and her blood on his hands.

He took aim.

“Hold your fire, Leon.”

The order was direct, and the training took over. Leon’s arms dropped forty-five degrees into a low ready position on command before his brain had anything to say about it.

“Are you serious?” It sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth, like a whining kid. No part of him wanted to kill her, but no part of him wanted to watch her suffer more than she already was. At this rate, she would turn in a matter of minutes. He doubted she would want that.

“Hunnigan, she’s infected.”

“Leon, hold your fire and stand down!” Hunnigan actually barked.

Again, his body obeyed, though his mind rebelled. “Why the hell—”

“Taliah is Subject TT.”

That… was not what he was expecting to hear. “What?” Was she really trying to convince him that the half-zombified girl collapsed in front of him was some Umbrella science experiment?

Think about it, the agent part of his brain told him. Really think about it. She was in the predicted place at the predicted time. She seemed to know her way around. The elusive behavior, her rejection of his help. Why else would she be there?

Leon shook his head; it was all too circumstantial for his liking. “Are you positive?”

“Thanks to the data leak, I was able to get my hands on some of the previous test reports—”

“That’s not a yes, Hunnigan.”

“—And in all of the reports filed under various scientists, they only refer to the test subject as Subject TT.” He opened his mouth again, but she must have anticipated his dissatisfaction. “But! In all reports filed by Dr. Elliott directly, he refers to her as Taliah.”

Was that enough?

He did not have the opportunity to consider it. The Taliah in front of him had begun convulsing.

“So, what does all of this mean, exactly?” The mission only got murkier with every new piece of information. He needed a concrete reason why he was being forced to watch this girl die.

And it looked like she was about to. Though she had managed to straighten somewhat, kneeling awkwardly, she was hyperventilating. But Leon doubted that was even accurate anymore. Her breaths were rapid, faster than should be possible, and too shallow to be providing any air. Her skin was a sickly blue-grey, mottled by dark, bulging veins.

“If these test records are correct, Taliah has been tested with the T-virus a total of eighteen times spanning the last three years.” She said it so calmly, like a mildly entertaining piece of trivia.

A stricken, strangled sound tightened in Taliah’s throat as she convulsed again, back arching with her face toward the ceiling. Her breath stopped completely. Her eyes were open wide, but were now milky, filmed over and sightless. Her mouth hung open, waiting for air that was never going to come.

Silence followed.

Leon did not think he had stopped shaking his head. Was it still disbelief if what he knew what would happen did anyway? She was gone. Just like so many uncountable others had before his own eyes. She was gone—

Taliah lurched forward suddenly, landing on her hands as she vomited violently. Leon sprang back to ready, watching in horror and fascination. The bile that came out of her was black and oddly textured. She expelled more than Leon thought a person’s stomach could hold.

After a full minute, she coughed up the last, solid masses coming up. She choked on the next few breaths, but soon her airway was clear, and she was heaving at a much more normal pace.

A shaky hand lift, pressed to her forehead. Her skin was pink, flushed with living blood. Steady breaths were coming to her now, and slowly, weakly, her head lifted. Her bangs were wet with sweat and stuck crookedly to her forehead. Clear, hazel eyes opened; fatigued, but bright. Their gaze stopped halfway up.

“Mind getting that out of my face?” Her voice was raspy and raw.

Leon mindlessly lowered the gun. He had seen countless inexplicable things before, it was hard for much anymore to surprise him. But he was stunned. Nearly speechless.

“You’re… immune?” he asked slowly, still not entirely sure what he just witnessed.

“Not exactly.”

Two voices answered at the same time, and Leon had to admit that he forgot Hunnigan was still in his ear.

Giving a heavy groan, Taliah managed to crawl back to the wall and sit against it. She looked exhausted, like someone recovering from a bout of food poisoning, not a deadly virus. Blowing out a breath, she leaned her head back, closing her eyes.

But Leon needed answers. “Are you sure?” He did not know what else to ask.

One eye cracked open. “Did that look like immunity to you?” she shot back, already sounding like herself again. As if to prove her point, she shuddered with chills.

“She’s not immune,” Hunnigan chimed in. “But according to these files, she is incredibly resistant.”

Taliah sighed. “That is correct.”

“How is that different?” Leon was still not a scientist, he needed some of these things explained to him.

That was why he had Hunnigan—and her computer skills. “People with viral immunity will show no signs or symptoms if brought into contact with the virus.”

“Lucky bastards,” Taliah grumbled, massaging her temples.

“So when the—”

“Hang on,” Leon cut her off, not having taken his gaze away from Taliah. “Can you hear her?” He did not think he was crazy; Taliah was responding to Hunnigan directly.

Taliah peeked out from behind her hands. “Yes,” was her simple answer.

“How?”

He thought he saw her lips twitch upward for a moment. “You ever seen a T-virus victim?”

Leon blinked. “Once or twice.”

She had enough strength to cock an eyebrow at his response. “Have you ever wondered why it seems like they can always hear you?” She waved a hand, but limply dropped it a flourish later. “Well, it’s because they can.” She regarded him a moment before adding, “It’ll go away in a sec.”

Leon finally had the sense to holster his gun, and once it was safely away, he took a few steps closer. “I didn’t think the T-virus was something people could become resistant to.”

That brought out a crooked half-smile. “Guess they never tried just puking it up.”

“It’s still not entirely clear,” Hunnigan began again, sounding a little flustered. Maybe because her audience suddenly doubled. “But from the reports, it appears that Taliah was born with two separate, very rare genetic abnormalities.”

Leon did not look away from the girl, who looked to be recovering as quickly as she succumbed. She stared back, holding his gaze, watching his reaction. He did not get the sense that she could hear Hunnigan anymore.

“She has an incredibly strong immune system to start, but she also has a non-critical form of hypermetabolism, meaning she has a faster than average metabolism that doesn’t negatively impact her health.” Whatever Hunnigan was reading, it was clear she was learning on the fly. “Her metabolism acts as boost to her immune system to an extraordinary degree.”

“So you can basically purge the virus out of your body?” he asked Taliah directly, drawing closer. His own system had softened, loosening from the come down of adrenaline.

Taliah gave a single shrug. “As long as my body can fight it off before it gets to my brain, then yeah. And it always has, so far.” She did not look nearly as impressed with her own abilities as Leon thought she should be.

“That’s a neat party trick,” Leon joked, trying to wrap his mind around it.

Her gaze slipped from his, landing on the black bile soaking into the carpet. “If you like puking up cancerous necrosis, sure. Give it a try some time.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand before making the attempt to stand.

Chapter Text

Tapping his earpiece to end the call, Leon stepped forward to help, but Taliah was already waving him off, stable legs holding her up, though she still leaned into the wall. She threw a look at him and sighed at what she saw on his face.

“I’m infectious,” she explained, frowning at the admission.

A cheeky grin snuck onto his face. He could not resist. “Well, I’m Leon.”

She blinked at him, but a moment later, a laugh slipped out of her. It sounded more incredulous than humorous, but Leon decided it was better than nothing.

“Leon Kennedy,” he finally introduced, moving closer despite the warning, but stayed just outside of reach. He inspected her face, counted her breaths per minute. She was fatigued, but seemed fully recovered. “How are you feeling?”

One hand lifted to try and smooth down her hair before stopping to message her temple. “Like a million bucks,” she grumbled, but the look on her face was soft. Shy, even.

“Do you need something?” He did not know what else to ask; he had never met someone who could purge a virus like a bad hangover.

The corner of her mouth quirked. “Considering I just threw up a gallon of zombie matter, I don’t know. Gum? Mouthwash? Some bleach, if you’ve got it.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hell, I might just take that bullet now.”

Leon had already reached into the leg pocket of his pants before she finished, and a warmth spread through him when she genuinely smiled at his offering.

“Thanks,” she said softly, plucking a stick of gum from his pack. Leon smiled back as he replaced it in his pocket. “So,” she began, unwrapping the gum. “Million-dollar question.” She popped the pale pink stick into her mouth and began chewing. “Who are you with?”

She stood straighter now, away from the support of the wall. Leon watched her for a moment but stayed where he was, willing himself to look nonchalant. Lines were already crossed, and there was no pretending that either of them was just a lost civilian. He had showed some of his hand first, he realized. In his defense, he did not expect her to still be alive.

“What do you mean?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest, coyly. Even he did not believe his feigned ignorance.

Taliah clearly did not either. An eyebrow arched. “Ear Lady mentioned having some of my files.” Leon was absolutely going to start calling Hunnigan that in all future memos. “So who are you with? Tricell? HCF? WPC?” Her eyes narrowed at him inquisitively. “Neo-Umbrella?”

Leon frowned. Okay, he definitely underestimated her. “The US Government.”

“Ew.” Her face scrunched in disgust, lips pursing. She looked him over, as if deciding whether she believed him. The dismissive snort she gave told him that she did. “No thanks.” With that, she began walking away.

Leon jumped after her, easily keeping pace. “I’m an agent for the Division of Security Operations,” he explained. She was not walking very quickly, but she also was not stopping.

Fortunately, once she got to the corner of the balcony, she stopped, glancing around. “Is that like the CIA?” she questioned, not without more of the flippant tone. She was not looking at him, he noticed.

“It’s an anti-bioterrorism organization under the direct order of the President,” he explained, trying to keep his tone level. Honesty could be disarming, and if he wanted answers, he decided he was prepared to give a few in return. Especially if it softened her to him. Everything had changed between them. Everything about his mission had changed.

A moment passed, and she slowly looked over her shoulder at him. He could see the thoughts churning behind her eyes, and his stomach squeezed with the curiosity of knowing even one of them. Then she gave a single shake of her head.

“I’ll take my chances, thanks,” she said, resuming her scan over the atrium.

Leon rolled his eyes at her dismissal. Yeah, that was definitely not happening again. “It’s literally my job to protect you in situations like this—” He barely got the sentence out when she spun around, back to the railing, staring him down.

“I’m sorry, did you miss the part where I saved your ass?” Her voice was level, but he could hear the hostility simmering beneath the surface. She was trying to get rid of him again. So then why did she put herself in harm’s way to save him? She tucked her arms behind her back, gripping the balcony railing. “Why exactly are you here, Agent Kennedy?”

For her, he thought dumbly. What he was going to do with that information, he was not sure. If she really was Subject TT, then she had escaped from a BOW facility less than twenty-four hours ago. He understood the apprehension she must be feeling toward him, but why would she not want to be rescued? The message from Dr. Elliott was sent out after her escape, so she likely did not even know there was a bounty out on her.

Leon fully believed that honesty was usually the best policy, but as he stared back into her walled off gaze, he had the gut feeling that her that she is his target would not help the situation. But he could not consciously repay her with lies.

So he took in a breath and began. “Ever since Umbrella’s collapse, we’ve been trying to hunt down and investigate any remaining traces of it.” He went slow and precise, not because he did not think she could keep up—she could not know about HCF and not understand something about the world of bioterrorism, and how the hell she knew about Neo-Umbrella was going to have to wait until later—but because he wanted time to read her. As soon as he started talking, her face slipped into a flat, smooth mask. Nothing showed through.

“Former Umbrella researcher, Dr. Eric Elliott, has been on our list for years. Have you heard of him?” He knew the answer, but he wanted it to come from her.

Her face did not change, did not move a muscle.

“Once or twice,” was her flat response, the same answer as his from earlier. He suspected hers was as much an understatement as his, but he got the answer he wanted.

“The DSO has suspected that Dr. Elliott was running another facility for a while, but were never able to track him down. Then there was recently a data breech from his facility.” There was no way that Leon could describe how her face changed then, but he had been studying it too closely to deny that it had. It was something behind her eyes, a glimpse of something through the cracks in the wall.

Thanks to Hunnigan, and assisted by the T-virus, Taliah knew enough that a file on her was now in the government’s hands. Files that contained enough information about her condition—ability? At no point did Taliah deny the information; hell, she helped explain some of it herself. He did not understand the way she would pendulum swing between being open with him and shutting him out completely.

She was hiding something, afraid of him finding out, but it was not her ability. She was hiding something else.

“Intel was able to triangulate approximately where the breech was coming from. This mall was the only thing in the area, so they sent me to investigate it.” The pieces were all true, but he was trying to fit them together in a different configuration, hoping Taliah would not notice that the picture was wrong.

She stood silently, taking in the information, her focus never leaving him. After a heavy moment, Leon’s mind running through various scenarios depending on her possible reaction, she let her shoulders relax an inch. “They must hate you, then.”

Again, not exactly the response he was expecting, but she also was not calling his bluff or escaping over the balcony.

“Why?” He left the corners of his mouth twitch.

She shrugged, looking at him as if it should be obvious. “That’s not really enough information.”

Leon’s brows rose. He guessed everyone was in agreement at the ridiculousness of his mission, including his target. But his chest tightened as he waited for anything more. He underestimated her once already; it would be idiotic to think she was not seeing straight through him.

“Plus, this isn’t even a mall.”

He blinked. “What?”

“It’s just meant to look like one.”

He took a few tentative steps closer, and she let him. He stood at the railing next to her, arm’s length apart for her comfort, and gazed over the expanse of the atrium. The dead center of the building, crossroad to all four wings, the atrium was lit from above through the geometrically domed skylight. The octagon base of what was likely meant to be a fountain sat dry down below, alternately bordered by empty flower beds and metal benches. A staircase sat at each balcony corner. The music was loudest there, but echoed and reverberated to the point of nonsensical distortion. Not that Leon was an expert on the subject, but it sure as hell looked like a mall.

“Then what is it?”

Next to him, Taliah let out a long breath. When he stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye, she was propped against the railing and looking out. At this point, if anyone had the answers, it would be her.

“It was meant to be an experiment,” she answered slowly, as if gathering her thoughts. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and Leon had noticed that she seemed to be favoring a side; even before getting infected, he noticed that when she walked, she put less pressure on her left leg. Suddenly, he wondered if she had gotten injured, perhaps during her escape. But asking her about would reveal not only that Leon knew she had escaped, but also that he had been analyzing every move she made.

“It was Eric’s project. A playground, to run some of his tests. He wanted to be able to study the viruses in real time with real people and their real reactions in a crisis, infection rate, everything, but make sure it was contained.” She sighed heavily, and Leon just watched her profile with a sickened frown. “People would come in, thinking it was a mall. Someone would inevitably trigger one of the traps, get infected...” She waved a hand into the open air. “You can imagine the rest.”

Leon had lived through the rest. More than once. And thought of those people being locked inside, lab rats tortured just to be killed off. And for what? Data? So Dr. Elliott could pat himself on the back for creating yet another plague?

“But it was never finished?” he asked, able to see several unfurnished “stores” from his vantage point. It would explain the lack of weapons in the hunting store. No one wants a lab rat who can fight back.

Taliah’s pupil found him for a flash before looking away. “Nope. The project was scrapped just before completion. I guess they decided it wasn’t worth demolition, so here it still is.”

One crisis averted, Leon thought, thankful for even that. “Forgive me if I can’t see the problem there.”

She cracked a half-smirk, gave a small shake of her head. “Nah, don’t worry about him. The Playground Project was only cancelled because he found something that worked much better.”

Leon shuddered at the thought. “What?”

“Me.”

Leon’s mouth snapped shut. Hunnigan’s words came back to him then, hitting him like a ton of bricks. Eighteen times. That sick bastard infected her with the T-virus eighteen times. She was forced to go through that living hell that Leon only had to witness... eighteen times. She exhibited every known symptom of the infection, in real time—check. And Taliah herself mentioned being infectious, again trying to protect him; he could barely stomach the thought of how she learned that, or what she was forced to do to someone else—check.

Taliah’s eyes were locked straight ahead of her now, barely even blinking. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“They would call me Subject TT.” How was that for a confirmation that he did not even want anymore? But then she added, “It stands for Test Tube.” The sadness in her eyes was fathoms deep, not that she would let him see, keeping her face turned away. “Because that’s all I was to them.”

Able to be reused, over and over. Never turning, never dying. The perfect test subject.

Leon wanted to scream with disgust, anger, hatred, he did not know what else. A part of him wanted to go back to that morning, before he walked into this hellish trap of a place. Back when “Subject TT” only existed in his head, conjured to be some multi-legged mutant creature. Back when he assumed Dr. Elliott wanted it back alive because it was dangerous.

Now he can understand that Dr. Elliott wants Taliah back because he was dangerous.

Leon did not want the answer, he did not want anymore answers, but he needed to ask anyway. “Taliah,” she still did not look at him. “How long have they been testing on you?”

Deep inhale, slow exhale. “Five years.”

Hands tightened into fists at his sides. “Was the T-virus the only virus they tested you with?”

“No.”

Stop asking, Leon, he begged himself. For the love of God, stop asking. “What else?”

That did it. That made her move, and she twisted around to face him, right arm still propped on the railing. A glimmer of the sadness was still there in her eyes, Leon knew where to look for it.

“Everything.”

His heart broke for her, his mind wanted revenge for her. His training pulled at every nerve, ordering him to cut feelings, sever emotions, return to the safety of objectivity. But how could he, when standing before him was a human being, who had clearly been through a hell of her own?

But that begged the question— “Why the hell did you come here?”

She smirked, fully. “I already told you,” she said, sounding like herself again. She narrowed her gaze at him, mouth still grinning. “Not the sharpest agent, are you?”

Leon practically heard the whoosh of the mental pendulum swinging the other way, the slam of the walls going up. Open one second, closed the next. Just like that, they were back to secrets.

“And I already told you,” he countered. “If you’re looking for something, I can help you.”

She had nothing in return, and he almost smirked; he was a sharp enough agent to deduce that whatever it was that she did not want him finding out, it had something to do with why she was there. But he did not want to tease her or pressure her.

“Look,” he said softly, reaching out to gently rest a hand on her arm. “I know that—”

“Ah!” The moment his hand touched the top of her left arm, Taliah gasped in pain and twisted away.

Leon reacted immediately. “I’m sorry, I...” He did not know how he hurt her, but he obviously had.

“No, it’s not...” she tried to say while biting her lip. She backed away from the railing, which Leon thought was a good idea anyway, and slipped out of the dingy grey rain slicker that looked two sizes too big. The off-black t-shirt underneath was also ill-fitting and moth eaten at the hems, but its short sleeves made it very clear why she was in pain.

A bandage was already wrapped around her bicep, halfway between shoulder and elbow. Upon removal, Leon could see what the original wound was, a gash along her skin. It was impossible to tell how healed it might have been, because the severed skin was now black, fading out a few centimeters from the wound.

“Shit,” Taliah hissed, inspecting her arm.

Leon knew exactly what he was looking at, and he agreed. Skin necrosis, a final present from the T-virus. Taliah’s body had been able to fight the virus off before any worse could occur, but he guessed because of the wound, it was able to find a foothold while it could.

“That’s a future problem,” Taliah grumbled, wrapping the old bandage back around her arm, wincing the entire time.

“You need a First-Aid kit,” Leon insisted, trying to learn if firm or comforting worked better with her.

But Taliah appeared to ignore him, instead she held the bottom hem of her shirt out away from her body. “I need to change.” He supposed that was fair, considering. She looked around, still ignoring him and his unclaimed help, until she spotted a store across the way that was stocked with clothes.

Leon began following before she even started walking. The store was called “Hanging Threads.” The two of them stood at the entrance, looking up at the sign.

“He’s an idiot,” Taliah muttered, not necessarily to anyone.

Leon was more concerned with the interior. It looked about the size of the hunting store—he supposed there were all uniformed layouts. Random noises that were not quite ambience could still be heard occasionally, and he did not like that the lights were half burnt out inside.

“Let me check it out first,” he said, unholstering his gun. He was not going to be caught unprepared this time.

Taliah rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Whatever makes you feel more like a man.”

He shot her an annoyed look, and she waved him inside, just as annoyed. It only took him a minute to make a full sweep of the store, end to end, wall to wall.

“Clear,” he called from inside, looking over the racks of clothes toward the entrance. Taliah was no longer there, and when he turned to scan for her, quickly found her behind him, already working through the clothes. There was no point wasting energy wondering, he somehow already knew she had simply followed him in immediately.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could make a sound, Taliah turned her back to him and stripped off her t-shirt. Leon whipped his head in the opposite direction, embarrassed at his intrusion; though in his defense, he figured she would use the changing room in the back corner, which he was inspected for her. But the intrusion was less about seeing her nearly bare back, it was what he saw in the flash before looking away.

He could have been mistaken, but he swore he caught a glimpse of a gnarly looking scar, maroon and puckered, curving from her ribcage, under her bra strap, to her shoulder blade.

Clearing his throat, Leon excused himself from the store, leaving her to continue changing in complete privacy. A metal bench across from the store provided a safe perch, keeping lookout.

He expected the call. Truthfully, he expected it sooner. He had hung up on her, after all.

“Leon, we need to—”

But he cut her off, trying to postpone whatever it was they needed to do; he was sure he would not like it. “Hunnigan, I need you to keep an eye on the perimeter, warn us if someone gets too close.” Knowing what he knew, there was no way someone like Dr. Elliott was going to sit around and wait for his favorite test subject to be found, especially if he had learned about the data leak. “Someone is going to come looing for her, I’m sure of it.”

Tempting luck, he glanced back toward the store. Taliah was dressed and standing near the checkout counter, trying on various sunglasses in the mirror. He felt himself smile.

“I already am,” she snapped back, frustrated at being cut off. She really was more fun when riled up. “Leon, listen. What is state of the target?”

His body clenched. “Fine, just like you said. Made a full recovery within twenty minutes of initial infection.”

“That’s a relief,” Hunnigan sighed, like she had not just called Taliah a target. “Where is she now?”

“Out of earshot,” he grumbled, knowing full-well that was the information being indirectly asked for.

“Good. Leon, we need to reevaluate the mission—”

“No shit we do,” he hissed, more than he meant to. “She’s not a threat, Hunnigan.” He did not mean for his built-up anger to be at all directed at Hunnigan, but it had begun to escape. “If you knew the hell she’s been through—”

“I know,” she groaned, cutting him off for once. “I heard.”

Leon paused. He had the impulse to pull out his satellite phone and smash it right there and then. Why give him the option to pick up the call if they were just patched in listening anyway?

Hunnigan must have understood because she gave a heavy, remorseful sigh. When she spoke again, it was softer. “The objective has changed. The DSO does not consider Taliah an immediate threat.” Partnership be damned, Leon was about ready to have a field day over that intentional word choice. He bit his tongue until he tasted blood. “But we still need you to bring her in.”

A red flag stuck in his brain. “For protection? Or questioning?”

Hunnigan’s hesitation was answer enough. “She appears to have detailed knowledge of Dr. Elliott’s work, yes, including first-hand experiences. If she was willing to risk her life to escape him, she might be willing to help us find him.”

On an objective level, it made perfect sense to him. But that was a line that Leon was currently tangled up in. The pain in her voice, the sadness in her eyes when talking about being used as a human test tube... sure she would want justice, to see her torturer brought down. And after everything, he was confident that she knew much more than she was letting on. Information like that could prove invaluable to the DSO.

The problem was— “Convincing her won’t be easy. She’s been reluctant to accept anything from me so far.”

“If not willingly, then by force.” It was blunt, but when she next spoke, it was in a genuine whisper. “I am just the messenger.”

Leon did not doubt for a second that he could overpower Taliah. She was slippery and elusive, but he was faster, with more training. The thought made him sick.

“Give me some time. Let me try to convince her, earn her trust. See if I can’t talk her into ratting this guy out. If not, I’ll figure something out.” He grimaced, hating even to say it. What was the likelihood that he could just throw her over his shoulder and carry her out? “As a very last resort.” And he would be the judge of what constituted the last resort. “Keep lookout in the meantime.”

He was surprised when he heard Hunnigan give a tired chuckle. “Work your magic, Romeo. And fast.”

The line went dead.

“Hey, mister agent.”

Leon looked up with a grin on his face to see Taliah standing at the store’s entrance. She was wearing the same tattered jeans as before, but now had a true-black t-shirt that properly fit covered in a dark green flannel. She had managed to redo her hair, but sported no sunglasses.

“The power’s going to go out again soon,” she said, arms folded over her chest. “And when it does, the security system goes into lockdown. There’s a door to the breakroom through the food court, but it has a keycode lock on the door.”

“And you need a First-Aid kit?” he suggested for her.

“And I’m hungry,” she corrected with a cheeky grin.

Chapter Text

“Explain to me—” Taliah really did not want to. “—why a deathtrap like this has an employee breakroom?”

The food court stood at the end of the North Wing, pristine and barren; it was the first place she had checked when she came in. Food vendor stalls lined the three walls, a sea of tables bolted to the floor created a minefield in front of them. It still smelled like cleaning products and grease, though she did not think any of the kitchens had been in use. She did not expect there to be any food, not that she was at all desperate enough to eat something that had been sitting out for the last three years.

The food court was only a single story, walled off and seemingly separate from both plazas on either side of it. Unless someone had meticulously studied the floor plans and knew how everything connected via the backrooms. Like Taliah had.

Between two vendors on the wall that separated the food court from the Gratitude Plaza was a darkened hallway, one that ended in another “Employees Only” door. The door opened easily, leading to a shorter passageway that apparently connected the two locations; the food court’s backrooms to the right, G Plaza’s to the left. And straight ahead was a single metal door that read “Breakroom.”

“Because,” Taliah explained, reaching into her pants pocket to pull out the keycard, “the plan was to have this place look and run like a mall, and that would require workers.” She scanned the keycard on the reader next to the door. It beeped once, and the keypad beneath it lit up.

“They might have even wanted to have it running for a while before kicking things off.”

She technically did not know the code, but she knew Eric, so she punched in the numbers: 012682. Immediately, the device chimed that it was correct, and the mechanical lock disengaged. Taliah rolled her eyes as she opened the door. She stepped inside and held it open.

The man—Leon, which she still thought was ridiculous—hesitated. She thought for a moment that it was because she had taken the lead that he always seemed to want, but before she could make a comment, she paused. He was looking at the keypad, frowning, and Taliah could hear the questions he wanted to ask. How did she know the code? Why did she have the card? Suspicion radiated from him from the moment she opened her stupid mouth and had not let up since. If he thought he was hiding it, he was kidding himself.

“Would the workers know?” he asked instead.

Taliah had some of the answers she was looking for and still could not figure this man out. He was much more of a bleeding heart than any government worker she had ever met. “Of course not.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head in disgust.

“Look, I’ll lock you out,” Taliah said, only half teasing. “I’m starving.”

That got him to move finally. “How can you have an appetite right now?” He walked into the breakroom, already doing his search.

“Appetite has nothing to do with it,” she clarified, closing the door behind him. As the door latched, she had the intrusive thought she was going to regret locking herself in with this man. As long as the power was on, she could get out, so she had until then to change her mine.

“I have the metabolism of a teenage boy, and I promise you, I eat like one.” That won her a chuckle, at least.

The breakroom was smaller than she anticipated, able to fit maybe twenty people max. A long table filled the middle of the room, surrounded by plain metal chairs. To the right of the door was a refrigerator, quiet and unplugged. Along the right wall was a line of lockers, which Leon had already looked through. Which was less disappointing since directly across from the door stood a vending machine, light on and barely stocked. But still stocked.

Taliah really did not care about how stale the chips and crackers, as long as they were edible. She damn near rushed forward, but was stopped when Leon rounded the table and stood in her path. His arm was out, not quite touching her—he learned his lesson.

“I’ll handle that,” he said, tilting his head toward the vending machine. “You see to that arm.” He gestured behind her, and she turned to see a First-Aid box hanging on the wall to the left of the door. When she did not immediately move, he added playfully, “Just tell me your order, I’ll get it.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but relented. “Well, in that case...” She swished her hair dramatically as she turned, heading toward the kit. “I’ll take a three-course meal. No tomatoes.”

The First-Aid kit was also slim pickings, but luckily there was a fresh roll of bandages and some antiseptic wipes. In a different situation, doctors would have already dealt with it. There was nothing to do about now other than keeping it quiet. In the clothing store, she was able to take a peek at the wound on her hip, but fortunately it was still red and bloodied.

Little victories.

“Coming right up.” It was followed immediately by an explosion of shattering glass.

Taliah jumped an inch, nearly dropping the supplies. “Excessive,” she muttered, plopping down at the table. She carefully removed the left sleeve of her flannel and rolled up the cuff of her shirt. She had just removed the old bandage and was about to sterilize it when three small bags of old, off-brand potato chips landed on the table in front of her.

“In what world,” she began as Leon took a seat across from her, “is that a three-course meal?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Guess I’ll just owe you dinner.”

Taliah pressed the disinfecting wipe directly onto the black gash, the hot flare of pain overpowering the flush she felt creep up her neck, the corners of her mouth twisting down instead of up, like they were treacherously about to. She focused on the pain, thankful that the nerves were still alive underneath. The damage was not that bad.

She could feel his eyes on her as she wrapped the clean bandage around her bicep, but she did not dare look back at him. Not when he looked at her like that, all intense, trying to read her mind. The pink in her cheeks could easily be blamed on her crashing blood sugar. Slipping her arm back into the flannel, she reached for a bag of chips with the other.

Two went straight into her mouth before he grabbed a bag for himself. For a minute, the only sounds were rustling and crunching, and it was almost normal. Almost.

“How are yours?” she asked, no longer able to stand the silence between them.

“Too salty,” he said, gazing into his bag. “Yours?”

“Too bland.” A beat passed, and Taliah held her bag out to him. With a grin, he took it and handed over his. With the swap complete, the silence settled in again.

She heard him draw a deeper breath, one that usually came before he asked a question that she did not want to answer, but then a jolt rippled through the walls, and the lights cut out. In the pitch black, Taliah smiled; saved again by the power going out right exactly when she needed it.

The smile wiped off her face when she heard Leon shifting across from her, followed by a series of small cracks. A purple glowing rod was placed on the table between them, giving off enough light to illuminate the two of them.

Taliah sighed, propping her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand. She might be locked in a room with a specialized government agent, but at least he came equipped with glowsticks.

“Please tell me that’s military grade.”

Leon tilted his head. “Tax dollars hard at work.”

That made her smile, but only a little. Smiling drew too much of his attention. She popped another chip into her mouth. “So, Agent Kennedy.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What made you want to work for the government?” The soulless, shameless, capitalistic—

“I didn’t.”

That made her blink, but his face was serious. He looked down at the glowstick, his eyes now a vibrant purple. “Still don’t.” But then he looked back up at her, and his features softened. “Long story short, I was recruited.”

No wonder, she thought. Too much of his soul was still intact. “By whom?”

He paused, took a breath, and reclined again. Interesting, Taliah thought, guess she was not the only one who did not want to answer personal questions.

But he said, “I was originally recruited into USSTRATCOM—” Taliah had no intention of asking what the hell that was, “—which became the DSO under President Adam Benford.”

“Oh.” Taliah blinked. Last she remembered, it was a President Graham. But she supposed being locked away from the world for five years meant she missed a few things. Like an entire election. “So, he’s the President now.”

A beat passed. “No.” It came out of his mouth like it was bitter, desperate to get it off his tongue. He was not looking at her, gazing deeply at the glowstick.

It was the first concrete news from the real world that she received in so long. She needed to know more. What had the world been up to without her?

“What happened?”

The lines on his face told her it likely was not a scandal-triggered resignation. It took him a few more steadying breaths to speak again, but Taliah was patient.

“He was assassinated,” he finally said, as plainly as he could manage, but Taliah heard the strain at the edges. And even in the dark, she knew what guilt looked like. “Targeted during the Tall Oaks Incident, by his own National Security Advisor turned bioterrorist.”

Taliah jolted, sitting upright in her seat. “Wait,” she said, all the alarm bells going off in her head. Tall Oaks was recent, just last year. She knew about it because... “Wasn’t that Derek Simmons?”

Now it was Leon’s turn to be shocked. “How do you know?”

Because the world was too small and filled with too many nutjobs. “He was responsible for the C-virus, wasn’t he?”

When Leon nodded, Taliah groaned. “Prick.” A sudden flick of pain shot up her spine, and she arched her back to stretch it, feeling the tightness of her skin, the movement of muscle that should not be there. “Eric hated Simmons. Wouldn’t shut up about him. Said he was a quack. After he heard Simmons was dead—” Oh boy, did she catch the tiniest quirk of Leon’s mouth, maybe she was actually starting to like this man, “—he went out of his way to get his hands on some of the C-virus.” She scoffed, dropping her chin back into her hand. “Lucky me.”

“You were tested with C?”

Boy, was she. Eric called it g-Veronica, she guessed as an insult, even though that literally was what it was.

Leon correctly took her silence as an affirmative. “What was it like?”

Like perdition, she thought. Like your blood turning to magma, like your body trying to turn itself inside out to get away from it. Your own DNA rejects itself. And you pray to God to die before the mutations start. She almost got her wish. She almost did not come back.

“Spicy,” she said simply, eating another chip.

When she made the mistake of looking up, he was staring deep into her eyes, a mix of sympathy and empathy. Neither of which she asked for or wanted.

“I’m sorry about the President.” She meant it, too. Talking about it clearly upset him, the poor sensitive soul that he seemed to be.

“Me too,” was his only response.

“Well, this must be a cakewalk in comparison,” she joked, though did not necessarily want to bring attention back on herself. She was not his mission, and if he did not know about her ability, then he likely did not know about the serum; she wanted to keep it that way.

That won her a chuckle. “That depends on you.”

Nope, Taliah thought. Right back into bad territory. Time to change the subject again, keep him talking about something other than her.

“What do your parents think about you being a special agent, huh?” She was out of chips to keep her hands—and mouth—busy. “Do they know their son is America’s greatest unknown hero?”

He gave a small grin, but it did not quite reach his eyes. “No, they don’t, since they were killed when I was a kid.” He won himself a moment by sliding his half-eaten bag over for her to finish. “And I don’t really care what they would’ve thought anyway.”

“How old were you?” she asked, of course accepting the bag, still hungry.

“Ten.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed.

He squinted at her. “What?”

She shrugged. “My parents were killed when I was six. I thought maybe we’d have that in common.” It would have been morbidly funny. “Mine were murdered by Umbrella.”

Leon’s brows drew together, his purple puppy dog eyes beaming pity holes into her. “I’m sorry.”

She waved a hand. “Don’t be. By this point, Umbrella’s killed everyone’s parents, so it’s not really that big of a deal anymore.”

But Leon shook his head. She thought he was going to insist on feeling sorry for her, but instead he explained, “Umbrella didn’t kill my parents.” He folded his arms over his chest. “They got themselves killed.”

That single sentence was somehow saltier than the potato chips.

“It was their own fault for getting caught up in all that crap. There’s only one way that life ends, and they knew it and did it anyway. And they paid for it in the end.”

“I love how you’re trying very hard not to admit your family was in the mob.” Eyes cut to her, and she covered her lips with her fingers, holding them back in a straight line. “But you survived.”

He shook his head once. “I shouldn’t have. They wanted the entire family wiped out, and I got lucky. Wrong place, right time. They probably would have come back to finish me off, if it wasn’t for the officer assigned to the case. He saved me. He took me in, made sure I was safe and protected, sponsored me as I grew up. He didn’t have to do any of that, not for a poor, traumatized orphan of criminals.”

His inhale wavered, but the exhale was slow and steady. “He’s why I grew up wanting to become a cop. That one selfless act changed my entire life, and I wanted to show it wasn’t wasted. I wanted to save people, make sure there were fewer cases like mine.”

“That explains it,” Taliah said softly, nodding.

He narrowed his gaze at her, but the way he tilted his head and his hair fell in front of his face, only one was visible.

“The Hero Complex you have,” she said, not entirely teasing, not entirely genuine. “Guess it started young.” The purple shadows across his face accentuated the tightness of his jaw, and she scolded herself for making jokes when she was getting what she wanted. He was giving her what he knew she wanted. “So you were a cop?” Somehow, she still doubted it.

“Graduated top three at the academy when I was only twenty-one.”

“Not number one?” She pressed her fingers hard to her mouth, cursing herself.

After a moment of staring her down, Leon unfolded his arm and reached across the table, bringing the palm of his hand down onto the bag of chips in front of her, pulverizing them into tiny shards.

There was no helping her now. “Wow, needlessly violent. Maybe you were a cop after all.”

By some unknowable miracle, he laughed. “Do you want the story or not?”

She tilted the bag of starch dust into her mouth. “Yes please.”

“I was good enough to pretty much be assigned wherever I wanted once I graduated, yeah. And there was only one department I requested to transfer to. Raccoon City.”

Taliah lowered the bag, looking to see if he was joking. He definitely did not look like he was joking.

“Leading up to graduation, all the news talked about were the ‘cannibal murders’ over in the Arklay Mountains. And I was so sure that I was what that needed.”

On pain of death, Taliah would not bring up his Hero Complex again in this conversation. He might throw a chair.

“I thought I’d transfer to RCPD, earn the chief’s respect, show everyone I was more than just a rookie cop. I’d get put on the case, and then...” He shrugged, half there, half in his memories. “I don’t know, I’d notice something no one else had, maybe a motive no one connected before. And just like that, I’d crack the case.” A beat passed, and he let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head at himself.

“Did you?” she asked, and he looked at her with an expression she had never seen on his face before. She did not know what it meant, and worse, she wanted to find out. “Crack the case?”

A not-quite-sad smile crept onto his face, his eyes drifting to the table. “They hired me immediately, and I drove over eighteen hours across two days. Nothing packed, nothing planned. But...” He drifted off there, and Taliah could see something change in his face. “I was late on my first day. Real late. Which... ended up saving my life.”

Taliah nodded. She did not need to be abducted by Umbrella to know about what happened to Raccoon City. Even the normies knew enough about the incident that just mentioning the doomed city drew solemn silences. She remembered writing a paper on it in college, and that was before she learned what actually happened.

Umbrella’s colossal screw up. The accidental spread of the T-virus. The birth of the G-virus. The beginning of the end, as far as people knew.

She looked at the man sitting across from her with different eyes. Of all the things the Raccoon City Incident was known for, its survivors were not one.

“I guess I did end up cracking the case, just in the worst way imaginable.”

A heavy silence fell over them, each sinking into their own thoughts.

“Why?” she questioned, suddenly confused but something he said.

“Why what?”

“Why were you late?” It was an accusation, and she did not try to hide it. Mr. Do Right would never be late. Would Superman be late? “First day for your dream job.”

He scowled. “Does it matter?” The way he said it, deflecting a little too much.

She sat straight in her chair. “Oh, now it does.”

It was impossible to tell in the purple glow, but he might have been blushing. He leaned his head back, face to the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, come on,” she coaxed, letting him have a smile of her own. “You watched me literally puke up guts, you can stand to be a little vulnerable in return.” She waved a hand around the dark space. “Who am I going to tell?”

He hesitated a moment longer, enough for her to pull out her wild card.

“Please, Leon.” It was the first time saying his name out loud, and she put all the sincerity she could muster into it.

She knew she won at the same moment he did. Giving an exasperated groan, he wiped a hand down his face, stopping when it covered his mouth. She heard him mutter something, but his hand muffled it. And he damn well knew it would, too.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” She was teasing now. Why not? She already won.

“I was hungover.”

Taliah blinked, mouth frozen partially open. She searched his face for some sign that he was screwing with her. Fantastically, he was not.

“Any... particular reason?”

“Ugh!” He pressed his hands to the table, lips pursed in frustration. Somehow his hair managed to hide more of his face. “Because I’d been dumped.”

“What?” Taliah bit her lip to keep from grinning ear to ear. It was not working.

He scowled at her, and she seriously suspected he was blushing. “My girlfriend at the time didn’t want to move with me, and I wasn’t not going to leave, so...”

“So...?” Taliah urged, so far past subtle at that point.

“So, she dumped me, and I left. I drove most of the day, but that night I stopped at a motel and drank myself into a self-pitying stupor. I was so hungover the next day, I didn’t wake up until the afternoon. Then I had to haul ass across half the country and ended up being late. And therefore, not turned into a zombie with everyone else.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Call her and thank her.” All attempts were failing. She had to physically cover her mouth with her hand.

“It was sixteen years ago.”

She felt like she was going to burst.

All at once, his shoulders went slack, the fight draining out of him. “You can laugh.”

One second passed, then two, and then Taliah exploded into a fit of laughter. She could not breathe, tears gathered in her eyes.

After a moment, a smile broke across his face, one that showed he had made peace with the situation happening. “After surviving Raccoon City, Adam picked me up, got me trained, and recruited me to USSTRATCOM.” Taliah was still laughing her head off, but she was listening. “It’s hard to believe there was a time when I was the only agent with BOW experience.” He snorted. “Now I’m just the one with the most experience.”

He paused then, sitting and silently watching her laugh. Despite everything he had told her, in that moment he looked comfortable, relaxed. Almost pleased with himself.

“Your turn,” he said, trying to hide his own grin. “What horrible thing did your parents do to end up on Umbrella’s hit list?”

The last of her giggles tapered out, the giddiness subsiding. That anecdote alone was worth it. Once she managed to calm herself down, she decided she could live with telling him. With his track record, he might end up being the only person left who knows the truth.

She laced her fingers together and placed them on the table. Then she looked him straight in the eye.

“They wanted to start a family.”

Chapter Text

“Once upon a time—”

“Seriously?” Leon chuckled, settling back in the uncomfortable metal chair. The butterflies in his stomach were not yet gone, the memory of Taliah’s unreserved laughter enough to keep them alive.

She shot him an annoyed look. “Hey, I didn’t interrupt you.”

Leon snorted at the bold lie, which brought out a small smirk from her. It was not hard to figure out her tactic: rile him up so that she maintained control over the situation. The problem was that she was getting better at finding ways to rile him up. A bigger problem was him letting her.

“I’m sorry, please continue.”

“As I was saying,” she began again. “Once upon a time, there was a pair of high school sweethearts. Inseparable. But everyone told them it would never work, they wanted different things, all that. But they were in love, so screw everyone else. But, like they all predicted, it came to an end. After graduation, she went off to one college, he went off to another, and they both moved on.

“Years pass, they graduate college and decide to move into the city to start their careers. And one night, they both go out to this bar with some of their coworkers, and they run into each other. Completely by chance. And by the end of that night, they were even more in love than before. They realized they just needed to grow up a little first.”

Leon listened to Taliah with silent wonder. Suddenly everything was different about her, from the looseness of her posture to the precision in her voice. It was like she was telling a bedtime story to a captivated child. It was truly bizarre to realize that she was the most comfortable he had ever seen her, and she was recalling the story of her parents’ murder.

“They got married, proving everyone wrong, because they were ridiculously happy. And after a while their marital bliss started to feel a little lacking, so they decided they were ready to start a family. The problem was, while everything else in their lives was going perfectly, after a couple years of trying, they still couldn’t get pregnant. But they were in love and determined, so they didn’t give up.

“They decided to visit a fertility clinic and were recommended a new treatment that had been having great results. So they agreed, and they were started on the treatment, which involved both of them taking daily pills and weekly injections. Of course, like everything else at the time, the medication involved in their treatment was manufactured by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals.”

Leon felt his stomach clench. Of course. And it was true, too. Umbrella had once been an international conglomerate, manufacturing everything from pharmaceuticals to cruise ships, and countless things in between. But the bigger they are...

“A full year after starting the fertility treatment, the couple successfully conceived and, nine months later, gave birth to a baby girl. The baby was perfect, and the family was whole, and they all lived happily ever after, never suspecting that anything was wrong.”

Leon cocked an eyebrow, and Taliah sighed theatrically.

“For a couple years, at least,” she clarified. “The first clue that something was wrong came three years later. The proud parents got a call from their daughter’s daycare that there had been a severe outbreak of chickenpox. So, they rushed to go pick her up and take her to the doctor. Well, the doctor was pleasantly surprised to find that not only was the little girl not sick, but she only had a single pockmark.”

She paused a moment, reaching up to the neckline of her shirt and pulled it down an inch or two, exposing the top of her cleavage. Leon jolted in his seat, trying to keep his facial expression even. In the dimmed and tinted light, he could see the small, indented scar sitting at the top of her right breast. Having that confirmed, he looked away quickly, hoping his face did not betray him.

“The parents thought they were just incredibly lucky,” she continued, righting her shirt and leaning back. Leon had just about steadied his heartbeat again. “The doctor agreed but wanted them to bring the girl in for regular checkups after that. Just to be safe. But after that, they noticed that their perfect little girl never seemed to get sick when the other kids around her did. If she ever fell ill, it was never for more than a few hours. Every time, the doctor would insist on a checkup.

“The parents realized something was very wrong when the little girl was five. They were playing hide-and-seek together, and the girl had crawled into the cupboard under the kitchen sink. When the parents finally found her, she had already ingested half a box of rat poison, thinking it was candy.”

Leon felt this stomach twist at the thought. He could imagine the pain and guilt they must have felt, such an innocent moment turning deadly in a matter of minutes.

Taliah’s tone remained the same. “Like good parents, they panicked and sped to the hospital. On the way, the little girl complained of a stomachache before promptly vomiting bright green all over the back of the car. When they got to the emergency room, the girl was sweating bright green. But by the time the doctor saw them, she was perfectly fine, as if nothing had happened. No one could explain it. The doctor said it had been a miracle.”

Taliah paused then, her face falling slightly, eyes slowly drifting off into the dark. “Something changed after that. Her parents changed. The little girl stopped going to school, and her parents stopped going to work. One of them would always stay with her if one had to leave the house. Friends didn’t come over anymore. If the phone rang, no one would answer it. Sometimes they would go the whole day without tuning on any lights in the house. And her parents were always whispering to each other.”

He did not need more light to tell from the look on Taliah’s face that she was no longer sitting across from him; she was gone in her memories.

“Just after the girl’s sixth birthday, her parents finally let her leave the house. They sent her to visit a family friend who lived in another state. It was only supposed to be for the weekend, but the weekend turned into a week, which turned into two. The friend did not know what was wrong; the parents were not answering the phone. So, the friend called the police, and the police went to their house...”

When she trailed off, Leon wet his lips and softly helped, “And found them dead?”

Taliah blinked, sucking in a breath before nodding. “The police suspected foul play, but had no evidence to make any kind of a case. Well, as you can imagine, the friend did what any sane person would do, and they sent the girl to go live with someone else, fearing they would be next. And they were, but by the time the people who killed her parents found where they had sent her, she was long gone, jumping from one family to the next. Everyone assumed she was a foster, and after a while, she just got lost in the system.”

The opposite of Leon’s story. His tragedy was ended by a selfless act from a stranger, and hers was prolonged by the cowardice of many. Cases like hers were why he wanted to become a cop; people like her were why he stayed in the DSO after Adam’s death.

“What happened to her?” Leon was not ignorant of the fact that Taliah was telling the story of her childhood in third person. It was sometimes common for people with traumatic pasts to use such a tactic, creating separation between them and their experiences, making discussing them more manageable. As if it did not actually happen to them. And if that was what Taliah needed, he was going to play along. Who was he to decide how someone dealt with their trauma? His method clearly had not changed in the last sixteen years.

Taliah blew out a breath, shoulders slumping. “The same thing that happens to most foster kids. She turned eighteen and they kicked her out.” She caught a glimpse of his face, and whatever it looked like to her made her give a crooked smile. “Fortunately, she’d been good in school, and she got into college on a few scholarships. She was excited to move away and start living a real life.

“After she graduated from college, she decided to reach out to a social worker to try and find out what happened to her parents. And not only did she learn that her parents’ murder was still unsolved almost twenty years later, but also that the foster system had given her a different last name. After that, the girl started using her real identity.” She trailed off, pursing her lips.

“The problem was that she had no idea that a very powerful group of people were looking for her. And so, using her real name was probably not the best idea.” She frowned, eyes down at the table. “About a year later, they grabbed her coming out of her apartment. Right there on the street.”

In all fairness, Leon had to know that Umbrella got Taliah somehow, having been testing her for the last five years. But his brain had been distracted by so many other questions that he never stopped to consider the reality that she had been abducted. Umbrella the company might have been dead, but like its legacy, the despicable monsters that built it lived on.

“The worst part wasn’t even that she didn’t know why. It was they didn’t know why. Not at first.”

“What do you mean?” Leon asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Taliah regarded him for a moment. But Leon was learning her just as quickly as she was learning him. He knew what the look meant, what filled the pause. She was deciding which way the pendulum was going to swing. “By the time they took her, the people who had originally experimented on her parents were gone, a lot of the research outdated or incomplete. Back then, they had just been throwing eugenics at the wall and seeing what stuck. And, well, they didn’t know what had stuck with her.”

She bit down on her lip, and Leon could tell there was more than she was not saying. But she had given him something, and that was progress. She was starting to trust him, whether she realized it or not. Getting her safely out of here was starting to look possible.

“So, they tested her, over and over, until they figured it out.” The sharpness her tone took made it clear that was the end of the story of the little girl who never got sick.

“Taliah, I’m sorry—” Leon began, leaning across the table, but she was already waving him off, the pendulum finishing its arc.

She smiled limply but did not match his gaze. “Don’t worry. She ended up befriending one of the researchers to try and convince him to help her escape, but he was creepy and twice her age and took an unhealthy interest in her, and the whole thing backfired...” she shook her head, “...spectacularly.”

Leon stared her down, holding focus on her until she had no choice but to look back at him. “Did you really,” he began seriously, “just start that sentence with ‘don’t worry’?”

After a beat, she shrugged. The following silence told him that there would be no further explanation, but he could only assume the researcher in question was Dr. Elliott. He was, after all, at the center of this. Leon shook his head.

“Okay, but how did you find out about your ability?”

Taliah smirked at that, a conspiratorial look creeping onto her face. “Nuh uh,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “That’s a whole different story. And one that’s going to cost you, rookie.”

She was back to her teasing self, so Leon let the nickname slide, though hearing it made him twitch. There was no more pretending this was not a game; if he wanted info, he was going to have to give some himself. And as long as they were locked in, he was going to make the most of it.

“Name your price.”

She leaned forward then, resting elbows on the table, chin perched on intwined fingers. She looked him over for appraisal, and each second that ticked by, the smirk on her lips grew wider.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

That took Leon by surprise, and he sat silently. It was not something he liked to think about certainly did not anticipate talking about... ever.

He evidently stalled long enough for her to realize that nothing was coming. “Fine,” she said simply. All at once, she grabbed the glowstick and leaned across the table. All the way across the table. She was practically in his lap before he could register what was happening. His attention snapped into focus the moment he felt her hand at his utility belt.

“Can I help you find something?” he asked, stupefied, closely tracking where her hand was going. But she had already dug into a pouch at his hip, her fist coming away clutching something.

Half-strewn across the table, glowstick in one hand, the unequipped laser sight for his gun in the other, Taliah looked up at him, inches beneath his face. She looked pleased.

“Collateral,” she explained, and then slid back into her chair, glowstick dropped onto the table. “You can owe me the story later.”

Leon could only answer by way of taking deep, slow breaths. The glint in her eye told him that she knew exactly what she was doing. To him.

“His name was Caleb.” She looked down at the small device in her hands, inspecting every angle of it. “He worked tech maintenance at the facility. He was young and kind. And easy.” She rolled the laser sight from one palm into the other, back and forth. “I got to know him, let him get to know me. Flirted a bit, nothing too obvious, you know? It took a bit of time, but once he fell, he fell hard. And I... pretended to feel the same. And he believed it.”

With her thumb, she flicked the device on, a red line shooting out. She aimed it the red dot at Leon’s chest, right over his heart.

“After that, he was putty in my hands.” She said it so simply. It was such a stark difference to previously. Before, she spoke in third person and crafted the story like fairytale. Now she spoke of herself directly, each sentence sharp and precise. Like a fairytale told by the villain. Leon listened silently, repeatedly wondering how this girl contained such opposing extremes.

“As soon as I got the opportunity, I used his security clearance to access... everything. I found all of my files, learned what exactly my condition was and what all the tests were for. I found the files they had on my parents. What they did to them without them knowing.” Her jaw clenched. “I found the research they were doing, the experiments they were using my DNA for.” She was angry, but still trying to hold it in. She sucked in a breath, held it, and blew it out before continuing.

“It wasn’t hard, funnily enough. And it wasn’t hard to install a backdoor in the firewall, either.”

The data breech, Leon thought. It coincided with her escape from the facility, and the files she mentioned sounded like the ones Hunnigan found. Was Taliah responsible for it. An anonymous SOS? Either way, it was clear that Taliah was not one to slip away silently in the night. She seemed like the scorched earth kind of person. Hell hath no fury...

“But anything to do with me set off alarms, and the whole thing was investigated. And since it was Caleb’s security clearance, he was blamed for it. Somehow, Eric knew it was me, even when Caleb tried to defend me. He took the fall for it, but Eric made damn sure I got punished too.”

Her nose scrunched in a disgusted sneer, arms wrapped tightly around her. Her voice was beginning to shake if Leon listened carefully, the words themselves dripping with acid.

“After that, I was locked in my room and only let out for testing. No one was allowed to talk to me or even go near me. He made it a rule that I could only be referred to as Subject TT.” Leon watched her eyes glisten over, but no tears dared to fall. “That name was supposed to be used for my anonymity, to protect me. And the asshole used it to dehumanize me instead.”

Leon did not know what to say. He did not know if there was anything he could say. Her hands were set on the table, wrapped tightly around the laser sight. He wanted to reach over, lay a hand on hers, somehow let her know that he understood. That he was there for her.

That all she needed to do was say the word, and he would help her take that man down.

“Taliah—” he began, already lifting his hand.

“You want to know what the worst part is?” she cut him off, gazing down at her fists. Her voice was strong, piercing, like frostbite. This was someone else speaking now. This was a part of her that had been locked inside for too long, abused for too long.

She looked up at him then, staring straight into his soul. Her face was a mask. Leon braced himself for what might be coming next, his mind slipping into all the dark corners that reminded him what monsters like Dr. Elliott did to people like Taliah.

“I don’t regret it.” There was not a single hint of hesitation in her voice. “I don’t regret getting my files, or how I got them.” She did not even blink. “I would do it all again. If I had to.”

The silence weighed a thousand pounds, and Leon’s speechlessness only added to it. What could he say? Tell her no? Desperation changed people. What would he do in her situation? Would he have it in himself to seduce and manipulate an innocent, unsuspecting person? Use them for his own gain, and then let them take the fall for him in the end?

He swallowed as a face crept into his mind. That sure sounded familiar. And he definitely did not think he had it in him to be on the other end of that situation. He shook his head, forcing her face out of his head.

Taliah was still looking at him, expectantly, waiting for his reaction. He cleared his throat of the growing lump and spoke. “What happened to Caleb?”

She blinked, once. Twice. He did not see her chest rise or fall; she was holding her breath.

Suddenly, the world around him became blinding, the power kicking back on. He blinked until his eyes adjusted, but Taliah did not look to have even moved. But he saw the single streak of wetness down her face.

Humming from the lights filled in the spaces around her silence.

All at once, Taliah stood up, looking away. Her fists opened with a flick, and the laser sight slid across the table toward him. He caught it without taking his eyes off her.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore.” Her voice was flat, sounding miles away. “I’m wasting time.”

And with that, she headed to the door, Leon rising from his chair to follow. But when she reached the door and reached for the handle, it did not budge. The power was back on, but the door was still locked, keeping them trapped inside.

Chapter Text

The door would not budge. Every time Leon threw his weight into it—shoulder, hip, kick—a new curse came to mind. The metal clattered with each impact, but the dead bolt stayed firm.

A sigh next to him halted his next attempt. Taliah leaned against the wall next to the door, arms crossed tightly over her chest, lips pursed, eyes staring off into space. She had not said anything since finding out they were locked in, had not even looked at him.

He was getting frustrated with her back-and-forth. Not that he was entitled to knowing anything about her, but because he still could not figure out where any of her lines were. But one thing he would understand perfectly was that she was not mad at him. The silence, the cold shoulder, the fortified walls behind her eyes; she was mad at herself. For being vulnerable in front of him. For showing her emotions, which were often equated to weakness.

“Okay, this is going to work,” he said, glancing at her, but she did not move. “But I’ve got an idea.”

Field training made him a quick thinker, crafting creative ways to get out of bad situations was a must in his line of work. This was not impossible. He laid his plan out as simply as he could without being patronizing. Step by step. It would take some ingenuity and elbow grease from the both of them, but it just might work.

“Got all that—you’re not even listening to me, are you?” He looked over at her again, and he swore she had not even blinked.

Only a hand moved, pointed finger lifting. “Any particular reason we can’t just use that vent?”

Leon followed where she pointed, seeing the large air vent at the top of the wall diagonal from the vending machine. He had noticed it when they came it, but thought nothing of it. Because why would he?

When he said nothing, she dropped her hand and finally looked at him. “It should lead to G Plaza.”

Leon shook his head once. “Air vents aren’t sturdy enough to hold anything. That only happens in movies.”

Her eyebrow cocked. “Except these aren’t real air vents, and this place was specifically designed for creepy crawly things to get around.” She nodded at the door handle. “How else would you prevent people from just barricading themselves in?”

That was a horrifying thought, but he refused to believe that she had a point.

“It’s not big enough,” he declared.

“For you, maybe,” was her retort, and she kicked away from the wall. As she walked past the table, she reached out a hand to swipe up both the glowstick and the last bag of chips.

“That’s a bad idea,” he warned as she kicked a chair over to the wall beneath it.

“I only have bad ideas.” She stuffed the chips down the front of her shirt and put the glowstick between her teeth. With her hands free, she stepped onto the chair and reached up to the vent.

Unfortunately, the vent cover came off easily.

“Taliah!” he called, frustrated, but went ignored. She had managed to use the front of the vending machine as leverage to push off and hoist herself into the vent.

The opening was just big enough that she could fit in. “I might even come back for you,” she said over her shoulder, glowstick now in hand. “If you promise not to look at my ass.” And then she crawled in and disappeared.

Somehow, even in a locked room, she managed to run away from him again.

Exasperated, Leon threw himself into the closest chair. Why did no one ever listen to him? He may never know the answer, so he sat and focused on the fading sound of Taliah shuffling through the vent. That is, until the nagging beeping stole his attention.

He jabbed his earpiece hard enough to hurt. “Eavesdropping again?”

“Leon, I’m sending you all of Taliah’s files that we’ve acquired.” Suspiciously not a no. “In case it might help.” The satellite phone pinged in his pocket. “You... might want to take a look.”

Funny, how Hunnigan now only called when Taliah was not around, now wary of getting a taste of her own medicine.

But Leon heaved a sigh and fished out the phone. He knew it was not Hunnigan’s fault; like him, she was just following orders, but with the added pressure of higher ups literally breathing down her neck. If she was tapping his phone, it was because someone higher on the payroll wanted to be listening in. He figured it could only be because they either did not trust him—which was fair half the time—or they wanted every shred of information that Taliah had to give in case she decided not to speak on record.

Leon wondered if she would have been so forthcoming with her stories if she knew that Homeland Security had their ear to the door.

He scrolled through the files that Hunnigan sent, trying to psych himself up for what would not only be a breech of the already feeble trust he was trying to build with Taliah, but also likely be incredibly unpleasant. But he was locked in a room while the girl he swore to protect was crawling around in air ducts meant to be used by BOWs.

The last file was also the most recent, dated three weeks back. Unlike the previous files, it came attached with a video. Against his better judgement but driven by morbid curiosity, he clicked on the video.

At first, the screen only showed a blank room with a medical chair sitting in the center. The camera capturing the footage was clearly set up on a tripod across from it.

“Ready the subject,” a voice sounded through an intercom, the speaker evidently not in the room.

A moment later, a door off-screen opened, and two people in hazmat suits came in, dragging a struggling Taliah between them. A third followed but stood silently in the corner. Taliah resisted as they tried to strap her into the chair.

“What appears to be the problem?” A different voice coming through the intercom.

“The subject seems to be showing resistance.”

“Yeah, no shit!” Taliah spat, kneeing the closest person in the groin. Despite the sympathy pain, Leon hoped it hurt.

But they strapped her down, still struggling to break free. When the first voice said, “Ready the vial,” the person in the corner stepped forward, wielding a syringe.

“Wait!”

Leon watched with a deepening dread as Taliah begged to be let go, for the test to be postponed. He watched her face configure into a picture-perfect array of frailty; he heavily suspected it was for show, now knowing what that sadness and pain looked like when it was fresh.

“Proceed.”

They injected her anyway. And even though it was beyond obvious that she survived, Leon found it hard to watch. The first voice listed off her vitals, but Leon could not look away from Taliah. He thought having watched her battle a T-virus infection already would prepare him, but this was nothing like before.

This was watching a torture.

“Tell me, Taliah, how do you feel?” The second voice, and Leon would be anything that it was Dr. Elliott.

Confirming his suspicions. Taliah’s head snapped up, glaring beyond the camera, and Leon realized he had only witnessed a small fraction of the anger and hatred that she was capable of. If looks could kill...

But a moment later, she cried out in pain even as her voice distorted, the dark veins that had been creeping up her neck and across her face were invading her eyes, taking them over. Leon could hear the straps around her arms and legs groan from the tension. He could see the ripples in the air around her, see the sweat that beaded up but evaporated into steam a moment later.

Whatever they were testing her with, it was not the T-virus.

Taliah screamed then and folded forward, the straps around her wrists snapping.

“Make it stop!” she wailed, and her voice was folded into something that was no longer human. Her eyes opened wide, but they were a murky black.

“Sir, the serum. Shall I—”

“Not yet.”

“Eric, make it stop!”

Leon heard something in her voice that he had not heard from her before, but he knew exactly what it was. Fear. Whatever was happening to her, Taliah—who knew she was fully capable of surviving these viruses—was terrified.

He did not want to watch. He could not look away.

“Now,” what he assumed to be Dr. Elliott said much too calmly.

One of the hazmat people rushed into frame then, reaching out to inject her with something from as far away as could be managed.

But then something happened. It seemed like an explosion. Taliah screamed out a sound that was no longer human, but was somehow drowned out by the sound of flesh tearing apart. The attendant flew toward the camera, knocking into it and sending it toppling over. The screaming finished with the smack of a body hitting the ground. Voices within the room were jumbled, rushed and panic.

Something obstructed the view of the camera, half the screen taken up by a fleshy limb, perhaps an arm or a leg. It twitched occasionally. Behind it, he could see Taliah laying on the ground, the back of her two-toned hair and one bare shoulder visible. She was not moving.

“Sir, even with the effects of the serum, the mutation is likely cancerous,” the first voice was saying in a rush. “We will need to amputate immediately.”

“Do it,” Dr. Elliott said.

A beat later, two more bodies hurried into the room, kneeling around Taliah’s limp form. An unseen hand grabbed the camera and righted it, and Leon saw, to his horror, that what he thought was an arm was a long fleshy appendage, not unlike an insect’s leg, except it protruded out from just beside Taliah’s left shoulder blade.

Leon held his breath, remembering the scar he thought he caught a glimpse of, now all the more certain. Any furthers questions that ran through his mind at the sight were abruptly answered. He had not noticed the kneeling men tying a strap around the base of the mutated appendage. Leon realized it was a tourniquet a mere second before one of the men raised a surgical saw.

In the final frames of the video, Leon watched in horror as the blade made contact, the appendage flailed, and Taliah screamed. Then the video cut, leaving only the echoes and the taste of bile in his throat.

He sat, numb, sick, his mind reeling. He meant to click away from the torture, but his trembling thumb accidentally hit an attachment to the video. The phone’s screen filled with a written report. Leon skimmed the inhumane words, but something caught his eye.

Virus Administered: Chrysalid Virus

C-virus. The virus that wiped out Tall Oaks and most of Lanshiang, China.

Leon nearly crushed his phone in his fist at the rush of unwanted memories. The rest of the report was filled with data that he could not care less about. He saw that a few lines here and there were redacted. A footnote at the bottom caught his attention, as it was handwritten while the rest of typeface.

Footnote: Mutation successfully removed. The subject was administered two rounds of chemotherapy, after which all lingering cell mutations ceased. The subject made a full physical recovery, though it is noted that the subject’s mental health greatly diminished. Test considered a success.

Leon pocketed the phone; he could not stomach it anymore. The worst part was that Anti-C, the vaccine for the C-virus, was widely and readily available. What knowledge could possibly be gained by testing her with it, other than for an insecure sadist to judge the work of a hated colleague?

Did Taliah know, conscious during her own amputation, and in three weeks’ time, she would be getting out? Did she formulate her escape plan while sitting for chemotherapy?

“Still there?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper and somehow hoarse from the tension.

“Never left,” was Hunnigan’s quiet response. The heaviness of her voice told him that she had watched the video also. He did not have it in him to comment on the irony of her statement.

“These monsters,” he hissed, eyes shut. “Thinking they can play God.”

“Leon,” the timidness was uncharacteristic; he supposed that was cause enough to worry. “I believe Taliah may be hiding something.”

That opened his eyes, his frown deepening. She sure was hiding something, a shit ton of trauma.

“Parts of her story just weren’t adding up.”

“Like what?” It came out harsher than intended.

“She claims she was abducted by Umbrella five years ago, but Dr. Elliott’s reports on her tests only go back to three years ago.”

Was that enough to cause suspicions? Leon did not think so.

“That’s not all.” Yeah, he bet it wasn’t. “The doctors in the video spoke about a serum of some kind, but nothing in any of the files mentions it. Nothing in any of the research.”

“So?” Leon questioned.

Keyboard clacking answered him. “Reports came in that parts of the facility Taliah escaped from were destroyed, including any of the research surrounding her and her ability.”

He scoffed. “So, you’re saying we should be thanking her for doing half our job for us.”

Hunnigan groaned in frustration. “Can you think with your brain for just one second? She destroyed all physical evidence of their tests on her. Systematically. Only the written reports remain. And after seeing that video...” She trailed off then, and Leon heard her take a few steadying breaths. “If after what she experienced in that facility, she chose to use her freedom to go an Umbrella’s owned property, knowing that people would be after her, then whatever she is there looking for has to be important.”

Leon knew what she was going to say next, and he braced himself.

“Find whatever it is she’s looking for, and bring them both in.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, the start of a headache settling between his eyes. “Understood.”

“And Leon? Be careful.” Her voice was low, heavy with concern. “She’s clever. And she’s angry.”

Leon felt that she had every right to be, but he understood where Hunnigan was coming from. All the more reason to convince her to leave with him. He was ready to promise her Dr. Elliott’s head in a basket. But was that enough to change her mind about him? To keep the pendulum from swinging again? He had already offered to help her more than once.

What was the definition of insanity again?

He wiped a hand down his face, stretching out his spine. “Since you were eavesdropping,” he did not want to ask, but knew himself enough to know he was going to anyway. “Can you find out what happened to that guy, Caleb?”

A beat passed. “I already did. All it says in his file was that he was ‘terminated for workplace misconduct’.” And with that, the call ended.

He did not even have a second to breathe, to take it all in. From somewhere beyond the door came a now unmistakable sound. A scream. Leon was on his feet in a second, at the door before his body began to panic.

“Taliah!”

Chapter Text

The door opened easily, and like a trained matador, Taliah stepped aside as Leon came barreling out into the corridor. She bit down on the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling.

“Wow,” she said as he collected himself, watching him catch up with reality. “That almost sounded sincere.”

Worry quickly frosted over to indignation, and she marveled at the way it changed his face. He blew out a breath and straightened.

“That wasn’t funny,” he growled. He looked more than a little shaken.

“No,” she admitted; it was a cheap prank, one that affected him more than she thought. “But it was the second time I’ve had to rescue you.”

His expression was still pinched, concerned and annoyed in equal parts. It was not fair, she knew. Especially now that she had some idea of the hells he lived through. A hero complex was one thing, but survivor's guilt was a much trickier beast. But still, she could not bring herself to apologize. She could live with him being mad at her; she preferred it that way.

She had gotten too close, let him get too close. She needed to reestablish space between them.

Ideally, she needed to get rid of him.

But his face had softened, and he let out a heavy breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was worried something bad happened to you.”

Too close, too close, too close. Remember what happened the last time, she scolded herself.

“You're five years too late for that,” she said, all jokes aside, and moved past him. She felt his impulse to reach out and touch her, to stop her. She was beginning to expect it.

Which is why she hurried past down the corridor. There would be other damsels to save. She was a lost cause.

“Taliah.”

Don't stop, she repeated to herself. Don't stop. And for the love of God, do not look him in the eyes.

“What exactly are you looking for?”

She stopped. It was direct, damn near an accusation. She already suspected they were feeding him information, but she knew she had gotten rid of all the important evidence. Was he guessing, or was she getting careless?

Probably both.

She turned, but not all the way. If she looked into those blue eyes now, she would be screwed.

“I found something in G Plaza,” she said, trying to keep her voice as close to normal without being too familiar or too cold. “You're going to want to see it.”

That was his job, wasn't it? To investigate the Playground? Did she believe that anymore?

He followed her silently through the corridor as she headed back the way she came, but all the while she could feel the tension of suspicion and distrust radiating from him. She knew this did not put an end to his question, only delayed it.

The employee door at the end of the corridor opened into a nook in the Gratitude Plaza. Afternoon sun poured in from the glass paneled ceiling, filling the triangular space with bright light. Balconies from North and West wings decorated two of the walls, a decorative staircase wound down the third.

The floor was sunken in the middle for what would have been a seemingly calm sitting area. A water feature sat dead center, off but partially filled with old, stagnant water. Like in the atrium, it was bordered by fake plants and benches, a few were knocked aside.

Kids were likely meant to throw pennies in, which made the true nature of the feature all the more horrific.

Taliah stood at the edge of the space, gazing at what looked like an artistic flourish to the fountain. Leon stood just behind her, looking everywhere else.

She risked looking at him, but he was thankfully too engrossed to look back. A split second she noticed the way the sun lit up his hair, made of the blue in his eyes glint. But then she clutched the key in her pocket tight enough to leave a mark and pulled herself together.

“What exactly am I looking at?” he asked, pupils sliding to her for only a moment.

She crossed her arms. “Nothing.”

The suspicion on his face was no longer loosely masked when he turned toward her.

She nearly rolled her eyes. “What you’re not looking at is another one of the traps.”

That got his attention, and he twisted back to the space. “And it's been triggered?”

This one was motion-activated, live thanks to the generator. The sensor was likely deeper into the fountain, so as not to be triggered by just anything passing by. But the firing contraption was discharged and empty.

“Mhm.”

How this man could flit back and forth between such strong emotions, Taliah would never understand, because he looked back at her nervously.

This time, she did roll her eyes. “No, not by me. It was like this when I came out.” She nodded toward the contraption, prompting him to look closer, which he did with heightened caution. Taliah thought that was unnecessary, since all the traps were single use, hence why there were several. It left everything up to chaotic chance. “No way of telling when it got tripped, either.”

“So then what triggered it?” he asked, not necessarily to her.

She stepped back. “Isn't that your job to figure out, rookie?”

Leon straightened and looked toward the mouth of the plaza. “I did see some graffiti out front, and a few broken windows.”

Taliah nodded. “That must be how the deer got in.” Then she paused, her frown deepening. There was a slight chance it was a misfire, but something in her gut told her otherwise. The Playground had been abandoned for three years, anyone could have wandered in, gotten infected, and wandered back out in that time.

“I hope it didn’t hit anything,” she mused, half to herself. After noticing the sprung trap, she scanned the area for the dart but found nothing. “If I remember correctly, not all of them are rigged with something as simple as the T-virus.”

She knew instantly that was the wrong thing to say when he wheeled on her. His face was hard, and she instinctively took another step back.

“How insightful,” was Leon’s curt response. “You sure seem to know a lot about this place—”

Taliah sighed inwardly. The short-lived stalemate was over, she supposed. Time to tap dance through a mine field. But he had not finished.

“—for a prisoner who wasn’t allowed contact with anyone.”

There was the accusation. “The hell does that mean?” she shot back. Arms locked straight at her sides, hands balled into fists. Something happened while she was gone, he had changed toward her somehow. What does he know? What did they tell him? What did she accidentally give away?

He blinked, and for a flash, he looked shocked at his own words. He had no immediate response.

“If you’ve got something to say, Agent Kennedy, then say it.” She really wished he would not. It was Pandora’s intel; she wanted to know what he knew, but not at the cost of knowing that he knew.

His eyes narrowed in on her. She could see him struggle to hold something back. “What’s the point?” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t get a real answer out of you anyway.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” she declared, squaring off against him. He was easily double her weight and muscle mass, but not much taller than her. And anger made her bold, indignation made her loud. The bubbling shame made her want to turn and run.

“You don’t owe them anything, either.” He jabbed a finger at the fountain, making it clear who he meant. He was also getting louder, bolder, frustration egging him on. “After what they did to you. So, I don’t understand why you keep pushing me away when we’re on the same side.” He took a step closer. “We want the same thing here, Taliah.”

“You have no idea what I want.” It was her voice, but she did not remember giving her mouth permission to say it.

He took another step, and she became acutely aware that he had put himself between her and the entrance. Her fight or flight was on standby.

“The DSO has been after Dr. Elliott for years. You can help us bring him down, Taliah. You can help us end this. You can make sure he never hurts anyone again.”

For a cold moment, Taliah’s mind ran blank. What was happening? How did she manage to back herself into this metaphorical and physical corner? “I...” was all she could manage, and even that did not sound like her. “I can’t...”

“I don’t understand. Why protect him?”

“I’m not!”

His internal control was crumbling while she had lost any and all she had on the situation.

“You sure? Because you two seem pretty close, considering you’re on a first-name basis with the man who tortures you.”

She jolted as if struck, her mouth already parted, excuses and half-truths sitting bitter on her tongue. Her stomach flipped, her legs suddenly felt like rubber. Even as she tried desperately to hold her composure, she felt her face slip. It was time to run, run and not look back, but her legs would not answer. Her arms wrapped tightly around her.

Of course, that would be what finally broke her. Eric would be thrilled. And he was always just Eric to her. She had her reasons why.

Leon saw, she watched him analyze her reaction, even as she was helpless to stop it. She could not even brace herself for his victory. All she could do was look anywhere but at him.

But only silence followed. He stood there, staring at her, mouth pressed into a line. After a moment, he gave a slight sigh, barely more than a rough exhale. Something behind his eyes changed.

“Don’t worry, huh?”

She knew what he meant, she knew exactly what he meant. He had been paying attention, but was consistently much smarter than she gave him credit for, every step of the way.

“I—”

A thundering crash sounded nearby, bouncing off the angled walls. Taliah jumped, every emotion forgotten as fear and adrenaline took over. Leon was bodily in front of her in a moment, his gun out and in both hands.

“The deer?” she whispered; it seemed like the logical thing to do.

The back of Leon’s head shook one. “Too big,” his voice also low. “Stay close,” he ordered, and in the next beat was moving forward.

Taliah did not know why she fell into step behind him, but she did. The sound came from outside of the plaza, the echoing in the vast empty space making it difficult to triangulate. Together, they moved out into the North Wing, and Leon resumed his scan of the stores.

A squeak and a shuffle behind her nearly stopped her heart, and Leon reacted immediately, pivoting on the spot, but saw before she did what it was. The large, brown rat scurried past out of the store they had just passed, paying no mind to them.

Taliah shivered, involuntarily. She liked rats, at the best of times; they were intelligent and surprisingly hygienic and always got the short end of the stick throughout medical history. What made her skin crawl was upon seeing the rat run by, a quote popped into her head.

Like rats fleeing a sinking ship.

So, what was it running from?

Leon had moved on after seeing the rat run off, assuming it posed no threat. But Taliah had not moved. She stood there, looking into the half-built store, its overhead lighting flickering from age. Her eyes were used to finding things in the dark, and she scanned the various shadows.

Nameless, it was impossible to tell that the store might have been. The fixtures were all basically the same in all of them, and they stood bare, making it more of a mystery. But she noticed a shelving unit laying on its side toward the back. If she squinted, she could still see the dust floating in the air whenever the bulbs flickered on. It had been disturbed, which meant that the crash likely came from here.

But why?

She suddenly did not like that the man with the gun was walking away from her, and she turned back to catch up with him.

A gasp caught in her throat, blood frosting over. Her joints locked, brain liquifying.

How it had moved so quietly and so quickly, she would never know.

It stood in front of Leon, who had not gotten much farther than her. It was still roughly the same size as before, but that was about all that was recognizable. The large eyes were milky and dripping. The once caramel-colored fur now had a greenish-grey film that made it matted and bristled.

The antlers were now overgrown and misshapen, the tines splitting and branching at chaotic angles, a few even went through the creature’s hide and came out again, like a piercing. Chunks of skin were missing or rotting away, and the sickly-sweet odor of decay wafted from it. The snout was oddly elongated, with odd tendrils and flaps hanging from it. Blood dripped sloppily from its mouth.

The mutated thing that had once been a stag made a chewing motion, and a wet crunch could be heard. Taliah realized that the snout was not deformed the same moment the creature tossed its head to swallow the rat that was in its mouth, limp tail and legs disappearing down its gullet.

And there, sticking out of the side of its swollen flanks, was the dart.

The water fountain, she remembered. It probably wanted a drink.

“Taliah, run!”

She did.

Chapter Text

Taliah had barely reached a sprint before the shots rang out. She had heard gunfire before, more than once, but the echoing of the open and empty floors made each shot feel like an explosion directly in her ears. She did not think to cover them, she needed her arms to run. There was no looking back, either. Not this time.

She was halfway to East Wing before her brain let any thoughts through the adrenaline haze. When the ringing in her ears ebbed, there was enough space to notice the shots were farther away. Only then did she stop running, hand pressed to the wall as she caught her breath. They were thankfully no longer in sight.

It was not exactly how she imagined getting this opportunity, but she had to take it. Right? Leon was thoroughly preoccupied on the other side of the mall, and she already had two of the three keys. This was her chance. She had already royally screwed up her plans, and now she was handed the opportunity to get back on track.

Leave him, her brain demanded, over and over. Leave him. Leave him.

The final key would be somewhere in this wing. She could hurry to find it and get to the elevator and finally be gone from this circle of hell. Into the next, deeper one. Like she was meant to long before now.

Leon would be fine. Leave him.

Taliah faltered, looking back as another shot bounced off every exposed surface. Was he conserving ammo? The shots were slowing down, farther apart. She knew he had speed and agility, but once the fever cooked the host’s brain leaving room for the T-virus to take over, only the unending hunger remained. It was now kill or be killed. Every bullet needed to count.

Leave him.

Did he need to conserve ammo? She thought he had plenty.

Leave him.

Was he not firing because he couldn’t? Was he hurt?

Leave him.

“Dammit!”

Taliah whirled around, eyes scanning. The store was a few down from her; she remembered seeing it earlier. When she stood at the balcony above her, gazed into a pair of deep, soulful eyes, and utterly fucked herself. It was seriously called “Herb’s Herbs,” and under any other circumstance, she would be willing to spend the time to vomit that knowledge out of her memory. However.

Another shot was fired, and Taliah ran into the herbalist shop, half of a bad idea forming in her head. Ignoring the pain in her arm, she stripped out of her flannel and threw it onto a display table. She grabbed vials and tinctures of several strong-smelling herbs, dumping each one over the flannel. Lavender, sage, mint, rosemary. She could barely breathe without choking on the intense aroma. But that was the point. They were all natural deer repellants.

Carrying the dripping, pungent mess of fabric by the sleeves, Taliah made the stupid decision to run back the way she came. Back toward the danger.

And back toward the man who would not have even considered leaving her. The idiot.

The fight had moved to the center atrium giving both more room, but it also meant that every single sound was amplified and carried to every corner of the building. Taliah stopped just shy of the large open space, keeping in cover behind a kiosk.

It became immediately obvious why the deer was not dead yet. A normal deer, even a full-grown stag, was not usually bigger than an adult man. But this one was infected with the T-virus, which was known to mutate under the right conditions.

Maybe it was the energy from snacking on poor rats, maybe it was the stress of being shot at, but something had clearly triggered a mutation. It was now twice the size, whether it wanted to be or not. Hide looking ready to rip where it bulged out unnaturally, swathes of fur gone now to expose stretching muscles.

The creature's head was now the size of Leon's torso and painfully misshapen. The antlers had grown also, the ends piercing more of its neck and shoulders. And in a feat of evolutionary fuckery, it's mouth now gnashed with fangs, crooked and pointy and dripping with gore.

Well, just like that, her plan went from bad to suicidal. She could not exactly metabolize an antler gored through her gut. Or a bullet, depending on the accuracy of Leon's aim.

Her gaze quickly found him, checked him over. He did not look ripped in two, but there was a small smear of blood on his forehead and dirt and grime on his arms. If anything, he looked annoyed at having to go a second round with this thing. And with higher stakes.

He hasn't seen you yet, leave him.

The creature—because that was what it was now—charged then, and Leon dove out of the way, but it crashed into a potted plant. The fake fern and its heavy ceramic pot torpedoed into Leon's side, sending him in one direction and his gun skidding off in another. He rolled and tried to jump up, but fell back to his knees, hand flying to grip his side. The creature recovered first, rounding and marking its target with a slobbering growl.

Taliah bolted forward. She rounded the fountain just as the creature came around. There was no time to think and no room to reconsider. A bench worked as a springboard, giving her height and leverage. Horrifyingly, it worked. She managed to catch the creature’s snout in the flannel, nearly being jerked out of the air as it kept going. It faltered in its confusion, giving Taliah the opening to wrap the herb-soaked fabric fully around the creature’s muzzle, using the sleeves to tie it on, as tight as she could manage.

Hot blood splattered onto her arms, the stench making her stomach turn. The creature huffed and snorted, but each breath was choked. Taliah leapt back as it began to thrash its head, unable to get away from the fumes. Its own antlers ripped through its own flesh in the struggle. Strangled cries were muffled through the flannel. It lifted a grotesquely skinless leg to try and swipe the shirt away.

A shot exploded too close to her ear, and Taliah’s hands instinctively flew to her ears. The creature screamed as the other front leg buckled from the bullet that went straight through the joint, and the entire thing toppled forward.

“Warn me next—” she began to yell, lowering her hands and turning, but a hand gripped hers and yanked her into a run.

“Are you okay?” Leon pulled her as he ran, not looking back.

“No!” she shrilled, thinking it would be easier to keep up if she was allowed her hand back. The reality of what she had just done had not sunk in yet; she could only imagine what the ordeal looked like from his perspective.

Only then did he stop, Taliah pulling her hand out of his grasp, both catching their breath. It could have been the adrenaline flooding her brain, but she could not decipher the look he gave her.

“That was a bad idea,” was all he said.

Taliah wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re welcome,” she huffed, not able to hold eye contact. Did he know that she left him behind? Was he as surprised as she was that she came back?

A scream sounded behind them, no longer muffled. Leon’s body locked into a combat stance, gun pointed and everything.

“Stay behind me,” he barked as the creature came barreling back into view, slightly lolloping with one injured leg. Shreds of fabric hung from its face, caught on fangs and antlers. One shot hit the shoulder, a second straight into the neck. Neither looked to have any effect. This thing was not going down.

But Taliah was looking up. Hanging down from the ceiling, at various intervals, were decorative chandeliers. Made of sculpted glass, swirling and spiraling down like strands of DNA that ended in sharp points, she had always thought they looked tacky. She still thought that.

 “I have a worse idea.” Which was an absolute understatement. “Don’t miss.”

“Taliah!”

But she was already sprinting forward, toward the charging monster. It roared at her, head tilting down, antlers pointed out like a jousting knight with a lance. By far, her worst idea.

At the last second, she folded and slid beneath the creature, which stumbled trying to follow her. Pushing back up to her feet, she heard the gun fire, heard the ping as the bullet severed the chandelier’s tether. The creature screamed, mixing with the woosh of something heavy falling through the air.

She was barely stable on her feet when a weight crashed into her, her spine flattening against the wall. Darkness enveloped her as a cacophony of shattering glass filled the space. Leon’s body covered her completely, his arms blocking her head. In the dark space between them, she saw him wince, could hear glass shrapnel bouncing off the wall on either side of them.

And then, in the next moment, everything fell silent. Another beat, and Leon’s lowered from around her head, but stayed planted against the wall, keeping her locked in. In the space, she could see the destruction, a ripple of broken glass with a still-twitching but headless monster at the center.

“Nice shot, rookie.” She had not meant to say it, but it came out anyway. She looked back to Leon and almost instantly regretted it.

In the moment, she did not have time to notice, but as the danger passed and the world slowed back down, Taliah became increasingly aware of how close they were.

The tractor beam of his eyes finally caught her, and there was no looking away. She refused to think about how his face was inches from hers, how a head tilt would bring them together. His arms were against hers, hands on the wall to either side of her. It was only then that she realized her own hands were flat against his chest, caught between them.

He did not move away; she did not push him away.

“Are you okay?” she asked, voice barely more than whisper. The silence between them was too loud. Her eyes scanned over the small streak of blood on his forehead. It did not look to be coming from anywhere, likely from the creature.

Leon’s chest heaved, pressing into hers with each breath. The start of a smirk formed on his lips. “I’ll live.”

She felt his hands against the backs of her arms, cupping her elbows. Was he somehow getting closer?

Did she want him to?

“Are you okay?” he asked, and his face was definitely at a closer angle, their noses now a handful of atoms away from touching.

Why were her hands sliding up toward his shoulders? One hand did not stop there, but lifted to the side of his face. The hair he kept long in the front brushed against her fingers. Without looking away from his deep blue eyes, Taliah plucked the small device from his ear, let it drop to the ground, and crushed it beneath the heel of her shoe.

Leon let her do it, too, gazing down at her just as intensely. Waiting.

Her mouth moved, and for a split second, she had absolutely no clue what was about to happen next.

“A serum.”

It was her voice, but that was not what she thought her brain was going to come up with.

Leon blinked, apparently also surprised. Was that disappointment in the lines of his face?

Her hands at his shoulders applied the slightest pressure, and he leaned away, both pairs of arms dropping away from the other person. A wave of heat and cold and suffocating air rushed into the vacuum of space that opened between them. Something pulled in the base of her stomach, a flicker of regret for having broken the bubble.

It was nice in the bubble.

“That’s what I’m looking for.”

He caught back up quickly. He still hovered, standing close, but no part of them was touching now. She could see as some part of his brain clicked back on. “And it’s here?”

Taliah shook her head, numb and distantly wondering why she had spoken at all when she knew what the alternative could have been. “Not here, but the way to get to it is here.”

It sounded like nonsense to her—her brain had not yet clicked back on—but comprehension filled Leon’s face. He took another step back, and Taliah grew another degree colder.

“Let me guess,” he said, digging his hands into his hips. “A secret underground facility beneath the murder mall.”

That was enough to snap Taliah back to reality. “How did you...?” The words were gone. This was not what her mouth wanted to be doing and was making that her problem.

He shook his head. “There’s always one.”

It was a statement, weighed down by reluctant acceptance. What the hell has this man seen?

Taliah nodded, dumbfounded. “There’s a freight elevator in the backrooms of Mercy Plaza.” She could see the blueprints in her head, any excuse not to look at him. “But it needs three keys. One in the other three plazas.”

He gave a returning nod. “They shouldn’t be too hard to find if we work together.”

She dug into her pocket and pulled out two of the keys.

A flash of a smirk crossed his face. “When did you get those?”

The first was before their first encounter, in T Plaza; she had come in directly next to it. The second she went from the moment she emerged from the vent, and only noticed the sprung trap after retrieving it.

“The last one should be in the Compliance Plaza,” was her choice of answer.

Half of her brain screamed at her to stop, to make up an excuse, convince him everything she just said was a lie. But the other half of her brain was exhausted, growing soggy from the vulnerability. She would deal with the complications of bringing Leon along later. She just wanted to be done. And after a day of everything going wrong, telling him felt like getting back on track.

Maybe he would even forgive her. Maybe she would end this with a scrap of redemption.

Besides, if his mission was to investigate the mall, why not show him exactly what it was a front for? What did she possibly have left to lose?

“Taliah.” His soft voice caught her attention, and she gave in and faced him. His gaze was delicate, but solid on her, something she could feel against her skin despite the growing space between them. “What happens when we find this serum?”

Almost over. This nightmare was almost over.

“I need to destroy it.”

Chapter Text

The underground facility was much easier to break into than most. Going through the Playground entrance seemed like an utter waste of time, especially when there was another entrance through the nearby town, tucked discreetly in the back of an unused warehouse. All that was required was a simple EMF Visualizer, a computerized lockpick, and a crowbar.

Work smarter, not harder.

The call had come through early, and thanks to the unexpected data breech, information was plentiful. Planning was a piece of cake. Honestly, one of the easier jobs as far as ROI. A real “home in time for dinner” assignment.

And better yet, it was turning out to be a little trip down memory lane. More than one familiar name came across the reports.

Subject TT. What an adorable pet name. Of course, a background check was able to fill in some of the gaps from the intel.

According to the system, her name was Taliah Walker, though her real name was Taliah Strode. “Looks like she lucked out of getting a worse last name." Born January 26th, 1982. Graduated from a notable university with a degree in ecology in 2003. And was taken into Umbrella's custody in 2009, where they locked her away in this very facility.

For a little while, at least.

But there were things that could not be gleaned from a background check. Like the fact that behind the sweet, girl-next-door exterior, Taliah was a lot smarter than she looked.

Upon receiving an anonymous tip that people far worse were interested in her, the girl managed to convince one of the head researchers at the facility to turn against the others, effectively igniting a coup. Like a modern day Helen of Troy.

"A girl after my own heart."

He whisked her away, leaving a trail of destruction behind them. Anyone not caught in the crossfire either jumped ship or fled, leaving the original facility abandoned nearly as is.

And that same researcher was stupid enough to let her slip through his fingers and was now evidently desperate to get her back.

But that was some else's problem. The true target of the job was instead something that ended up getting left behind. Finders, keepers.

A serum. Thanks to Taliah, it very recently became the last of its kind. A prototype with a lot of creative potential. For good or for bad, it made no real difference. For profit was what mattered here.

The only hitch was the backup generator, running on half-power, cycling between the facility below and the juvenile science fair project sitting above it. When the power was down, the security locks went up. The first task would be to find the controls and revert to full power. Should be easy enough. It would add a few minutes now, but save a lot of time later.

Even without a map of the facility, viral storage was not hard to locate. See one underground bioweapon testing facility, seen them all. And it was not like there was anyone left running around to cause any problems. So much had been left behind during the mass exodus, it was almost surprising that no one had raided it before now.

The serum was exactly where the intel said it would be, just sitting and asking to be taken.

Ada Wong held up the vial and smiled.

“Easy.”

Chapter Text

The freight elevator looked like any other that could be found in a similar situation. Taliah hit the call button, and the entire wall began to rattle, deep rumblings echoing from beneath them. The whining mechanisms from within screamed from long periods of disuse, either needing oil or to be put out of its misery.

"Hm."

Leon looked over, seeing Taliah regarding the outer doors with a frown. "What?"

"It's coming up," she answered softly, thoughtfully. The lines of her face resembled concern, but he really did not know what to make of her looks anymore.

"Sounds like it," he confirmed with a nod. Depending on how far below them the underground facility was, it could take a little while at the pace it was going.

She cut him a sideways glance. "Which means someone took it down last."

Then he understood. His back straightened. "Is the facility still in use?"

She shook her head once. "It's been abandoned for a while." Her tone was flat, and she kept her head facing the doors. "But there are other ways in and out." She paused again. "I just don't know them."

She said with the slightest hint of an edge to her voice, like she anticipated his interrogation and already had a defense ready.

A knot that had been growing in his stomach for a while tightened. He thought he had done it, finally got through, proven himself to her. But since the moment she told him about the serum and the keys and the secret Umbrella facility beneath them, the walls were up and fortified. Barely a word passed between them on the way to the plaza, after confirming the mutated stag was dead.

Leon thought the knot began then, the moment she moved away from him after the fight, the moment the bubble burst. It was his fault, he knew. He had crossed that boundary, not her. Why did he not just let go of her when the danger had passed? What exactly did he think was going to happen? That she would fall for him and tell him all her secrets?

She might have trusted him enough to tell him that much, but she certainly did not trust the people listening in, whether she knew they were or not. And he let her break his earpiece, all the while knowing he was going to catch hell for it, because he wanted it as much as she did. He wanted the privacy, wanted to pass the test.

That was not entirely true, though. That was not what he wanted.

The problem was not her distrust. The real problem was that he might have actually kissed her. He was too lost in those eyes that knew so much yet gave so little away. She had a gravity about her, one that he could not seem to break out of. He did not think he wanted to, fully ready to chuck professional decorum out the window and into the hands of Human Resources.

He might be seen as a hero against bioterrorism, but throw a pretty girl with trust issues and a mysterious past into the mix, and he became a liability.

The third and final key, as it turned out, was not very hidden at all. Found beneath the lip of one of the planters in the plaza, nearly identical to all the others, it was plausible anyone could have found it by accident. Leon had even scoffed when Taliah walked right up to it and plucked it out.

Her eyes flashed to him for a moment, but she never turned her head.

"That's it?" he asked, incredulous. No codes? No elaborate counterweight system rigged with seemingly impossible mechanisms? Not even a theme to the keys?

She stuffed the key into her pocket with the others. "Eric is a lot of things, but ingenious isn't one of them."

Leon studied her profile, carefully debating his next move. "Why do you call him that?" He took special care to keep his voice soft, not give her anything to flinch at. "It humanizes him."

She actually met his eyes then. "Exactly." A beat passed, and she sighed. "He thinks of himself as a god, creating and destroying life however he wants." Don't they all, Leon pondered. Taliah shrugged. "No god was ever called something as stupid as Eric."

Leon cracked a smile, he could not help it. It was so subtly petty in a way that he could perfectly imagine her doing it to upset him.

Not unlike how she has only called him by his name once and to get something she wanted. And it worked.

Unfortunately, the knot in his stomach only grew, remembering the look on her face when he first called her out on it. It was impulsive, childish, fueled by frustration and perhaps a hint of jealousy. It was unprofessional and now knowing the reason, he regretted it.

He wanted to apologize, but knew this was not the time to bring it back up. Not as the silence between them thickened, the only sounds being their footsteps as they walked through more backrooms, coming up on the freight elevator.

All three keys were used to open the security box that housed the call button. It was a lot of hassle to keep the entrance hidden, and yet still seemed too simple to him. Three normal keys and one elevator, and only one mutated monster. What was the catch?

The catch was that he knowingly agreed to help Taliah find and destroy something that he was ordered to bring in. The catch was that he promised to get her out of there, knowing the DSO was setting up an interrogation for her all the while.

When the elevator finally arrived, Leon stepped forward, silently taking the lead. She could roll her eyes at the back of his head all she wanted--and he could feel it--there was no way he was trusting anything from that point on. Fortunately, the elevator was empty, the air trapped inside stale. They entered silently, Taliah moving to the opposite side to him. The knot clenched.

Suddenly, the lights in the mall around them went out, but the single bulb in the elevator car remained on. Taliah did not react, and so Leon did not question it.

There was only one floor button. The doors screeched as they closed, locking them in whether committed or not. Leon was suspicious of the situation they were literally being dropped into, and his instincts were to check in with Hunnigan. He still had his satellite phone, but without the earpiece, Taliah would hear everything. They were tracking him via GPS, but the signal would weaken the further down they went.

It was a future problem.

"Thanks, by the way."

Taliah looked up, almost startled that he had spoken. She frowned, a lopsided one at least. "For what?"

He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. "For coming back."

He saw the small twitch she made, and it nearly brought a smile to his face. He just turned his gaze toward the doors. "I won't ask why, just thanks."

Silence came from her side, somehow louder than the pulley mechanisms. It was nearly a full minute before she softly said, "Three."

He looked at her, and from the angle she tilted her head, it almost looked like she was trying to conceal a smirk. Her eyes met his.

"Three times I've saved you."

He gambled with a weak smile. "Bout time I start repaying the favor."

She looked away, but the line of her body loosened a fraction, her shoulders, previously rigid, dropped an inch. "Not everyone can be saved, you know."

He knew, better than most. But he did not believe that meant he should not try. As soon as you gave up hope, gave up trying, you lost.

Leon sighed, more heavily than he meant to, but the realization hit him that he was going to have to give something if he wanted an end to the stony silence. He gathered his courage, knowing he was going to have to put into words deeply internalized feelings.

“Back in Raccoon City, I met a girl.”

And just like that, the story of meeting Ada poured out of him. He kept his gaze to the ground as he talked, summarizing some of their later encounters, glossing completely over others. Taliah remained quiet the entire time, and when he stole a glance up at her, she was watching him with a pensive expression. Something about that encouraged him to continue, to be honest with her and with himself.

“Half of me knows I’m an idiot, the other half of me doesn’t care.” He never told another person what he was telling her, and he still did not know why. She wanted him to be vulnerable, well here it was.

"I think,” say it, he told himself. Finally say it out loud. “The worst thing I've ever done was convince myself that something might change. To not... let her go and move on."

He did not feel lighter having said it, it only made him feel all the more foolish. But still, there was the flutter in his pulse whenever he thought about her, his mind naively hanging onto the What Ifs enough to shroud his better judgement.

Taliah had her arms wrapped around herself when he looked back at her, her face twisted into something that was not exactly pity.

"I'm sorry..." she began, and Leon opened his mouth to assure her, but she added, "but I don't see the problem."

Leon blinked. "What?"

She shrugged. "It's complicated, sure, but not world ending." A hint of a smile was offered. "You're on opposite sides, but that just makes it fun."

Leon stood, brows furrowed and lips pursed. He was at a complete loss for words. This was not exactly going the way he expected. Which he should have anticipated from Taliah anyway, he supposed.

“It’s never going to happen.” How many times had he thought that, over and over. Repeating it like a mantra, begging himself to accept it, to believe it this time.

“Not with that attitude.”

He had nothing in return. All he could do was stand and watch as her eyes scanned his face. What was she looking for in him? A part of him hoped she finally saw the broken loser that he felt like in that moment. It was probably a far cry from whatever she saw back when he was—maybe—about to kiss her.

The corner of Taliah’s lips quirked, and for a split-second Leon worried he had vocalized his thoughts, but she said, “No offense, but my story was definitely worse.”

He regarded her for a moment, wanting to laugh and not finding the emotional energy to. Instead, he reached into his pack and pulled out his laser sight. The temptation to walk over, stand near her again, let their hands touch, maybe linger, was why he tossed the small device to her.

“When we get out of here, I’ll try to come up with a better story.”

Something flickered behind her eyes, but she looked away to stuff the sights into her pocket, which was now devoid of keys. She sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the next.

"So does your beloved femme fatale have a name?"

Leon flinched, but tried to hide it. A few, probably. And none of them were likely the truth.

He blew out a breath; he had come this far. "I know her as Ada Wong."

Taliah's brows shot up, and Leon was momentarily confused by her surprise. But as her face changed and she struggled to hide her reaction, he realized it was not just surprise. It was recognition. And suddenly Leon was confused for a whole different reason.

"Wow," she began on a huff of a laugh. She must have accepted that she was caught losing control of her poker face. "No one can say you're not ambitious." She lifted a hand to run her fingers through the white section of hair, using it as an excuse to look away.

"You know her?" He searched her face for any sign that she was joking or mocking him.

He heard her inhale slowly, shoulders scrunching up. "I know... of her."

"How?" The question came out sharp, much more brusque than he intended. Look at him, he thought, thinking about hypothetically kissing a girl while demanding answers about another. Probably why he was still single.

Taliah’s eyes darted as she collected whatever thoughts she was having. “Wasn’t Simmons obsessed with her?”

Whatever Leon thought might be the connection between them, the most logical one never occurred to him. “That’s... a bit of an understatement.”

A hint of a smirk appeared, and with it, a glimpse of her cheekier side that he was beginning to miss. “Bet that was fun to get caught in the middle of.”

He knew exactly what she was implying, but when he opened his mouth to retort, the elevator jostled, sending them both stumbling as the car came to a stop. Talking was over, and Leon had his gun out and ready. The doors screeched as they slowly opened.

The room was smooth, polished, and empty. The sight of it brought back a flood of memories. The cold lights set into the ceiling were in stark contrast to the warmth of the skylights. Leon remembered what Hunnigan had said about the energy readouts, and he suspected that the power was cycling between the two locations; when the power went out in the mall, it came on down here.

Lucky them.

Taliah rushed forward, the echoing of her footsteps sounding somehow hollower against the laminate floor. Leon followed silently, not letting his guard down for a second.

“You know where you’re going?” It was less to ask for directions, more to point out that it did seem like she knew exactly where she was going. There was no hesitation in her strides.

She did not even glance over her shoulder. “Seen one evil lab, seen them all.”

What a characteristically vague non-answer, Leon thought sourly, but said nothing.

They moved swiftly down a vacant corridor, and Taliah took a sharp left, the automatic door whooshing open for her.

Ironically, Leon had seen multiple evil labs and knew on sight that this had to be a control room. Monitors lined the opposite wall, black and blank, switched off. Keyboards attached to multi-screen computers sat beneath them. Wires and circuitry jutted out here and there, evidently some machinery had been removed hastily.

Taliah marched up to one of the computers, waking it up. He suspected she had downplayed her computer skills earlier. She tapped at the keys with a single finger, which abruptly stopped.

“What the hell?”

Leon tried to peer over her shoulder, but did not understand the information on the screen. “What?”

“The power’s been reverted...” She trailed off, the screen painting her concerned expression a digital shade of green. He stood next to her, and that got her attention. “It was cycling before, but someone must have...”

A panicked look wiped across her face, and her fingers suddenly flew across the keys, clicking with renewed tenacity. A flurry of pages popped up on the screen, technicolored and analytical, and Leon could not follow any of them. He thought some of them were schematics.

“Shit!” Her fist slammed onto the keyboard as she jumped back from the computer. Leon barely had the time to react before she was running.

“No no no,” he heard her hiss, keeping pace behind her as she ran.

Down another corridor and to the right. Leon did not miss the sign over the doors that read, “Viral Storage.” The room was pristine and about ten degrees colder than the rest of the place. He wanted a moment to take everything in, to take stock of just how many deadly things were sitting unattended in chilled vials all around him.

But Taliah had cursed with enough vitriol that it stole his attention.

The storage case in front of her sat empty, glass shards of what was once a protective barrier littered the ground beneath it. It did not take a scientist to understand what happened.

Whatever the serum was, someone had gotten there before them and taken it.

Chapter Text

Taliah sprinted back to the control room, this time Leon was barely able to keep up. Back at the computer, her fingers were a blur on the keyboard. She jabbed forcefully at a button, and suddenly the lights in the room changed.

The lights took on a red hue, dimming slightly from the contrast. He heard what sounded like doors nearby slamming shut.

Had she just put this place into lockdown?

Regardless, he positioned himself so that he was facing the door they had come in, but Taliah was next to him and within arm's reach. But when he looked over to check on her, the look on her face pulled his full attention.

He had never seen her like this. She looked distraught, coming apart at the seams. Her expression was pinched with panic, cheeks flushed, eyes beginning to glisten over. Any remnant of her steely poker face had disintegrated. She pushed her hands through her hair, starting to mindlessly pace.

His concern for her was only matched by his concern for the whole situation.

"Taliah," he said, strongly and clearly, hoping to snap her out of her panic. He wanted to grab her, to make her look him in the eyes, but he resisted. "I'm sorry, but I need to know. What is in that serum? Why does it need to be destroyed?"

She stopped pacing just out of his reach. She shook her head as if unaware that she was doing it. "I have to. It's the last thing left."

He chanced a half step closer. "What do you mean?"

He could not tell if she was listening to him or not, but she said, "I already destroyed the others." Her voice was clipped, unsteady. She looked ready to completely fall apart. "The entire trial, the reports, the research, everything is gone. This was the only thing left."

Leon took a full step, standing directly in front of her. "What is it?"

"Me!" she shouted then, foot stomping, hands balled into tight fists. She glared up at him, eyes nearly brimming. "It's made from my DNA that they stole from me!"

There it finally was, the anger that he knew was brimming just beneath the surface. He had only seen a fraction before.

"Umbrella wanted to use my DNA to try and synthesize my ability. They wanted to make the viruses harder to vaccinate and make their BOWs stronger and more resilient. I never had a say in any of it." Her bottom lip quivered, and Leon's heart broke. "I will NOT be used to hurt people!"

It was a declaration, absolutely no room for argument, not that he would.

"That's why I have to destroy everything that came from me. I can't leave anything from me behind for them to use. The serum was the last of it."

Leon understood all too well, but he found himself shaking his head. "If they need your DNA, then you'd have to destroy yourself, too."

She stopped and met his gaze directly, and the look on her face made his blood run cold. The knot in his stomach snapped. Suddenly, everything from the past few hours made perfect sense, every mystery surrounding her solved.

She already knew. She planned on it. The determination burned deep in her eyes, unflinching. There were no more walls.

It was why she constantly rejected his help, why she showed no interest in leaving. Because she did not ever plan on leaving. She did not want to help turn in Dr. Elliott because this was her revenge, to destroy all his work along with his favorite test subject.

He was willing to bet it was also why she told him about her past, her family, her life. She wanted someone to know the truth, about who she was and what she went through. And what ultimately happened to her.

She was going to martyr herself, and no one but him would know.

No. Like hell would he let that happen. Leon was not ready to give up on her yet. Not now when he finally knew the stakes.

But all he could muster was a single, disappointed, "Taliah."

"What do you care?" she spat, the fraction of the fire in her eyes directed at him. It rolled off her in waves.

Leon frowned, nearly a scowl. He did not understand how she could ask such a thing. How could she still be questioning him after all that? "Of course, I care. If nothing else, it's my mission to get you out of here, and I intend to see it through."

"What?" she questioned, eye narrowing and head tilting. Her face changed in the blink of an eye. The fire suddenly froze over.

Leon jolted, suddenly realizing his mistake. All he could do was sigh. That proved to be enough of an admission for her.

"Oh my god," she whispered slowly, her eyes going wide. She took a noticeable step away from him.

He nearly reached out to stop her. "Taliah, listen—"

Her hands were in her hair, eyes no longer on him, but drifting away. "Oh my god, I'm so stupid!"

He wanted so badly to grab her, hold on and not let go until they were both out of this place. And maybe not even then. "Listen to me—"

"Why the hell should I?" she threw back at him, her voice shaking with a humorless laugh. She began to pace again, back and forth like an agitated lion at the circus. "You weren't sent here about the mall, were you?"

His shoulders fell in defeat. "No."

Her expression hardened. "You were sent here for me." That was not a question. "To kill me?" That barely was.

Leon opened his mouth, ready to explain himself, but the horrible truth was that, yes, his initial orders involved potentially killing her. But that was before realizing she was the victim, before getting to know her, before everything. But when he finally found his voice, all that came out was, "My orders changed."

"Let me guess," her words were both razor sharp and trembling around the edges. "Now the government wants to take me alive." She did not let him answer, not that anything he said could rescue him. "So, this whole time you've just been manipulating me?"

The accusation sat heavy on him, made all the worse knowing it was true. "You're one to talk."

She flinched, the dumbstruck look on her face making him queasy. He did not mean to say it, but he could not take it back now. Her mouth, which had been hanging open slightly, snapped shup. Chin up, she stood her ground.

“All that crap about wanting to protect me,” she shook her head sharply, “to help me, and you were just being a good agent following orders.”

“It was all true.”

“Bullshit!” she spat, her voice on the verge of breaking. “Your intentions might have been honorable, but I promise you, your agency’s isn’t.” She took another step away from him. “My apologies to the DSO, but after five years of being someone else’s lab rat, I have absolutely no intention of going from one cage to another. I’d rather die.”

Now it was Leon who shook his head, matching her retreat with a step forward. “They only want the information you have on Dr. Elliott and his research in order to catch him.”

“I am his research,” she countered, but did not move. He could see her emotions warring on her face, the pendulum swinging wildly out of control.

“My agency has measures set in place to protect people like you.” He took a step closer, in front of her again. If she would just listen... “They can protect you. We can protect you.”

A beat passed in silence, Taliah gazing so deeply into his eyes that he felt the pull in his stomach to close the minimal distance between them. Hero Complex be damned, all she had to do was say the word and he would be her hero.

“Do you really believe that?” she asked, her voice so weak in comparison to the previous venom.

He wanted to touch her, a hand on the shoulder or something, to try and help ground her, connect with her in the way he had been continually desperate to but never able. “Yes, I do.”

Her exhale was heavy, her lips in a straight line. “Then you’re either stupid or an asshole.” She sounded defeated, like there was no middle ground to find, despite her being unwilling to even look. “Did you know there’s a Missing Person’s case open on me? I saw it in my files; my landlord reported it. Umbrella didn’t even cover it up. They didn’t need to.” Her smile was painfully sad, eyes devoid of life. “No one cares. The government doesn’t care.”

Leon’s jaw ached from clenching, tension running all the way down his arms, fists balled so tightly that his nails dug into the leather padding of his fingerless gloves.

“I know.” It burst out of him, the last trickling leak before the dam broke. “I know. The US government has made a lot of mistakes. The men in power only care about themselves, even willing to kill thousands of innocent people in order to cover up those mistakes.” Raccoon City, Tall Oaks. How many others fell without ever making the news, that never even made it onto a company memo? How many more would there be before this nightmare was over and the war was won? “Adam wanted to come clean about the government’s involvement in all of this, and he was killed because of it.” Was it even a sacrifice? Was anything gained from such a loss? “If I’ve learned anything about bioterrorism is that trying to silence it only makes louder.”

Something in her eyes was softer than before, but he missed the shift. “Then why...” her brows knit together, head tilting, “the hell... do you do this?” Her tone was bewildered, befuddled, and she looked at him like it was the first time seeing him. “Why work for them? Why obey orders that you don’t agree with?”

Questions that Leon asked himself at every debriefing, the hollowness from lack of answers followed him into every bar, in every bottle, slept next to him in his cold, empty bed.

“Because...” He looked into her hazel eyes, red from fatigue and impending tears. He knew why. He had never formed the words, but he knew. It was why he battled the hangovers, why he answered the calls that came in the middle of the night. Why he was standing in an illegal facility arguing with a girl with one foot off the ledge.

“Because, unfortunately, this is the best position to do any kind of real good,” he said, his convictions ringing through his voice. “I’ve seen just how far vigilantes make it in this war, and it’s nowhere near as far as you’d think. At least in the DSO I can make some difference.”

Taliah’s brows lifted, lips parting. She looked as though a revelation had taken her, some mystery solved. “Oh my god,” she said again, nearly a whisper, and Leon suddenly dreaded whatever truth she had uncovered. “Here I was thinking you were just some jock with a Hero Complex.” She shook her head. “But it’s so much worse.”

For a second, he thought the look on her face was of pity.

“You are a genuinely good person, aren’t you?” The question struck him speechless. She scanned his face, the ghost of a sad smile haunting her lips. “I didn’t think there were any of those left.”

And then she did something that Leon never expected. She lifted a hand and gently brushed away a wisp of hair that had fallen between his eyes. Her fingers never touched his skin, but it burned all the same.

“It’s a pity you’re wasted on a world that doesn’t deserve you.”

“People are worth saving.” His urge to touch her won out, and his hands found the backs of her arms, not gripping but bracing. “Taliah, you are worth saving.”

He watched the storm clouds gather behind her eyes, tears brimming, on the verge of falling. Her bottom lip trembled; Leon could think of a way to steady it. Her hands found his chest, and it might have been his own imagination, but he swore he could feel her melt into him.

“You ruined everything,” she breathed, voice high-pitched as it broke in the middle.

Leon cracked a smirk as his thumbs lightly stroked her soft, feverish skin. “Happy to be of service.”

Her watery eyes shone and her lips twitched, and he suddenly wondered what one of her smirks would taste like. As if reading his mind, her gaze flicked down to his mouth, and Leon stopped thinking. He leaned in.

A blare of sound filled the room, the lights strobing between red and white. Taliah jumped out of his grasp before their lips met, and Leon’s brain jerked back on. She was at another computer before the first lick of regrets hit his system. What exactly he regretted was unclear, but he shoved it down with a well-trained reflex.

“What is it?” he asked, back to looking over her shoulder as she typed.

“A proximity alarm,” she answered, dread clear in her voice.

Leon’s stomach flipped, remembering that without his earpiece, Hunnigan could not have easily patched in to warn him about anyone getting too close. The bright side of readying his pistol meant that he would not be tempted to touch her again.

Taliah tapped another button. “Biohazard containment breech, near the testing wing,” she clarified, looking at him over her shoulder. Concern, a fragment of trust dangling precariously between them.

“Stay close,” he ordered, and she nodded without hesitation.

The alarms continued into the corridor, whooping and beeping as the lights dimmed and brightened in rhythm. It echoed through the smooth, empty hallways as they rushed through.

“Right up here, then straight.”

Leon no longer cared about questioning her succinct knowledge of the facility. He took the lead, gun out and sweeping every new environment, following her directions until they came up on a closed electric door, a small round porthole window giving any hint to what was on the other side. Only then did he let Taliah move forward around him as she punched a code into the dial on the wall and hit the button. The door slid open smoothly, Leon already taking in all stimuli available.

Clear.

He rushed forward, eyes darting at the upcoming possibilities in their path. “Which way?” he asked, scanning his corners where the corridor split off in different directions.

There was no response, only the alarm answered him.

Leon spun around to see Taliah still standing at the door’s control panel. Their gazes locked, his puzzled and hers resolute, and then she hit the button. The door slid closed between them.

“Taliah!” he shouted, running back to the door. Through the porthole, he saw her arm drop limply to her side, eyes to the floor, mouth turned down. There was another control panel on his side, but he did not know the code, had been too distracted to see what she put in. “What are you doing? Open the door.”

She looked up at him then. The mask had slipped back on when he was not looking, and someone other than the real Taliah spoke.

“Keep going straight until you hit the labs. Then go left. There should be an emergency exit down that way. I don’t know where it lets out, but it’ll be unlocked.” Her voice was flat, perfunctory.

“Don’t be ridiculous, open the door.” His pulse was quickening, tendrils of panic slithering into his system. “We’ll leave together.” He was not ready to give up, he would not give up on her.

She shook her head once. “We can’t both leave here alive.”

“Bullshit!” he threw back at her, frustration mixing with hopelessness in his gut.

“This isn’t your fight. It never was.”

“But that doesn’t mean you need to fight it alone.”

The sad smile finally twisted her lips, and though the mask was alien, those eyes were true. “The world needs you a lot more than it needs me.”

His fist slammed against the door, but neither the thick metal nor the girl on the other side flinched. “Dammit, Taliah! Don’t do this!”

“I’m sorry, Leon.” And then she turned.

No matter how loud he called after her or how hard he beat the door, she did not look back.

Suddenly, the wall next to her broke open in a cloud of rubble. She screamed as an impossibly large, clawed hand wrapped around her entire body. The lumbering mass of a creature lifted her off the ground with ease and yanked her through the hole and out of sight.

Chapter Text

No amount of human force would open the door, and Leon knew there was no point in wasting time—after the third attempt. Instead, he sucked down a breath to settle his nerves for a brief second, and then he took several steps back. Gun raised, he aimed for the control panel.

He pulled the trigger and prayed at the same time.

The control panel exploded in a burst of sparks, followed by the crunching grinding of confused mechanisms. The door lurched open a foot or two, but that was all he needed to squeeze himself through.

Rubble was still settling on the once-polished floor, the crater in the wall clearly made from something smashing through the other side. Something powerful and determined.

Taliah had said this place was abandoned. They left vials behind. Did something worse get left behind, too? Much, much worse.

Because Leon knew a fucking Tyrant when he saw one. Even if it was just the arm.

The sounds of another impact sent him through the hole and into an unfamiliar room. There was a matching hole on the other side, sounds of Taliah’s distress coming from the other side. Leon sprinted for it, finger ready on the trigger.

“—ut me down!”

The Tyrant was twice the size of a normal human, its torso three times as wide. Both massive, muscular arms ended in hands the width of its own body, each finger extended into a jagged claw that touched the floor. Its body was covered in overlapping bony plates that crept up the thick neck and over the bald skull.

Taliah struggled in its grip, her face pinched with frustration.

“Hey!” Leon fired two shots in the Tyrant’s shoulder. The creature whipped around to face him, the humanoid expression twisting with anger, a deep thundering growl coming from its broad, grotesque chest.

“No, wait!”

Even as the creature shifted toward him, it kept the arm holding Taliah away, back behind itself. Like a twisted game of Keep Away.

Leon was not in the mood for games. Another shot hit the side of its head, hitting a bony plate and pinging away, but the force was enough to jolt its head. The creature roared as it stumbled.

“Leon, stop!”

The clawed hand opened, the hulking creature trying to regain balance, and Taliah fell to the floor in a heap.

With her no longer directly in harm’s way, Leon opened fire again on the vast target, looking for a weak spot in the seemingly impenetrable mass. The Tyrant roared again, swiping a claw at the whizzing bullets, barreling toward him.

“No!”

Before he could evade, claws wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides and lifting him off his feet. He grit his teeth as the pressure tightened. The Tyrant’s face loomed feet from his, the once-human eyes narrowed and glaring at him. Hot breath stung his eyes as he struggled to breathe, the grip leaving no room. His bones protested, the strain shooting through his nervous system. Blood pounded in his ears.

“Caleb, don’t!”

Taliah was there at the monster’s side, hands out, pleading. The creature paused, and somehow its features softened, hesitation clear in its blood red eyes. It snorted in Leon’s face, then ducked its chin, almost sheepishly, looking down at Taliah.

“Put him down.” Her voice shook, but her tone was even, coaxing. She delicately waved a hand, ushering. Her eyes were wide and bright and completely betrayed her.

Spots began to form in Leon’s vision as the creature hesitated, but a moment later, his feet touched solid ground. The pressure around him slipped away, and he coughed involuntarily as the air rushed back into his lungs. Taliah rushed into the space between him and the monster, but Leon was not sure which one of them she was protecting.

Even as he sputtered and gulped down air, feeling around for any potential broken bones, he kept his gaze locked on the girl and Tyrant, a heat rising in his throat.

Of course, he had only assumed that Caleb was dead, between Taliah’s mood reversal upon mentioning his fate and Hunnigan’s report. But now he understood.

“Are you okay?” Taliah voice shook with worry.

Leon blinked, getting back to his feet. The question was not directed at him. The monster that was now Caleb snorted, red eyes not flinching away from Leon.

Death would have been kinder. But then, death would not have been a punishment.

Taliah looked over her shoulder, and the moment her gaze met his, and he clearly saw the guilt and pain and remorse painted across her face, he understood completely.

She had never seduced and manipulated Caleb. Whatever had happened between them, it was real to her. But just like keeping the story of her childhood separate from her reality in order to cope, Taliah had also twisted the tale of her and Caleb’s relationship in order to make herself the villain.

Because it was easier than accepting that someone she cared about got hurt because of her. And the only way to punish someone who could survive torture was to torture someone she cared about.

Leon’s chest ached, a deep tightening sensation that had nothing to do with nearly being crushed. Had she loved him? Did she still?

He focused back on her face, her eyes searching his. A question was written into the lines of her face. He looked back at her, pushing out a slow breath and lowering his gun to his side. That was his answer.

A flicker of relief flashed behind her eyes, and she turned back to Caleb.

“Caleb, listen to me.” Her voice was clipped and rushed, her hands still out in front of her. Red eyes flashed from her to Leon and then back before she continued. “Did Eric send you to come get me?”

A low rumble sounded from within the mutated man, like a storm rolling in. But he lowered his gaze and inclined his head. Yes.

But Taliah was not done. “Is he on his way here?” There was a sliver of fear in her voice, different from the worry of before.

Another nod.

“Then we need to get moving,” Leon said sharply, taking a step closer. Despite understanding the unfortunate situation, he was instinctively unsettled by standing useless in the same room as a Tyrant.

Caleb’s gaze snapped back to him, and he snarled and flinched forward. Taliah put a hand up to stop him, to steal back his attention, but her other hand extended facing Leon. Like a lion tamer caught in a standoff.

“Listen! Are you the only thing he sent here?”

The question puzzled Leon, but when Caleb’s massive head swung from side to side, dread settled in his stomach. “What else?”

His answer came from the sound of metal scraping from somewhere in the facility, the echoes reaching them already distorted. Whatever it was, it was already here.

Caleb shifted toward Taliah. He raised an enormous hand and wiggled his clawed fingers, the gesture looking ridiculous due to his mutation.

Taliah understood what it meant, however. “Oh, great.” Judging by her tone, Leon seriously doubted it. “Skitters.” Caleb’s huff must have been confirmation, because then her eyes found Leon, the worry redirected toward him. “You need to get out of here. Those things are venomous.”

Not happening, Leon thought, as he popped out the magazine in his gun to count the remaining bullets. Twelve, and one chambered. Plus two full mags on his belt. He liked those odds. “So much for him wanting you back alive.”

“What do you mean?” She took a step closer to him, but so did Caleb, effortlessly staying on her heels.

Leon grimaced inwardly, remembering that he had not had the chance to tell her the entire truth. There may never been a good time for bad news. “My agency intercepted a message from Dr. Elliott about your escape that stated he wanted you capture alive.” He did not need to remind her that the DSO was ready to forgo that condition if the situation turned hostile.

Well, the situation certainly took a turn.

Taliah frowned, eyes drifting in a way that Leon knew she was slipping into thought. When she emerged from her mind, it was with a shake of her head. “He didn’t send those things for me. He either knows about you, or he knows about the intruder.”

Leon opened his mouth, but the sounds echoing through the hallways stopped his voice in his throat. It could only be described as the sound of dozens of little points tapping arrhythmically against the laminate floors. Not unlike the rapid clicking of a keyboard. Except this was less comforting to him, less familiar. And it was getting closer.

Leon pivoted on his back foot, facing the hole in the wall he had come through. It looked to be the only direct way in. He raised his gun, ready.

“Hey!”

He glanced over to see Caleb reaching out and scooping Taliah back into his clawed hand, but this time, he pushed her behind him large frame.

Good, Leon thought, though it made his chest throb again. But then Caleb marched forward to stand next to him. The sentient BOW looked down at him expectantly. He snorted and jerked his head into a nod. Leon nodded back, once.

It was like a bad punchline to a worse joke. The anti-bioterror agent and the bioweapon, teaming up. He almost laughed. Maybe one day, he would.

Chapter Text

Ada knew there had to be a catch.

Things were going too well. She made the abhorrent mistake of letting her guard down a fraction, and that was precisely when her good luck changed.

She had pocketed the serum and was just about to call in to confirm her objective was complete when a tantalizing thought occurred to her. If the serum had been sent to this location as a failsafe, what if some of the research data had been backed up here as well? She could download it and bundle it with the physical product.

Sell two for the price of two.

The control room was not far, having already come from there, and she was technically ahead of schedule. What would be the harm in helping herself to a look?

The harm presented itself when she returned to the hallway and heard a sound that definitely was not there before. There was no point investigating, she could guess what it was by the screeching.

The elevator, the one that connected this facility to Elliott's first but forgotten darling. The entrance she decided against taking. She assumed reverting power would affect the lift, but she supposed it operated in a gray area middle zone, always having power.

And it was coming down. Damn.

It was her own fault for getting greedy. She should have just left. The way she came in was past the elevator, and she did not know how close it was to arriving. She needed a Plan B.

The surveillance room was at the other end of the wing, but at least in the opposite direction. And it had the added defense of giving her a heads up if someone was headed her way.

Every door had a code lock, but since she reverted the power to full, it deactivated the security measures, so they all slid open for her as she traversed the hallways.

The surveillance room was simple and straightforward. The workers who jumped ship must have only grabbed necessities before leaving, because most of the electronics were still intact and ready for use. The wall of gridded screens stood dark, but a high humming told her that they were still working. A few taps at the computer, and most of the dozen screens flickered to life.

A flash of movement immediately captured her attention, something slipping out of frame too quickly to catch. Her eyes scanned the other screens, searching for where the thing had moved to, but they were not in any logical order, and several of the cameras were out. There was a single camera pointed at the elevator, which already stood open and empty, telling her she had only just been quick enough. Interestingly, the camera was labeled as Exit 3.

And here Ada thought there were only two. Perhaps the previously unknown way out would prove useful.

Another flash out of the corner of her eye pulled her focus back. There were too many screens covering too much space for her to see everything all at once, and so she had to scan back and forth. Multiple hallways she had just come through were empty, so whoever it was, they were not headed straight for her at least.

And then a figure finally appeared, rushing into the first room Ada had gone to and the one she had wanted to visit again, the control room. She felt a smile slip onto her lips as she studied the screen.

“Clever girl.”

Though she had not seen the girl in three years, Ada recognized Taliah immediately. Of course she would come back here, after the destruction she caused at B Site. She had some unfinished business to attend to.

Unfinished business which just so happened to be tucked away in Ada’s pocket. She almost felt bad about taking it, knowing exactly what it meant to the poor girl.

Almost.

But then that “poor girl” hit the panic button, and the entire facility slammed into lockdown. Any open doors sealed closed, locks engaging. The lights turned red, though the monitors remained on.

“That’s not fair.”

What were the chances that Taliah would let her go a second time? What was it going to cost her?

Ada was weighing her options, the tip of her thumb nail gliding rhythmically along her bottom lip, when suddenly her entire body locked in place.

A second person walked into frame, and though the lighting was low and his back was to the camera, she could still recognize him. Easily.

“Leon.”

Either Taliah had a wider social circle than Ada would have guessed, or the US government was also privy to Elliott’s screw up. The data breech must have been chum in the water to anyone looking in the right direction.

“Well, now this is interesting.” Perching on the edge of the desk beneath the screens, she watched them.

Voyeurism was not quite her thing, but the temptation was too much, especially when the silent argument broke out. She observed their interaction like a civilian might leer at gorillas in the zoo. She knew Leon, knew him better than almost anyone else still alive who knew her. Every move he made was familiar, and even though there was no sound to go with the visuals, she somehow knew exactly what he was doing.

He was trying to convince her to leave with him. Because of course he was. Some things never changed.

Ada did not know what that feeling in the pit of her stomach was when he grabbed Taliah, pulled her close, and she did not resist. Her hands were on his chest, and Ada knew what that felt like.

But then one of her hands slipped away, falling to her side. The picture was too pixilated, but Ada swore she saw something in her hand, something small. A button?

A second later, an alarm began blaring. She could hear it through the walls. But there was nothing on any of the other cameras. Whatever was in her hand, Taliah must have used it to trigger the alarm. Not a bad trick, and she knew personally how it felt to try and break free from Leon Kennedy’s mental and physical hold.

“Poor guy,” she hummed to herself, shaking her head with a soft smile. “Never has any luck.”

Off they went, and Ada managed to keep an eye out for whenever they crossed in front of a working camera. She watched with a tilted head, wondering what Taliah’s plan was, if the alert had been fabricated. They stopped at a lock door; Ada was not at all surprised that Taliah remembered the codes.

It was at that moment that she spied the movement coming from another camera. Something large, moving fast. She had not caught what it was, but there was not much time to sit and wonder.

The shockwaves of the thing crashing through the damn wall rippled beneath her feet, hearing the destruction a second before the black and white image showed the event on the screen.

There was something ironic about the whole thing, Ada thought as she watched Taliah disappear within the Tyrant’s grip.

Leon followed seconds later, and Ada had to once again scan the monitors to try and find them.

Examination Room B.

The display showed the interaction, but Ada had a hard time believing what she was seeing. The Tyrant was protecting Taliah. From Leon. That is, until Taliah had the sense to intervene.

The monster obeyed. Ada snorted. Was there anyone not charmed by this girl?

Movement on another screen stole her attention, and she saw that the elevator door had been previously closed but was now opening again. A dozen or so creatures scurried out of the car, dashing off down the hallways, heading straight for the bizarre trio.

Ada remembered the research from years ago, when she needed to learn as much about the facility as she could. And those things definitely stood out in her memory.

Skitters, so named for the horrifying way they moved around. Like giant mutated bedbugs. About the size of a small dog, adorned with six spindly legs coming out of the top of an armored exoskeleton. The tiny gross bug head comes equipped with a barbed tongue. Or maybe it was considered a proboscis. Either way, it was worth avoiding.

They were one of the first experiments using Taliah's DNA to try to enhance BOWs. The experiment was by no means a failure, considering those things were still kicking around. But they also did not have the desired results. They were technically virus carriers, and though Taliah's DNA gave the creatures a longevity that could give cockroaches a run for their money, it also had the surprising side effect of degrading the virus within their venom.

Anyone affected by a skitter bite would inevitably die from the venom, but they would never turn from the virus.

Ada heard the gunshots half a second before the feed displayed Leon opening fire on the bugs. They were small and quick and harder to kill than they looked, and what he lacked, the hulking Tyrant made up for in sheer forcing. One bug was crushed instantly beneath the giant fist, another easily swiped off.

Keeping the skitters at bay was not exactly what was happening. The swarm had been forced into the choke point, but with every one that fell, another got through into the room.

Leon had to cease fire and dive to the side as one shot its tongue out at him, the barbed point dripping with venom even in low definition. It leapt toward him, and he kicked it away, already firing at the exposed underside as it flew through the air. Its corpse landed and skid across the floor. He was just getting to his feet when another attacked, but the Tyrant reached out and swatted it away, but took a slash from the tongue as it did.

The thankful nod Leon gave the Tyrant was almost cute, characteristically sweet. He took a moment to reload, glancing back over his shoulder and saying something unheard.

Ada frowned. Where was Taliah? Her eyes scanned the screen, not seeing the girl. But when she looked at the next screen over, she saw that there was another camera with another angle of the room.

Taliah was, unsurprisingly, at another computer. This one was smaller, connected to an array of devices in front of her, which included several large attachments, scanners and lasers and x-ray equipment on robot arms surrounding a comparatively simple examination table. Even through the screen, the devices twitched to life.

For someone with a college degree in tree hugging, the girl knew her way around technology, Ada thought, though a smirk began to form. She could see where things were going, despite admitting she never would have thought of it herself.

The satellite-looking disk of a surgical laser juddered, swinging from side to side, up and down, while Taliah maneuvered the control stick, getting a feel for it. With a decisive yank, the laser adjusted, pointing directly for the hole that the skitters were scrambling over each other to get through.

Ada watched in silent appreciation as the laser charged, glowing what was likely red, though the feed was black and white. She had never gotten to see Taliah in action, and it was honestly impressive. She also did not agree with innocent people being held prisoner, but she understood the tight grip they kept on her until now.

Taliah shouted something, likely “Duck!” or “Move!” Then the laser shot out a thin beam, which—glancing back to the adjacent screen—bore a hole directly through three of the bugs. All three fell away from the opening, their carcasses clearly smoking.

The downside was that it now left a large gap in the opening, which several more scurried through. Taliah readied the laser again, but one of the bugs managed to get past both of her bodyguards and lunged for her.

Ada absently wondered if the bugs somehow knew they were basically attacking their mother. If they did, it sure seemed like they did not care.

Taliah ducked out of the way, looking more annoyed than fearful. The lumbering meat man whipped around faster than physics should allow, doubling back to protect her. But without his mass, Leon was left exposed to the last of the barrage.

Tongues whipped at him, forcing him to remain in a dodging retreat, not able to take a second to aim and shoot at any of his attackers. But then the Tyrant appeared at his side again, this time clutching the entire examination table like a paddle. It looked weaker, slower, pained.

As it swung the table, one of the bugs leapt onto its back, viciously biting into the Tyrant's neck. The Tyrant flailed, both from the pain and the attempt to grab the bug, but in doing so knocked into Leon, who dropped his gun as he fell sideways. He rolled back up, but now there was a bug between him and his weapon.

Ada was thankful to be in the room by herself, so no one saw her brief moment of panic. Worry did not suit her, but Leon always had a way of bringing out the worst in her. She felt her hand settle on the butt of her own gun, hypotheticals running through her mind. The doors between them were locked, and the EMF Visualizer would take time to hack even one, but if she had to...

But then Taliah was there, running in and scooping up the gun.

Ada's hand relaxed back to her side, a grin covering the concern. “How sw—” But the words died in her mouth.

Instead of tossing the gun back like she expected the girl to do, Taliah took aim and fired twice, both bullets hitting, the bug collapsing. Not a crack shot, but not bad. She just needed a bit of training...

The girl spun and shot the bug on her meat wall's back, giving it the opportunity to grab it and crush it within the massive claws. Ada imagined it made a sickening squish sound. Only one left alive, and she made quick work of it before it could attack. And then everything fell still.

“Hate to tell you this, Leon,” she muttered to the screen, a single shake to her head. “But she might be out of your league.”

Leon looked as though he was recovering from his shock, looking from the dead bugs to the girl who killed them, brows raised. He looked like he was about to say something to her, lips parting and weight shifting forward, but he stopped.

Even with her back to the camera, Ada could see that Taliah’s focus was not on Leon. She was focused only on the Tyrant, which collapsed in a heap. Blood and venom poured from the large gash in its neck, the vast torso heaved. That thing was toast.

Taliah walked up to it, standing in front of the thing, and it looked up at her with a strange look. Love? It tried to reach out to her, but the effort was too much, and it instead slumped against its mutated mass. Taliah leaned in, tilting her head down to rest her forehead against its own. The two stayed like that for a handful of seconds before the girl straightened and took a step back.

She steadily lifted Leon’s gun, placing the barrel against the Tyrant’s forehead.

Maybe it was the video quality, but Ada swore the monster looked relieved.

She heard the shot echoing through the facility first. Then the video showed the creature sag lifelessly, Taliah standing frozen in front of it. But after a few, still moments, the girl raised her arm, clutching the gun by the barrel and holding it out.

It was only then that Leon stepped forward. After he took the gun, checked it, and holstered it, he just stood there, next to her.

Ada wondered if anything was being said; she could not see their faces. Something must have been exchanged between them, because Taliah looked up at him, and his hovering hand finally made it to her arm.

In the corner of the room, one of the bugs twitched, spasmed, and then lifted its head.

“Look out!” Ada yelled at the screen, knowing as her voice left her that it was meaningless.

But Leon saw what Taliah did not. The tongue whipped straight for her, and his arms were around her in a second, pulling her out of the way. The barbed tongue stuck him in the ribs, slashing away shirt and leaving him bloody. The bug died a moment later.

But that was enough.

“No...”

Ada was out the door before Leon’s body hit the floor.

Chapter Text

“You—”

Taliah could not move, her body frozen in place, mind refusing to catch up with reality. The ringing was still in her ears, a sob still caught in her chest.

“—absolute—”

Leon staggard, swayed, then dropped to his knees.

“—idiot!”

“It was...” His voice was breathy, labored. His hand clutched tightly to his side, discolored blood seeping between his fingers. “...going to hit you.”

“I would have been fine!” Tears were still in her throat, and they welled up fresh, choking her.

“I'm okay,” he wheezed, making a valiant effort to get to his feet, though weak and visibly shaking.

Taliah shook her head. To everyone but her, skitter venom was lethal. The wound was not very deep, but it did not need to be. There had never been an anti-venom created.

He was going to die. He was going to die saving her from something that would have only been a temporary inconvenience.

As soon as he got his legs beneath him, they gave out again, but Taliah grabbed him around the middle, doing her best to hold him up.

“I'm okay,” he repeated, but she could barely hear him.

He was going to die.

“No you're not,” she stated, already looking around.

The door on the far wall led into the adjoined examination room, she knew, and that one had a medical bay.

It took all of her strength, but she half supported and half dragged Leon over to the door. She punched in the code, the same as all the others: her birthday. Oh, the irony.

Examination Room A looked nearly identical to its twin, but missing the death and destruction. The door to the med bay closed, but slid open when they approached.

The familiar scent of sterile, hermetically sealed air wafted out, and Taliah was hit with too many sensory memories. The medical bed, which was honestly more of a table, sat in the far right corner. She hurried Leon over to it and practically dropped him onto it. The sensors beneath him were already whirring to life, reading his biometrics. They could not have been good.

His eyes were shut tightly, grimacing with pain. A layer of sweat had broken out across his skin, and his chest heaved. She knew the level of pain he was in all too well.

“Hang on,” she commanded. He was not going to die. Not for her. She already had too much blood on her hands.

She marched back to the door, to the control panel beside it. She hit the button to close the door. The hand scanner below it beeped and glowed, ready and expecting.

Without hesitation, she placed her hand on it. After a flash and a beeping, the door closed, sealing them in and sealing their fate. They were either both coming out alive, or neither was coming out ever.

A loud tone sounded in the small room. “Biohazard detected,” the mechanical voice declared, void of humanity or compassion for those trapped inside.

“Yes, thank you, I know,” Taliah hissed, returning to Leon. She threw herself into the chair next to the bed and wheeled it to the adjacent computer. All his readings were dropping. He would be dead within the hour. There was no point treating the wound when the real problem was coursing through his blood.

His blood...

“Stay with me, you asshole,” she said, already rummaging through the equipment; there was absolutely no time to think.

There was a dialyzer machine in the corner opposite the bed, close enough that she could reach out a foot and wheel it closer. She found the other equipment she needed in a cabinet next to her, tubes and needles and sterilizing fluid and medical tape. The computer had a program with very basic instructions, meant only to remind an expert, not to teach someone who was not a doctor.

Taliah's dread only grew, knowing that her barely formulated plan was by far her worst yet, but it was literally that or nothing. There was nothing else she could do.

Feeling sick with postponed grief roiling in her stomach, Taliah read over the instructions as she sterilized all the equipment.

“I'm sorry about this,” she said, unsure if he could even hear.

Then she blew out a breath and injected one needle in each of the dying man's arms. One connected into the dialyzer, the other attached to an empty, elevated blood bag. Both got taped in place.

Despite not having much medical knowledge outside of what had been done to her over the past five years, Taliah knew full-well that a dialyzer, while made to clean and filter out waste and toxins from the blood, was not equipped to handle skitter venom. Its system could not handle it.

But hers could. She could handle the venom.

The tube that pumped blood back out of the filter she connected to a needle and stuck it in her own arm and taped it down. She would be the filter.

She attached another tube to the top of the blood back and connected it to another needle, which she put in her other arm. She had been poked and pricked so many times, what was a few more? She had O- blood type, a universal donor. Her blood would replace his poisoned blood as she took it.

She looked back at the computer. Patient Blood Type: A.

“Well, shit. This is going to hurt me a lot more than it'll hurt you.”

But it was too late, the dialyzer was already working, pumping blood from Leon into her, her own blood flowing into the bag and down into Leon. A messed-up circuit. Taliah settled back in her chair and looked at the computer.

He was still alive, likely floating between conscious and not. The readings included blood toxicity, and that was the number she watched. But only for a moment.

A wave of nausea hit her all at once, and she nearly doubled over. Followed quickly by an immediate fever and all-over chills, and then a pain that seemed to grip her everywhere at once. Her heart rate increased as Leon's decreased, slowly slipping back toward safe.

She could not tell what was the venom in her system and what was her body trying to reject the incompatible blood type. She prayed that her immune system would choose to attack the virus-riddled venom over the unfamiliar blood cells.

“Come on,” she whispered to her own body, head down, chin to chest; she needed to keep her arms steady. “You've made us survive so much, just this one last thing.”

If there was anything left in her stomach, she would have vomited it up. Her body shook uncontrollably, but every move brought pain. It felt like she was dying, but when a small, pained sound came from Leon's throat, worry became the loudest feeling.

His eyes were squeezed shut, jaw locked and teeth gritted. At some point he had moved his head, now tilted toward her. Some of his hair that was not stuck to his forehead had fallen into his eyes.

Being careful not to jostle her injection, Taliah reached out and gently brushed the hair away, the back of her fingers wiping against his sweat-slicked skin. The fever was still worryingly high. The computer readings said it went down by half a degree, but it was not enough. His eyes moved behind his lids, the crease between his brows smoothing. His lips parted slightly. Maybe it was her imagination, but she swore she heard him try to speak.

“Want to know something?” she said softly, though stomach bile rose to burn her throat. There was an instant ice pack in a med kit next to the computer. She activated it and wrapped it in a layer of bandages. Every shift in her body made her want to scream.

“Why I laughed when you told me your name?”

She delicately wheeled her chair to be directly next to the bed and began carefully dabbing the ice pack at his forehead. Too much cold all at once would cause pain, direct contact would lead to frostbite. Her own temperature had risen to the point where she felt woozy, but she dabbed away.

“I'm sure you already know this, but the name Leon means lion.” The corners of her mouth twitched, the memory of a smile coming through. Her fingers were going numb from the cold. “Well, depending on the spelling...” She shook her head. “Taliah means lamb.”

Somehow, the faintest laugh rumbled in her aching chest.

“How poetic, that the lion was sent to kill the lamb, and the lamb ended up saving the lion.”

She put the ice pack on the desk, resting the back of her hand against his cooled skin, feeling the fever backing off. The computer said his temperature was down almost two full degrees. A small miracle.

“And then the lamb accidentally started to fall for the lion.”

It was so stupid. The man was unconscious and near death. Her body was literally battling itself, her blood toxic and no longer her own, and yet she felt a blush come to her cheeks.

“And that is the stupidest thing I've ever said out loud.”

He obviously did not answer or stir, but she noticed his heaving breaths came with less effort than before, slower.

She had yet to be able to truly grieve for Caleb, and a part of her wished there would still be enough time to do so, on her own. But she also knew she had to admit it to herself, the feelings that had begun to grow for Leon without her realizing it, without her permission.

Might as well say it while she had the chance.

The computer began beeping, and she had to scoot her chair back over to it. When sealed, the med bays were programmed with their own proximity alarm and security camera outside the door. The first was going off, and the desktop icon for the second had an alert.

Taliah's already galloping pulse somehow quickened as she clicked on the icon and a window showing the camera's feed popped up. But then, just as inexplicably, her heart seemed to stop. She expected to see a lot of things, but not her...

It had been three years since Taliah last saw Ada Wong. So many things were different, too many things were the same.

This time, the woman wore a blood red peacoat, unbuttoned with the collar turned up, over a cream woven turtleneck. Slim-fitting black pants belted at the high waist. She moved carefully through Exam. B into A with her gun trained forward. Her steps smooth, eyes focused, face giving away nothing.

Why was she here? Why now?

You know why, the last shred of sanity inside her chided. You know exactly why.

Despite everything, Taliah let her head roll back on her neck, and she laughed. The pain flared anew, nausea compelling her to stop, so instead she pressed a button on the keyboard to activate the camera's two-way comms.

“This is now the second time I've caught you snooping around where you shouldn't be,” she said, and the woman on the screen froze. Taliah watched as the woman’s gaze found the camera, her stance loosening when she looked at the closed med bay door.

“You’re still pretty popular, I see,” the woman said, her voice silky and level. She lowered her gun, but did not take her finger off the trigger.

But Taliah was not buying it for a second. She glanced over at Leon, telling herself that the sudden tightening in her chest was from anything else.

“It’s a gift,” she snorted, but a gag threatened to bring up bile. “Where were you hiding out?”

“Surveillance,” the answer came without flourish, as if it truly was that simple.

“How convenient.” Taliah knew the distance between Exam. A and Surveillance, knew the exact number of locked doors between them. The woman had to have hauled ass to get there as quickly as she did. And it certainly was not for a chat with her.

A smile grew on her face, even as her chest constricted. She came for Leon. She saw him get hit and came for him. She supposed that the forbidden romance was less one-sided than Leon seemed to think.

“Enjoy the show?” A flicker of something crossed Ada’s face, and Taliah had the answer she was looking for. She sighed, knowing that in another situation, in another life, she would enjoy teasing the woman. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. Our friend’s screwed though.”

Ada Wong straightened, finger finally moving off the trigger. Her gorgeous features morphed with concern, an intentional mask of worry that Taliah assumed was to divert attention from the woman’s genuine feelings.

“Is there nothing that can help?” She almost sounded human for once.

Taliah sneered. “Oh, there is something that would have helped.” She waited a beat, diligently watching the woman’s face. “My fucking serum.” She let the stomach acid in her throat coat her words. “One shot, and he would have been fine within an hour.”

Whatever emotions that might have been real were wiped away in an instant, and the neutral expression was back. The woman remained silent.

Despite all of the anger and frustration and grief and physical pain vying for control over her system, there was very little fight left in Taliah. She sighed. “It’s too late for that now.”

A hint of worry shone through the woman’s dark eyes. Maybe she had a heart after all, and if anyone was capable of winning it, Taliah believed that Leon was.

“These med bays are state of the art,” she explained with eyes closed, letting her head hang as another wave of vertigo stole over her. “They’re sealed via a biometrics scanner, and the person who seals it is the only one who can open it again. On top of that, they have these nifty little biohazard sensors built in, and if any are detected, a security override engages. Meaning the door won’t open no matter what until no contamination is detected. And let me just check...”

She cracked one eye open, hitting a button.

“Biohazard detected.”

“Yep.” She clicked back over to check on Leon’s readings. His fever was coming down another degree, pulse a handful of BPM slower. His blood toxicity had decreased, so something about the Frankenstein treatment was working, but was it working fast enough? Plus now there were traces of viruses in both of them.

“How do you know all this?” Ada asked, lips pursed and head tilted. The gun was out of sight, her arms crossed in front of her.

Taliah closed her eyes again. “I spent a lot of time in them.”

A moment passed, before Ada asked, “So, if the override is engaged, how will you...?”

She trailed off, but Taliah knew what the rest of the question was.

“I’m... improvising.” It was a gross understatement, spoken as if an innocent life was not at stake.

“What exactly are you doing?” The lilt of criticism was not lost on her.

“My best!” Taliah snapped, not meaning to, but the unending torture that her body was reluctantly enduring was getting to her. She groaned and rubbed the heel of her hand into an irritated eye. “Think of a dialysis treatment, except I’m the kidney.” It sounded so stupid out loud, but fortunately she did not have to explain her condition to Ada.

The woman’s face screwed up—rightfully so—with dubiousness. “Will that work?”

An exhausted, humorless laugh escaped Taliah. “No clue. But thanks to the failsafe, I’m dead if it doesn’t.” Her gaze found Leon’s face through the haze of pain and dizziness. The readings on the computer were the only proof that he was even still alive.

We’re both dead if it doesn’t, she thought.

“I didn’t have any other option.” The anger was bubbling to the surface again. “But hey, thanks for manning the cameras. We definitely didn’t need help back there.”

The woman gave a half sneer, eyes narrowing up at the camera. “You know I’m not much of a team player.”

The grin that spread across Taliah’s face was in no way a happy one. “Is that why you ran all the way here to check on your boyfriend?”

Ada snorted and looked away, weight shifting from one foot to another. Taliah saw right through her act, but the fact that the woman new that Leon was in critical condition and yet still tried to pretend she did not care disgusted Taliah. At least she had briefly had the balls to admit her feelings. Not that it meant anything now.

“You locked down the facility, remembered?” Ada threw back, swiping a hand through the air. “Including my escape route. I figured that you would know some secret third way out.”

“Nice excuse, Juliet,” Taliah mocked. “But I don’t recommend trying to con a con artist. It didn’t work well for you last time, either.” History had such a funny way of repeating itself. “But since you mentioned it, fair warning, Eric’s on his way.”

If he was not there already. The only upside to potentially being locked in the med bay forever. But it got Ada’s attention.

“I got you out the first time. Your turn to do the heavy lifting. You want to pretend you’re not worried about your lover boy, fine. That’s your prerogative, justify it however you want. But at least be useful and start clearing a path through the labs. In case he lives.”

Ada opened her mouth as if to respond, but closed it again a moment later. She looked to the med bay door, and then solemnly shook her head. “Good luck, you two,” was all she said before walking away.

Even through the churning, bubbly nausea, Taliah felt a weight settle in her stomach like lead. She looked over at Leon, and an ounce of the pressure lifted.

“Your girl’s here,” she whispered to him, tone lighter and softer. “She’s worried about you.” About that, Taliah had no doubts. “So that means you have to get better.”

Both a standard dialysis treatment and a blood transfusion lasted several hours, assuming neither died before then. Now was as good a time as any to try and banish the Devil from the details.

Taliah pulled the First Aid kit back out and pulled out what she needed to tend to the wound in Leon’s side. The bleeding had stopped, and the fact that he was unconscious made cleaning and bandaging the cut that much easier. She stole the occasional glance at his face as she worked.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded weak, but she needed to say it. She just should have said it long before now. “I’m sorry you got caught up in my mess. I’m sorry for letting it get this far. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened, and—” Her voice caught, and she had to clear her throat before she went on. “And for everything that I still have to do.”

She rested a hand over his, and though his skin was clammy, the flush was beginning to recede.

“You were never going to save me, and I’m sorry for that, too. I appreciate the effort, no matter how dumb that sounds. I wish you knew how badly I wanted to believe you. I wish someone had cared half as much as you did long before now.”

She removed her hand, the burning back in her cheeks, only making her feel worse. What right did she have to try and provide comfort, when it was solely her fault that he was there to begin with?

“Survive this, and I promise I will get you out of here.”

As she leaned back in her chair, the tears began to fall. All the grief was beginning to spill over, and she was powerless to stop it. Tears poured silently down her face as she watched the numbers on the screen fluctuate, never committing to any reading. She cried for every single person who died because of her, for the lives ruined just because she existed. She cried for the life she was never allowed to have, for all the time she wasted never really living, for all the stupid mistakes that she did not know to regret until it was too late.

She sighed, closed her eyes, and endured.

The sound of a mechanism unlatching startled her out of her daze, and she reflexively reached for the button on the computer.

“No biohazard detected.”

Taliah had no idea how much time had passed, but she rubbed her eyes and looked at the computer, then at Leon. The pained lines of his face had smoothed, chest rising and falling steadily. He looked as if he was only sleeping.

Because he was.

Relief came in the form of emptiness, numbness inside of her, a silent void that was no longer filled with the screaming of pain and cellular warfare. Her body was quiet again, malnourished and beat to shit, but quiet.

She carefully set about the task of turning off machinery, removing needles, and bandaging injection sites. Leon needed to rest, regain his strength. He was going to feel like death warmed over when he woke up, but there was nothing she could do for that.

He held up his end of the bargain—he survived—and now it was her turn to hold up hers.

It took a moment of searching through the desk drawers, but eventually a pen and a scrap piece of paper could be found. It took too much effort to scribble down what she wanted to say, her system demanding its own rest.

Soon, she thought. We’re almost done.

She placed the scrap of paper under his hand for him to find when he woke up. If everything went according to plan, this would be the last time she saw him. As much as it hurt, she did not look back as she unsealed the med bay and left.

Back in the desolate corridor, Taliah turned and headed straight back to Viral Storage. She still had a mission to see through. Except now there was an extra step.

Chapter Text

The main lab was impressive. Easily the largest room Ada had come across in the facility. There were clusters of desks around the perimeter of the room, most still cluttered with papers, beakers, microscopes, and various equipment. Computers, test tubes, even specimen cases were left behind. The centerpiece of the room was a large stasis tank, standing upright and empty, glowing from within.

But it was hard to appreciate when it was an absolute pain in the ass to get to.

Every locked door took time to hack and unlock, she might have had a better time digging her way out. The worst part was how little thought was involved, and Ada would rather have something else to focus her attention on, instead of counting the seconds and wondering what was happening back in the med bay. It was enough to drive her crazy.

The next locked door was on the opposite side of the lab, with too many interesting things to look at in between. Her footsteps echoed around the room as she strode through, glancing at the abandoned experiments, stealing a look inside the human-sized tank.

Just then, the door she came through whooshed open on its own, causing Ada to whirl around on the spot, gun out. A mob of armed guards covered head-to-toe in riot gear. Their automatic weapons trained on her as they fanned out across the room, three on each side.

Flanked, she realized solemnly, and of course the door behind her was locked. She dropped her gun and raised both hands, not necessarily in surrender, though.

A man stepped forward between the guards, the door sealing behind him, and Ada instantly recognized him.

A past-middle-aged man wearing a three-piece tweed suit the color of bog water, with miniscule spectacles perched on a hooked nose. His face looked permanently pinched and ended in a pointed chin and began halfway up his scalp thanks to a receded hairline.

Dr. Eric Elliott looked almost the exact same as she remembered, though perhaps with less hair and more lines to his face than before. She hoped to have Taliah to thank for that.

“Well, well, well,” he said, stepping forward, a formal smile on his face. “The infamous Miss Ada Wong. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is all yours,” she retorted, a smirk on her face. They had encountered one another before, briefly, though the whole point was to not be recognized. It clearly worked if he thought they were just now meeting.

He matched her smirk, clasping his hands behind his back. “Forgive me, but I must say, I expected... more.” His tone implied more than enough, and Ada did not intend to forgive him.

“You and me both.”

He lazily swung a leg out as he paced to the side. “I’ll admit, when I heard about my colleague’s... infatuation with you, I assumed there had to be good reason.” He paused and bent forward at the waist, narrowed gaze scrutinizing her. “Now I can see that Derek had more than a few shortcomings.” His tone dripped with petty disgust.

Ada tossed her head and grinned. When the mood struck her, she quite enjoyed toying with a crazy, egotistical man. She loved knocking them down a peg.

“Well, aren’t you the pot calling the kettle obsessed.” She had no problem matching his expression. “I’m sure your fixation on Taliah is perfectly healthy.” She shrugged, feigning innocence. “From what I hear, she’s not interested in your creepy pedestal anymore.”

Elliott straightened, lips in a tight line which curled up at the ends, but his eyes were pinpricks behind heavy lids. A touch in their verbal spar. But he recovered a moment later, his original dead smile back to stretching out his thin lips. He no longer seemed interested in pacing.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen the little specimen running around, have you?” he asked, in a tone that clearly indicated he already knew she was there. But did he know what exactly she was doing at that moment? Ada doubted it. Which means he might not yet know about Leon.

“What’s wrong?” she chided. “Worried she’s decided you’re longer the lesser of two evils?” She had, at one point; despite any regrets the girl may now have, it was still better than the alternative.

A nerve in his cheekbone twitched. “As engaging as this has been, I feel I must warn you that whatever charms you used to ensnare Simmons...” he pushed his glasses further up his beak-like nose, “...will not work on me.”

You’d be so lucky, Ada thought with a disgusted sneer.

However, before she could think of a comeback, the lights in the lab cut out and the door behind her slid open. Ada did not hesitate, she turned and ran, not even risking it to retrieve her gun. The door slammed closed behind her, cutting off the sounds of confused shouts. Lights came on one-by-one in front of her, illuminating a path. She kept running, following. If she came to an intersection, one path would be lit, indicating her intended direction. If there were multiple doors to choose from, one would open for her and lock again once she was through.

A flutter of optimistic hope fluttered in her stomach. It was too precise, too choreographed. Someone was guiding her through, and she strongly suspected it was the same person who helped her out the first time.

And if she was out, that meant her treatment must have worked. Leon would be okay.

The control room was dead ahead, the door standing open. As she rushed into the room, she caught a glimpse of Taliah hovering over one of the computers, looking over her shoulder. The door slammed close, and the room fell silent.

Ada allowed herself a moment to catch her breath, her pulse higher than she would like. She turned toward the door, trying to listen for any sounds of a pursuit. She was unarmed, but with Taliah at the controls, they stood a decent chance.

“Thanks,” she breathed, checking herself over, smoothing down what needed to be. “That was a close one.”

“Oh, it still is.” Taliah’s voice came from directly behind her.

When she turned around, a force smashed into her, sending her stumbling backward several steps. A sharp pain in her sternum pulled her attention, and upon looking down, Ada saw a syringe protruding from her; it was empty, as its contents were already in her system. She yanked it out, too late.

A light-headed feeling took over suddenly, and she lost her balance in her retreat, falling backwards and landing in a heap. Her pulse thudded in her ears, beginning to feel flushed. Air did not fill her lungs all the way.

Ada looked up to see Taliah standing over her, her expression flat. When their gazes met, the girl blew out breath slowly, prolonged and dramatic.

“Going to be honest,” she said with a shrug, “I thought I’d have something, you know, quippy to say, but nothing’s coming to mind.” She hesitated another moment, but then knelt down next to Ada.

Despite the virus spreading through her, Ada managed to find her voice. “Few people have gotten the jump on me,” she got out, though her throat felt raw. “Congrats.”

Taliah’s eyes flashed to hers before flicking away, scanning her from top to bottom. She reached out and began patting her down, pulling out her various devices. “It’s a diluted dose, by the way. Enough to turn you, but it’s going to take its sweet time doing so.” Her lips pursed. “Probably won’t be pleasant.”

A dry laugh escaped her, but ended in a hacking cough. Dread was starting to bubble in her stomach. “I guess Elliott’s rubbed off on you... watching your victims squirm.”

Taliah paused, arms braced on her knees. From up close, Ada could see the bandages below the crook of each elbow, the slight bruising around twin injection sights. “I’ll admit,” the girl said, softly, “it’s kind of nice not being the lab rat for once.”

Then the girl’s hand reached into Ada’s hidden pack and emerged clutching the serum. When her eyes found Ada’s again, something behind them had changed.

“It’s nothing personal,” Ada struggled to get out. Her stomach was doing flips, skin around breaking out in a sweat. It was true. In her line of work, she could not afford such liabilities as loyalty or comradery, no matter what she might have previously felt toward the girl. “Being the last one made it more valuable.” There was no point in lying; Taliah knew what she was, and Ada knew what Taliah was. But they both knew what it was like to make difficult decisions in order to survive.

Taliah held her gaze for a heavy, silent moment, before looking down at the serum in her hands. “Eric was the only one on that entire team to see me as something more than a weapon. He theorized that we could synthesize my ability, be able to make something that would hypothetically give anyone my resilience for a short time. We went through so many trials, trying to prove it could work. There were a lot of failures.”

She gripped the small vial in one hand, gently tapping it against the fingers of her other hand. “Eric pushed it too far. He knew I was pulling away, knew I wanted to quit. He used Caleb as a means to force me to keep working on the serum, saying it was the only way to save him.” She sighed, shaking her head. “That was until we learned that, while the new trial of the serum works, it couldn’t reverse any advanced mutations. Nothing was going to save Caleb. And nothing was going to stop Eric.”

Ada’s body ached all over, which was only made worse by the shivers and chills. But there was still a twinge of something deep inside her, though she would rather continue to die than admit it might have been empathy.

“So much pain and death and destruction over a stupid little thing,” the girl went on, oblivious to Ada’s suffering, or at least unsympathetic towards her. Ada supposed that was fair, all things considered.

Taliah ran a thumb along the length of the vial, twisting the end to engage the spring-lock syringe.

“Hope it as worth it.”

And then she injected the serum into the side of Ada’s neck.

The pinch of pain was immediately followed by an icy rush, a balm against the fever of infection. Ada could almost feel her immune system breathe a sigh of relief. Somehow, the haze of illness clouding her mind began to dissipate.

Confused and more than a little bewildered, Ada looked at the girl, who was busy staring down at the empty vial in her hands. A smile grew on her face, free and genuine.

“The last one,” Taliah whispered, likely to herself. “Finally gone.”

Ada pressed a hand to her neck, the lingering pain leaving her skin tender. “Why?” was all she managed. Skeptical did not begin to cover what she was feeling.

When Taliah looked back down at her, her face was serious. “Because I need your help getting Leon out of here.”

Ada had to admit, that was not what she expected to hear.

“He’ll be waking up soon, and when he does, he’ll be weak. You should recover first.” The girl got to her feet, tossing the empty vial over her shoulder without a second thought. “I’ll do what I can to give you guys enough of a window to get away.”

She reached down and held a hand out to Ada, who was surprised to find enough strength returned to her that she could stand, though she needed to brace herself against a desk.

“I left a passcode with him. The serum will be in your system for about the next hour, so if you hurry, you might still be able to get a sample from yourself.”

“What about you?” Ada felt herself asking, unsure why it had come out at all.

The smile that Taliah gave her was determined and sad. “Me leaving was never part of the plan,” she said simply. “I have to end this.” She shifted as if to walk away, but Ada shook her head at the girl.

“He won’t leave without you,” she countered.

Taliah paused, lips pursed as she considered. “How annoying,” the girl muttered.

Ada felt her lips quirk upwards. “Take it from me, it’s cute until it isn’t.”

That was enough to get Taliah to turn and face her fully. The darkening circles under her eyes were only more prevalent as Ada’s head cleared.

“You’ve lied to him before, haven’t you?” It was somewhere between an accusation and an innocent inquiry. “Do it again. Say whatever you have to, tell him anything that will make him leave. He’ll listen to you.” The poor girl looked like she believed it, too. “Just...” she trailed off, gaze falling to the floor. “Just... don’t tell him what happens to me.” She looked up again, some the conviction missing in her face. “He doesn’t need more guilt.”

Ada opened her mouth, to agree or to argue, she did not know, but Taliah cleared her throat and cut her off.

“You have to get out before Eric realizes that Leon is here.” She shook her head once, forcefully, when she added, “He will not let him leave alive.”

“And if he does?” Ada questioned, thankfully no longer needed to brace against the desk, though her knees were not as stable as normal.

Taliah exhaled sharply, glancing toward the door. “Then I’ll have to improvise.” She looked back, mouth in a straight line. “And no one wants that.” And with that, she turned and began toward the door.

“Wait,” Ada called, taking only a single step after her. The girl paused but did not turn. “I owe you.” Yes, the girl had technically saved her life, but she had also been the one to threaten it in the first place. She solved a problem of her own creation. But still... “I don’t like being anyone’s debt.”

That got Taliah to look over her shoulder, though her gaze never fully reached Ada. “When all this is over,” she began, voice low, and then shifted to look Ada square in the eye. Her gaze burned. “Put a bullet between Eric’s eyes for me.”

And that was that. The girl walked out of the room without another word.

Chapter Text

There was not a single part of Leon’s body that did not hurt. Muscles, bones, organs, nerves. Everything. But despite it all, he made himself move, forced one foot in front of the other. Until one step caused his knee to buckle, and he lost his balance.

“Leon.”

A shock ran through his system as arms caught his shoulders. He could not see her face, did not need to to know who it was.

“Ada?”

He craned his head, needed to see her with his own eyes, and even then, did not truly believe what he was seeing was reality.

“Careful,” she said, guiding him to brace a shoulder against the wall.

“What are you... doing here?” he asked, speaking through the aches in his chest, the resistance in his lungs. But then he gave a single shake of his head. “Never mind. I can guess.”

She moved around to face him, her expression neutral, but the corners of her eyes crinkled with concern. One hand was at his side, where his shirt had been torn and a bandage covered his wound. Where Taliah had patched him up.

“You’re the one who stole Taliah’s serum,” he said, and it was not a question, but also not exactly an accusation. If the US government has intercepted the message about Taliah’s escape, it made sense that other groups might have also, like whoever it was that Ada worked for. If they knew where to look.

“That’s not important right now,” she said dismissively, and the fatigue in her voice pulled Leon’s attention. He looked at her closely, studied her face. She looked pale, with circles darkening under her eyes. Her eyes were bloodshot and irritated. She was physically close enough to him that he could tell her breaths were slightly labored. He felt like death warmed over, but she did not look a whole lot better.

“Are you okay?” he heard himself asking. If she had been here to steal the serum, if she was here now, where had she been during the monster attack?

She waved him off. “I’m fine, but you need to listen to me.” She took a step back. “We need to get out of here.”

He flatted a hand to the wall in order to push off into an upright position. He attempted a few steps. “I’m not leaving without Taliah.”

A soft chuckle came from Ada. She kept a helpful grip on his shoulder as he ambled down the hall away from the examination rooms. He did not even think about removing it. “How did I know you’d say that?”

His gaze cut to her, suspicion arising from her tone. “You know where she is?”

Ada frowned, but did not deny anything. Instead, she steered him around a corner.

“Ada, how do you two know each other?”

The question was forceful, non-negotiable. He needed answers. He needed to know what the hell was going on anymore. He knew he saw recognition on Taliah’s face when he said Ada’s name back in the freight elevator, and it was more than just a reaction to a vaguely familiar name. And Ada knew about the serum, which meant she had more information than what was available from the data breach, since Hunnigan did not even know about it.

A beat passed in a familiar, stubborn silence, but it ended when Ada let out a heavy sigh. “Three years ago, the people I work for caught wind of Taliah not long after she’d been abducted and brought here. They sent me to retrieve her for them.”

Leon recoiled, halted, but Ada shot him a look, her brows knit together in annoyance.

“I don’t deal in human cargo,” she shot back, but then her sharp expression softened, and they began moving again. “They didn’t tell me I was being sent to kidnap a person. I got all the way here before I figured that part out.” She looked around, gaze sweeping to continually secure the perimeter. “By then, they had figured out that someone had infiltrated and locked the place down. Taliah was the one who found me first.”

They moved down the corridor as quickly as the two could manage, but it was clear they both needed a moment to rest, and so they ducked into the closest open door. Thankfully, the room was virtually empty.

“She helped hide me when the guards searched, and then one they’d left, she managed to help me escape.”

Leon leaned back against the blank wall, catching his breath despite the burning in his lungs. The thought almost brought on a smile. Of course, she would. Look at how far Taliah had gone for him, and they were virtually strangers.

“In exchange, I warned her that the organization I worked for would not accept no for an answer, now that they wanted her. I could only stall for so long, but they would send someone else. I told her this organization was far worse than the Umbrella lackeys who had her at the time.”

How uncharacteristically charitable, Leon thought, but then again, Ada did not like having to owe anyone anything.

“After that, apparently, she managed to convince Elliott to start a coup, which is how this facility began abandoned. Elliott whisked her away to another location where he’s kept her hidden away ever since.”

Leon paused before responding, words dying on his tongue. That was a small puzzle piece, but it helped the timeline fit together. It was why Taliah had said that she was abducted five years ago, but Hunnigan said any evidence of Taliah as Dr. Elliott’s test subject only went back three years. Two years as Umbrella’s lab rat, and then three years as Dr. Elliott’s.

Worse than that, Leon could imagine exactly what it took to make someone like Dr. Elliott turn against everyone else. He suspected there was a bit of truth in Taliah’s original story about Caleb after all, just not the way she told it.

“And your organization,” the emphasis on the word was a habit, as Leon did not know exactly who Ada frequently worked for, he knew the kind of work she often did, and could not imagine it being a morally aligned group of people; “they never found her again?”

Ada exhaled, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Elliott began referred to her as Subject TT to hide her identity, in case anyone tried to come looking for her again.”

Taliah had mentioned that the name was meant to protect her, before Dr. Elliott turned it into a weapon to use against her instead.

“And so how do you know all this when they don’t?” He knew looking for a straight answer from Ada Wong was not always impossible, but it would take herculean effort.

When she looked at him, the familiar expression nearly unlocked his knees. The little smirk, the knowing glint in her eyes. “Because I’m good at my job.” Leon raised an eyebrow, and a tiny fraction of her folded. “And I might have kept tabs on her for a little while.” Another beat passed, Leon holding her under his incredulous gaze. “To make sure my tracks were covered.”

After a moment or two of staring her down, Leon sighed. “And you never thought to, I don’t know, help her?”

He did not expect the pause that followed, or the pensive look that covered her face. He did expect a simple quip or retort, but she instead said, “Would you believe me if I told you she was probably safer there?”

“No,” was his immediate response, brows furrowing with annoyed confusion. Why couldn’t they ever see eye-to-eye on things smaller than world-ending bioterrorism.

“Leon.” She locked eyes with him, and the slight droop to her lips looked more sincere than he had seen on her in a long time. “You have no idea what she is.”

That made Leon pause. And what exactly did that mean? Pondering such a question about Taliah, Leon came to learn, could drive a person mad, since he figured there would never be a clear answer. And so, he shook his head and shook away the thought.

“I know she’s in trouble.” And that was what mattered to him. After everything that had happened, everything she had gone through because of him, less than a single day, he was not giving up on her. It was high time that he saved her for once.

Ada’s grip was on his arm, not pulling, but certainly present. “She can handle Elliott. She has before.”

“Three against one would be better odds.”

“Eleven. He brought guards.”

Which meant Dr. Elliott was already there, and Taliah was running around somewhere. They had to hurry and find her. “All the more reason she shouldn’t be alone.”

“She—” Ada began, but cut herself off. She looked as though she was getting worked up and needed a moment to recollect herself. There was some battle going on inside her, Leon could tell. “She’s going make sure we have a window to get out without anyone knowing.”

“How do you know?” he questioned.

“She told me.” Ada rolled her eyes, as if it should have been obvious. The time for being vague about relations had passed, but getting straight answers was not the usual occurrence. “She also said she left the passcode with you.”

Somehow, even frowning was costing too much energy. “You mean this?”

He handed the small note over, the one he had woken up already clutching. Something in the back of his mind told him that he was not the intended recipient, but now he suspected he was merely meant to be the messenger.

Dear Juliet,

“Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books.

But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.”

And your schoolboy is showing.

XO, Taliah

Leon watched as the confusion on her face was quickly chased away by something else, comprehension mixed with a hint of bashfulness that did not belong on Ada Wong’s face. The note crumpled and disappeared into her small fist.

After a chuckle and a small grin, she said, “That girl really is a lot smarter than she looks.”

It was the first thing they agreed on since the start of their bizarre encounter. It was said with reverence, and Leon privately wondered how Taliah had somehow managed to gain that level of Ada's respect, something rare and not easily won. But if anyone could, he was starting to think it of course would be her.

“I know,” he said, his own weak smile matching hers. “Which is why we need to go get her. Then we can all get out of here together.”

But Ada's face had changed again, reverting to the placid stoicism from before. “Taliah has a plan.” But she no longer sounded as sure.

Leon clenched his jaw so hard that it popped. Since waking up alone in the med bay, he felt as though he was still half asleep.  Or half dead. Now reality surged back in, and with it, his renewed anger. “Ada, that plan involves her killing herself!” The hand that was not braced on the wall clenched.

Surprise washed over Ada's features, and more surprisingly, she allowed them to stay there. “What?”

That response made it clear that however much Ada knew about Taliah, which was already more than him, she did not know that.

Leon forced himself to take a breath. He did not have the energy to fly off the handle right now. And Taliah still needed him. “She came back here to destroy the serum and then destroy herself, so that there would be nothing left of her that anyone could use.”

Ada's mouth opened and closed, and he could see her battling to regain composure. “She has her reasons,” came her breathy response.

He nearly lost it. Ada was not a bad person, she was not evil, but they definitely sat at opposite ends of the moral spectrum. He could not understand how she could say such a thing, especially when it was clearly a shock to her.

“That's not good enough for me,” he stated, pushing away from the wall. He would find the strength if he needed to.

“Of course not.” Ada gave a frustrated grunt and an exasperated flourish of her free hand. “Fine. I'll go back for her.” She said it like she meant it. “But first I need to get you out of here. The bravado is charming, but you're in no shape for a fight. And if Elliott finds out you're here—”

“He already knows.”

The man's voice came down through a speaker.

They both jumped away from the wall, turning in unison to face the wall adjacent to the door, which before had been a normal wall, but now appeared to be a two-way glass. A man stood on the other side, leering at the two of them. Leon pulled out his gun, the action demanding more speed than he was capable of, flashes of pain shooting up his arms.

“Elliott,” he heard Ada hiss next to him, and his instinct was to shift forward, putting himself between her and the threat, though the man was not in the room. The door they had come through was still open, but as none of the guards that Ada mentioned were visible, his instincts told him they had to be nearby.

“How delightful,” Dr. Elliott chuckled, and Leon took in his appearance for the first time. Yeah, he looked like a creep. “After so many years of the DSO biting at my heels, I happen to have one sitting here in my trap.” He wore a shit-eating grin like it belonged on his face. “A mister Leon S. Kennedy, if I have my information correct.”

Leon snorted. “Dr. Eric Elliott. Former Umbrella researcher and current coward, judging by the fact you always seem to be hiding behind glass.”

The man’s mouth twitched. “Does the US government condone of your... fraternizing?” He waved a hand out in front of him, clearly indicating Ada. “She must be very popular.”

Even the bones in his arms ached, but Leon did not lower his gun an inch. “They’re a bit more concerned about the shit you’ve been up to lately.”

Dr. Elliott feigned ignorance, spreading his arms out to either side to give a theatrical shrug.

“I merely asked that my darling test subject to be returned alive. And so you did...” His greasy smile broadened, looking disproportionately large on his sunken face. “Just as you were meant to.”

Leon paused, any retort clogging in his throat. His obvious hesitation made Dr. Elliott beam with sadistic delight.

“Isn’t that right, Taliah?”

Keeping his gun trained at the glass, Leon looked around. Taliah was standing in the open doorway, arms crossed over her chest, eyes staring straight ahead at Dr. Elliott.

Without a word, she reached out and hit the button for the door, locking the three of them inside.

Chapter Text

Taliah took a single step further into the room, and Ada got a sinking feeling in her stomach. They were in the midst of the worst-case scenario, and she did not know how it was going to pan out.

“And you say I’m dramatic,” Taliah countered in a flat voice. She strolled forward without a sideways glance at them, leaning against the wall halfway between them and the observation window.

Ada had been much more concerned with Leon’s weakened state when she moved them into this room, having no idea that it was one of the testing rooms. Taliah’s face was cold and emotionless as she stared only at the opposite wall, and Ada wondered how many times she had been locked in a room like this. Or even this room specifically?

Next to her, Leon stiffened. “Haven't you done enough to her?” he growled, focus back on Elliott.

While Ada had been trying to decide if this was what she meant by “improvising” or if something had gone horribly wrong since last seeing the girl, Leon plainly trusted that Taliah had not switched sides. Ada hoped he was right, otherwise they would be screwed.

She could understand, though. Ada was loyal first and foremost to herself, and she could not fault anyone else for such a philosophy.

Taliah remained staring away, she had not moved an inch. Like she was not really in the room with them. Not mentally.

Elliott gave a heavy sigh. “And what exactly have I done to her, Mr. Kennedy?”

Ada could read the fatigue in the lines of Leon's face, could see the slight tremor in his back muscles, but she gave him credit for not backing down. In fairness, it would be best if the kidnapping madman did not know that they were both near collapse.

“Chronologically?” he snapped back. “How about we start with you holding her prisoner?”

“Mm. Close,” Elliott chided, a sharp tilt of his head. “But not quite. Here, she was a prisoner, with Umbrella. But never with me.”

Elliott glanced over at Taliah with a patronizing air, and her gaze seemed to slide further away from reality.

“She asked me to take her away from this place, I turned against my colleagues for her. She wanted protection, I provided it at my own risk. She wanted freedom, I gave her free reign.” The snark was gone, though his lips were still tight, pulled back at the corners. “She called us partners, and I believed her.”

Ada highly suspected the crucial problem came from her not wanting to sleep with him in return. Isn't that usually how it went? She looked between the two, trying to decide who was the better liar. She firmly believed there was a deep hatred in Taliah's heart for Elliott, but Ada was not so naïve to think the girl was purely innocent. She was too cunning to not have at least a little blood on her hands.

Leon looked to be holding to his defense, but he was also not a blind faith kind of person. Ada did not know how long they had been acquainted or what they had gone through together before this, but it appeared to be enough for him to form an attachment deeper than his typical Good Guy heroism.

He wanted to believe her, but he also wanted the truth. Ada knew from experience. It was easier to empathize with when the questions were not being directed at her and her motives.

“And did she ask to be used as a lab rat?”

The man gave a weary shake of his head. “And now I assume you mean the serum trial, yes?”

“You helped them steal her DNA. You tested on her, tortured her!”

The aging man smirked. “Is that what she told you?” His gaze floated over to Taliah, who had not shifted, but now looked to be clenching her jaw. “Did she happen to mention that the serum was her idea?”

The room fell silent for a moment. Ada saw the tip of his gun drop a hair.

Elliott caught the brief hesitation and pounced. “She was the one to conceive of the trials, wanting to synthesize her ability in order to create temporary cures, instead of a dozen vaccines for every virus variant. She headed that project.” He gave a slow nod. “Yes, the trials were conducted on her, but because the only way to properly test it was on someone who had been infected, and she made it very clear that until we found something that worked, no one was to be infected but her.”

But then Leon’s arms locked again, shifting his back foot to be more stable. “I saw the video of one of your tests.” Taliah blinked, Ada caught the movement, pupils unfroze. “When you tested her with the C-virus.” Taliah’s gaze found a spot on the floor at Leon’s feet.

Interesting, Ada thought. The girl clearly did not know that. Beneath her stone-cold mask, she almost looked ashamed.

“Ah, yes,” Elliott said, knowingly. He folded his hand behind his back. “The test trial. That particular one was to see if the serum could counteract an infection faster than her own body. Therefore, we needed to test on something that was known for infecting quickly. I’ll admit...” He trailed off, taking a step or two to the side, looking as though he wanted to pace. “The mutations were a known factor, yes, and unfortunate, but it was nothing that Taliah has not experienced before.”

A genuine growl was beginning low in Leon’s throat, but Ada kept a close eye on Taliah.

“She begged you to let her go,” he countered, sneering. Taliah’s breaths came a fraction of a second faster. “You sure didn’t seem like partners then.”

Elliott rolled his eyes as he leaned back. “She’s dramatic, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. That was not the first time she agreed to a test and then tried to get out of it once everything was prepared. They were crocodile tears, I assure you, Mr. Kennedy. And it sounds like she’s been embellishing to garner sympathy. Again.” He stopped, turning to look fully at Taliah, but when he spoke was still addressing Leon. “Do you believe that she has been entirely honest with you?”

The silence spoke volumes. Then, and only then, did Leon break eye contact with Elliott, tilting his head to look at Taliah. She did not look back, and guilt was evident all over her face. The gun barrel lowered several inches.

“Go on, then, darling,” Elliott cooed, his smile mocking. “You might as well be honest with the man for once, since he’s so obstinately defending you.” He held out a beckoning hand. “Tell him how his valiance was wasted on you.”

A beat passed in silence, followed by another. Taliah’s gaze snapped back to the wall, but after another moment, she wet her lips and spoke.

“It was a setup.” Her voice sounded alien to Ada, so dead and void compared to the voice she recognized from the girl. “All of it.”

When she fell silent again, mouth parting briefly but wordlessly, Elliott cleared his throat. “Go on.”

Taliah’s brows furrowed enough to form a single crease between them. The corners of her lips twitched down. “I was bait,” she continued, the words sounding as though they were shoved out of her unwillingly. She blinked, and then her eyes lifted to the space in front of Leon. Drawing nearer, but never landing. “The alert was sent to the DSO intentionally, and I was meant to be a distraction while Eric moved his facility to a safer location.”

The gun was now barely lifted. Leon’s shoulders were tight, pulled back, but sloped downward.

‘Did you know?” The first time, it was inquisitive, if not a little wounded. “Taliah, did you know?” But the second time, it was a demand, an order, a verbal hand reaching out desperate to grab hold of something.

Taliah’s mouth opened, closed, and sealed. The line of her mouth smoothed, but her brows remained creased. No, Ada surmised, she did not know. She had no idea that Elliott had served her up as bait, with only the hope that the government would head the request to not kill her.

But Ada did not know if Leon could see what she saw, because after a tense second, his entire body loosened, gun arm dropping to his said, stance straightening. Was it defeat, or was it closer to commiseration?

The sudden movement was enough to draw Taliah’s attention, and she finally looked at him. The moment she did, something seemed to break in her as well. She blinked back to reality, torso slouching as she peeled away from the wall. Ada was actually surprised when she moved, walked over to them, Elliott’s watchful gaze on her the entire time. Her hand reached into her pocket, and by the time she stopped directly in front of Leon, she had fished something out of it. She held it out to him.

It was then that Ada saw what it was, a small laser pointer that secured onto the underside of a gun barrel. Was it Leon’s? Why did she have it?

She looked Leon in the eyes as she held it out dangling with nothing but her thumb and finger. Leon scowled, looking between the device and the girl. Several heartbeats passed before he forced out a rough exhale and lifted a hand to take back the offering.

And then Taliah was moving. At her angle, Ada missed the exact action, but Taliah moved in and landed some kind of hit, because Leon groaned in pain and half buckled. Ada only managed to catch him on reflex. When Taliah stepped away, she was holding Leon’s gun in both hands, pointing it at them both.

“Bravo,” Elliott cheered from behind his glass barrier. He looked proudly at his test subject. “I supposed letting you handle this would not be a disaster after all.”

To Ada’s surprise, Leon took a step closer, though his chest heaved from the effort of recovering. He did not look away from Taliah. Her face did not change, the gun did not waiver, but she let him approach another step.

“Come on,” he said, the boiling anger in his voice from before had cooled. “Come on, Taliah, let’s get out of here.”

It was her turn to shake her head. “Save your breath,” she hissed, her mouth twisted but her eyes glistened. “You don’t know me at all.”

Leon chanced another half-step. “I know you’d rather die than let this man keep using you.”

Ada had to agree, that much was evident.

A humorless laugh escaped her. “Oh, stop being a hero. I told you, not everyone can be saved. You can fail a mission, and the world will keep on turning.”

Something in Ada twisted, and she felt herself taking her own step forward. “She’s bluffing,” she added, and Taliah’s gaze pierced her. “She’s bluffing and he’s lying.” She allowed a hint of a smirk to perch on her lips. You can’t con a con artist, she thought.

Perhaps it was the lingering effects of both the recent infection and the aftermath of the serum, but her head was finally beginning to fully clear. And as her mind properly returned to her, she remembered that Taliah warned that no one would like it if she had to improvise. Well, she was certainly right about that.

“Fuck you both.” Taliah’s expression was far from angry, but more weary.

Leon pursed his lips. “Sorry, not buying it.”

The two stood and glowered in a standoff, until Taliah spat out, “Dammit.”

She gave a small twist, and then the gun fired. The shot was deafening in the closed room, and both Ada and Leon jolted.

The bullet had hit the panel next to the door, circuitry exploding with sparks and shooting debris. The door gave a confused groan before sliding open. The hallway looked oddly clear on the other side.

Taliah held her position in the center of the room, gun at her side, facing the two of them with Elliott at her back.

“Eric, they’re leaving.” It was a statement, but spoken more casually than the situation inspired.

The man was now frowning deeply, displeased, but made no move to call for help or stop the situation. Only a single greying eyebrow rose. “And why do you think that?” he countered, rather condescendingly for someone closed off in a room meant for looking but not touching. Observing, but not altering. The position of power, but not control.

Taliah had control of the situation. And she looked directly at Ada, who swore the girl’s expression read plain as day, “I told you so.” Then she expelled a breath, sucked in a fresh one, and held it. The gun rose again, up past the control panel, past Leon, past Ada. Up until it rested against Taliah’s own temple.

Chapter Text

Leon pulled out of Ada’s grip as he lunged forward. She only barely managed to grab him just as Taliah stepped back and out of reach of him, the gun planted firmly to the side of her head. Her finger was at trigger.

“Taliah, stop! Wait!”

But as the girl repositioned, Ada could see past her, into the observation room. The look on Elliott’s face was unadulterated fear. His eyes were wide and locked on Taliah, who had moved to have him on one side and them on the other. Mouth hung open and trembled with unspoken stammering.

Got him, Ada thought.

Leon clearly did not see that was the point as he, like Elliott, was only focused on Taliah. “What are you doing?” It was a plea, drained and desperate. He was not the only one.

A knot tightened in Ada’s stomach. None of this needed to happen, and yet here they were.

Eyes closed for a moment, Taliah sighed. “I tried,” she said with an air of finality.

The sound of her voice must have shocked Elliott back to reality, because he jolted, quickly pulling himself together, though now that she was looking, Ada could see where the seams were fraying.

“Well,” the older man huffed, smoothing the front of his suit, trying to hide the tremble in his hands. “Now, this is childish even for you.”

At this, Taliah opened her eyes again, and her weapon’s grade glare found their true mark.

Elliott’s frown looked more like an imitation. “You cannot be serious. You’re protecting them? To what end, Taliah?” His tone was patronizing, to a sickening degree. “That man is a specialized government agent. He likely has people monitoring him with backup waiting.”

What a novel idea, Ada thought sarcastically, knowing intimately Leon’s history of being thrown at dangerous situations completely on his own. Hell, half of the time, Ada herself had to act as his backup.

“Are you worried about getting caught?” Taliah countered. “Do you really expect me to believe you didn’t get everything moved to another location before ever thinking about coming for me? You knew I’d go through upstairs; you had all the time in the world.” She sneered. “Don’t act like I mattered that much to you.”

“And you think you matter to them?” Elliott spat, tilting his chin toward Leon dismissively. “Do you think he can protect you? The moment they find out what you are, the government will throw you in a cage smaller than anything Umbrella ever did.”

As much as it came with a queasy feeling, Ada had to agree. As the war on bioterrorism continually raged on all over the world, the US became less and less lenient on anything involved, even when much of the blame fell on them. Especially then. She had of course considered helping Taliah escape three years ago, but the girl was adamant. Perhaps even then she knew that the risks outweighed the reward.

Taliah shook her head once, the gun following. “The only files they have are from the serum trials. I destroyed everything else. I’m the only proof that’s left.”

“And so, what then?” Elliott argued, growing exasperated. He swiped a hand through the air. “You’ll live off the grid? In another country? Do you have identification? Birth certificate? Money? Will you go back to your job? Your life from before, Taliah, is gone.” His brows went from scrunched to the arched, face smoothing into pity. “You don’t know what having a life is like anymore. You have no idea how to be a person.”

“And whose fault is that?” Leon yelled, the volume and ferocity making both Ada and Taliah jump. “Whose fault is it that she—”

“Stop!” The voice that shouted back was Taliah’s, head tilted slightly in their direction, eyes on Leon. No longer void, her eyes glistened and swirled with pain and sadness and something else. Something that Ada had quickly learned could only be described as the way Taliah looked at Leon. “Stop defending me. I told you before, I’m not worth it.”

Leon huffed out a laugh, and Ada could see a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips from where she stood at his side. “I’ve already decided that for myself, thanks. And I’m not leaving you.”

Ada swore the girl matched his ghost of a smirk. “You really don’t take rejection very well.”

“Taliah, whatever this is, whatever you’re doing, it’s a bad idea.”

A genuine smirk emerged. “I only have bad ideas.” But a small, sad frown crept onto her face, smothering it. “But do me a favor, okay?”

He paused, frowning and confused.

“In sixteen years, call me and thank me.” She looked at him in such a sincere way that Ada suspected it meant more than it seemed. “It’ll make for a good story.” Whatever it truly meant, Leon understood. She felt the tension leave his body, unclench, defeated.

Something akin to worry was slowly taking over Ada’s system. And if Leon was actually giving up on this girl...

There was no time to consider it. Taliah pivoted to fully face Elliott, her face now hidden from view. “Like I said, they’re leaving. Unharmed and unfollowed.”

Elliott’s lips were pursed. “A precious display. But I suppose you just cannot help manipulating people’s emotions. I can see why you’d sympathize with the spy whore.”

Ada did not care about the insult, she had heard worse, but Leon reacted. Always the gentleman.

“Careful, Eric,” Taliah said, and Ada heard the teasing tone, could imagine the girl’s face. “Green isn’t your color.” The girl snorted. “You always were the jealous type.”

“And you always were reckless,” Elliott threw back at her, clearly growing flustered. “Haven’t you learned your lesson? Do you remember what happened last time?”

Taliah’s entire silhouette stiffened. Ada swore she saw the girl’s trigger finger twitch. “Don’t you dare fucking mention Caleb.” The teasing was gone, burned away by the boiling rage. “After what you did to him.”

“You used that boy to provoke me,” Elliott argued, his jaw locking. Ada saw color rising in his face. “He knew better than to go near you, let alone...” He trailed off with a shake of his head. “He deserved his punishment, and so did you.”

Ada saw the jealousy painted across the man’s face, and she heavily suspected that her earlier theory was correct. But the subject had hit a nerve, and Taliah was growing too angry to keep control of the situation, and Elliott was going to use whatever he could against her. She needed help.

“What’s wrong, Elliott?” Ada spoke up. Leon turned to look at her, brows furrowed. Taliah did not move, but also did not stop her. “Didn’t like it when someone else got to play with your toy?” She secretly hoped Taliah would not take offense at the insinuation, though she figured it was right on the mark. She remembered the scene on the security cameras; devotion like that does not come from a little crush.

A glare landed on her, mouth flapping as he began to splutter. But Taliah had regained enough composure to continue.

“He’s mad because someone else got to play with his toy before he ever did,” she clarified in a jeering tone, and that was confirmation enough for Ada. “I never used Caleb. But you... I played you like a fucking fiddle.” Her voice was taunting, acidic. “And after everything we’ve been through together, after everything you did for me, I’d still rather blow my brains out than let you touch me ever again.”

 Her finger slid fully onto the trigger, skin wrapping around the curved metal.

“And you know it.”

Despite everything, the muscles in Leon’s arm tightened, and Ada tried to settle him with a light touch. She understood, but they needed to let Taliah handle the situation, as unfortunate as the situation was.

“But you need me, alive,” she went on. “I destroyed all of the samples, all of the research. And now, even the serum sample is gone.”

Ada caught when Leon’s gaze cut directly to her, but she did not react, only kept her focus on the man through the glass. At the cracks forming and splintering in his façade.

“The serum was my idea, but you never cared about the good could do. You only cared about the power you’d get from it. Over Umbrella, over the government, but more importantly, over me. You wanted the control.”

“I wanted what was best for you,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “But you always had to fight me, didn’t you?”

“You locked me up in a cage. You don’t get to act surprised when I try to get out.”

“It was for your own good—”

“You had your men shoot at me!” Taliah yelled back, leaning forward with the emphasis.

Ada clocked the small movement of Leon’s head, and she followed his gaze to where an old bandage sat wrapped around Taliah’s bicep.

Elliott was nearing his breaking point. “I loved you!” he screamed, the glass in front of him fogging up.

“You can’t!” Taliah screamed back just as forcefully. They really were a match made in hell. “You don’t know how to love anyone but yourself! You think you’re so much better, but you’re every bit the obsessed psychopath that Simmons was.”

“But with half the ambition,” Ada threw out.

“And half the creativity,” Taliah added.

“About the same as far as looks go, though.” She stuck her nose up when she said it.

“You’re not helping,” Leon whispered harshly to her, but Ada could not tell what was helping anymore, but she could not help but feel sympathetic toward the girl.

They had both made the wrong decision with the wrong men. Ada had walked away from her ordeal without much of a scratch, and that was after preventing world extinction. Taliah’s stakes were much lower, but she was paying a heavier price.

“Enough!” Elliott’s voice cracked. His arms were straight at his sides, eyes blinking rapidly as if he could not properly focus, and he was panting. “You hate me so much, you ungrateful bitch, then do it!”

“Fine!” Taliah cried.

The gun went off.

“No!”

The room rung with the echoes of the shot mixing with the screaming voices. Ada felt her own cry rip from her mouth, her own hand reaching forward. It was not supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be a show, a bluff. It was never supposed to be real. Was she angry that Taliah had somehow managed to fool all of them, or was she angry because the girl was just beginning to grow on her, and now she was—

But Ada blinked as the room settled, though her own heartbeat pounded in her ears. Taliah’s body was not on the floor, but still standing where it was. There was no gore splattered on the wall, just a single bullet hole near the ceiling, still smoking.

Another blink, and Ada saw that the gun was no longer pressed to Taliah’s temple, but was now angled up and away, an angry red line marring the skin at the edge of her hairline, evidently where the bullet grazed her, a gunpowder burn reddening with every passing second. A drop or two of blood trickled from her ear, but she remained standing, seemingly unfazed.

Past her, the man in the observation room had unraveled, looking entirely undone.

Ada did not dare steal a look at Leon, fearing the sight would break her heart.

A beat passed, and Taliah let out a breath, tilting the gun back to point at her.

Ada saw the exact moment the fight drained out of Elliott, the exact moment he realized he had lost.

A stampeding scuffle sounded through the door; both Leon and Taliah heard it too. “Stand them down,” Taliah was ordering, even as the first guard burst through the threshold. But the man could not speak, so instead when the men had filed in, automatic weapons trained on them, he only held up a hand.

When nothing threatening happened, Taliah looked at the two men closest to her. “Escort them out, unharmed. Leave them at the entrance. Do not follow them.” She gave orders like she was used to doing it.

The men hesitated, looking at her and then looking to Elliott. The man’s head hung nearly to his chest, shoulders loose, eyes unfocused and distant. But after a moment, he nodded. The two guards moved forward, flanking them. When neither moved, a man reached out to grab Leon.

“No,” Leon grunted, resisting. His gaze did not leave Taliah, though all that faced him was her back. “Taliah. Please...”

The girl did not turn. “I’m sorry you failed your mission, Agent Kennedy.” And that was all she said.

“Taliah!” Leon’s voice, the way he said the girl’s name, ripped a memory from where Ada had locked it deep away. A memory of when the two of them were deep underground in a facility much like this one. When she had begged him to let her go, and he said her name the same way. Ada had survived, but Leon had lost her anyway. There was no going back after that moment. Their paths were forever separated after that, crossing occasionally, but never merging.

But this time, the ending had to be different.

“Leon,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his face, to turn his attention toward her. He had always been so good at reading her, even when she did not want him to. Well, she wanted him to know now, and she prayed that the look on her face was enough to convey to him.

He must have seen something, because he relented, allowing the men to lead the two of them away.

At the door, Ada threw a look over her shoulder, looking in time to see the rest of the guards swarm in around Taliah. And then the door closed between them.

Chapter Text

The wall of screens flickered, some occasionally being overcome with static, but Taliah did not take her eyes off the screens that showed the four people moving through the corridors. Sometimes they moved left to right, sometimes right to left, depending on the camera angle. In each, they moved at the same pace, in the same configuration; one guard in the front and one in the back, Leon and Ada between them.

She did not take her eyes off the screens, but she also did not take Leon’s gun away from her head. No matter how the gazes of the Muscles burned holes into the back of her hear. No matter how aware she became of Eric looming in the doorway, as silent as he had been since she pulled the trigger.

After what felt like a lifetime, the group finally reached the camera at the third exit. The camera only went as far as the barren stretch of hallway leading up to the steel doors, and they passed out of view within seconds. A moment later, the static of a Muscle’s radio chirped behind her.

“All clear, over.”

The screen flared with static, blurring the view of the empty hallway.

“Satisfied?”

Eric’s voice was unlike she had ever heard, distant and sharp. Like someone else trying to mimic him.

Of course, Taliah was not satisfied. It never had to come to this. This could have all been over hours ago. But it had been her mess to clean up, and it was finally coming to an end. Her arm gave out then, grown sore and stiff to the point that moving it again caused pain to shoot up into her elbow. What was a little more pain, though? What did it even matter anymore?

A Muscle stepped forward and snatched the gun out of her hand. A stab in chest halted her next breath. That was Leon’s gun. Yet another thing she’d taken from him. But Taliah had somehow always known that she was born with the opposite of a Midas Touch; she somehow managed to ruin everything she touched.

The grid of screens went dark in unison as the surveillance system was powered off.

“We’re leaving.”

Good, Taliah thought. Let’s get this over with.

Hands grabbed her arms and yanked. She twisted on instinct, one of the Muscle’s grip pressing right into the wound caused when a bullet grazed her. She had all but forgotten the wound at her hip, where another bullet took a little more.

A guard had her on either side, and even if she was not exhausted, in pain, half deafened, and starving, escape would not be likely. Three guards followed behind them with two others boxing them in from the front, Eric at the lead with one guard at his side.

With the facility no longer in lockdown, the doors did not hesitate to let them through. When they reached the main crossroad, Eric looked to his guard and spoke mid-stride, “Initiate the self-destruct.”

The guard nodded and veered off toward the control room while they continued on. Toward the labs? Not toward the cells or the elevator or any of the exits she knew about.

“Where are we going?” Taliah demanded.

It did not make sense. Why was Eric dragging this out? If the DSO was sending in backup, then why were they wasting time? And with the self-destruct protocol, there was about to be a literal countdown. Why was he drawing this out.

“Just kill me already!” she yelled, tears stinging her throat. Just let it be over. She needed it to be over.

Eric halted, causing the escort to lurk to a stop, jostling her enough to make the world spin for a moment. He turned on his heels and looked at her through the gap in bodies. For a moment, he looked the same as when he called her bluff, telling her to pull the trigger. But a blink later and it was instead the face he wore the day he found out about her and Caleb.

The face he made when concocting a punishment.

“And why would I do that?”

Taliah’s breath caught in her throat. She suddenly felt cold, clammy right down to her bones.

“You said so yourself. I love having control over you.”

No, this was wrong. Everything was wrong.

“And since you destroyed what we’ve worked so very hard to achieve, we will need to start over.”

And then he turned and marched through another door. The door to the main lab. The lights flicked on, cold and sterile, all except for a blue-green glow that came from the center of the room.

“No!” The words ripped from her throat before her mind realized. She pulled at the hands holding her so much that she felt her shoulder begin to dislocate. They dragged her forward, her feet barely on the ground. But she did not stop, could not stop.

Eric stood to the side and watched with a pleased look on his face. “We’ve got work to do, darling.”

Taliah screamed.

Chapter Text

Ada kept hold of Leon the entire way, and he leaned into her. She could feel that his strength was returning, heard the change in his breathing, the color returning slowly to his face. He could have walked nearly fine on his own and at a more normal pace, and so could she.

But the guards did not need to know that.

The final hallway was nothing more than polished concrete and tiled walls, no more doors or branching paths. It seemed to go on for dozens of yards, gradually inclining the entire way. They finally came to a thick steel door which needed a security code input, the space smelling of mildew and dirt.

The door opened to a rush of fresh air, a chilled breeze getting sucked in. The florescent lighting inside faded into the darkness of the night outside.

“Go on,” one guard grunted, shoving Leon forward, Ada dragged along with him. They both stumbled forward, their steps scraping on the unthawed dirt. Shifting around, Ada saw what made the secret third exit so elusive.

They were somewhere in the woods that surrounded the area, deep in judging by the distance they walked. The cement doorway was built into the side of a small hill, with greenery and trees sprouting around it. Ada had to admit, as far as secret doors went, it was pretty decent. She doubted the doorway would be visible from most angles. Not something anyone could easily stumble across.

A glance told her that Leon was also checking their surroundings, trying to get their bearings, assess the situation. What a good, reliable soldier he was.

The two that had escorted them out followed past the threshold; something they were told not to do, Ada noticed. Their rifles were equipped with flashlights, which were pointed directly in their eyes.

The guard closest to her reached up to grab a radio on his shoulder. “All clear,” he declared, and it almost sounded true. He turned to the other. “What should we do with them?”

The other looked to hesitate, not as driven by bloodlust, evidently. “Our orders were to—”

“Now!” Ada hissed, already pulling away. Leon snapped up and moved.

“Hey!”

But the guard only had time to exclaim before Ada rendered him weaponless and then unconscious. A short scuffle followed by an armored body hitting the ground told her Leon had equal success taking out the other guard.

Ada nudged the man with her shoes, just to be safe, and when he did not stir, she stooped to pat him down. The automatic rifle was too unwieldy for her liking, it would only slow her down. Instead, she reached for the firearm holstered at the small of the guard’s back, checking it over.

Leon groaned and sank to his knees, and she spun in time to see him reaching for the wound at his side. The bandage there was spotted with bright blood, newly torn open.

“I’m okay,” he said when he saw her approach. He gripped his own stolen rifle and used it to push himself back up.

Ada shook her head. He was recovering, but that burst of effort likely took more than he had built back up. He needed to rest. “You’re in no shape for a fight, Leon.”

His blue eyes cut to her. “He’s going to kill her.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“I have to—!”

“I’ll go,” Ada cut him off, knowing exactly what he was going to say, knowing how little an argument would help anymore right now. “I’ll go back in and get her. You stay here and cover the exit in case anyone follows us out.”

Reflexive relief was quickly overtaken by suspicion, and his gaze narrowed in on her. “Why?”

A fair question, in all honesty. She did not exactly have a track record dotted with charitable acts. Her mission was already a failure, and she was staring down the barrel of returning empty handed. Why not just cut her losses and get out while she still could?

Ada’s arms fell loose as she shook her head repeatedly. A shrug was all she could really muster. “What can I say? She’s growing on me.” Everyone else seemed to be falling for her, and Ada did not want to be left out.

It took another moment of dubious glaring before his face relaxed. “Okay,” he relented, gathering himself and slinging the rifle’s strap around his shoulder. He checked it over before looking back at her. “Be careful, Ada.” It was said with a formal nod as he moved to take a better vantage point, but the tone was soft and sincere.

Ada smiled to herself. Taliah had been teasing, but she was wrong. Ada was not some fourteen-year-old girl falling in love for the first time, overtaken by the adrenaline and temporary ecstasy of it all. Ada could walk away. And she had, every time. She could do it again. And wouldn’t it be easier to do if she knew someone better would be in her place?

“Leon,” she called as she headed back to the entrance. He looked over at her, and she smirked at him. “If you don’t fall for her, I might just take her for myself.” She threw him a wink before hurrying back inside before he could respond.

Footsteps clacking and lightbulbs humming were the only sounds. She managed to retrace her steps enough to the point where rooms and paths began to look familiar again. Though she stopped and checked at every corner, no threats presented themselves. The halls were too quiet, too empty. They could not have gotten far...

But then a blood-curdling scream tore through the facility, the intensity only growing as it echoed.

Taliah.

A wave of cold washed over her, and Ada hurried, trying to follow where she thought the scream came from.

“Attention.” A mechanical voice spoke over the intercom, not quite human, but close. Ada had heard so many similar announcements that she already knew what was coming next. “The self-destruct sequence has been activated.”

“Of course it has.”

“All personnel are advised—”

Ada took off running, no longer checking her corners. The scream had fallen silent, and the emergency system was blaring. Adrenaline was starting to take over, causing her well-trained sense of direction to begin to slip. Did she know where she was headed? Was she even going to make it in time?

“Hey!”

Ada was already sprinting toward the guard that had emerged from a door in front of her. She was on him before he could even raise his rifle. There was no need to shoot, he went down as easily as the other. A quick scan showed that he was by himself. Ada did not know if that was a good or bad sign.

“—will occur in five minutes. Repeat. The self-des—”

Even above the blaring alarm, Ada heard what sounded like a distinct thunk of machinery nearby. Something opening or closing. As she rushed toward it, she swore she heard the sound of someone shouting the order to move out.

She had to be close. Whether she had the strength or not, she put on a burst of speed. The door in front of her slid open as she approached.

But then she came to a jarring halt. The room was completely empty. It took Ada a moment to realize that she was back in the main laboratory. She almost did not recognize it without the large stasis tank.

And there was no sign of anyone.

Chapter Text

Taliah did not stop struggling. Her fight-or-flight response would not let her, despite either being impossible. Panic had complete control over her.

Hands twisted and yanked and pulled her limbs to the point where her brain could no longer find them. One hand gripped her head, slamming it back so that light bursts filled her vision. Something was shoved onto her face, covering her nose and mouth in a tight seal. For two panicked breaths, no air came. But then a tube was shoved down her throat. Something other than air filled her lungs without permission.

Somewhere outside of herself, she could feel her fingers, her nails, making purchase on metal, clothes, sometimes flesh. But the attack did not stop. Needles jabbed into her skin. Binds claimed her wrists and ankles so that the gripping hands were no longer needed. The bodies moved away, replaced by a curved pane of glass that closed her in.

Taliah’s head swam, the gas pumping through the tube somehow both suffocating her and keeping her alive. Enough of her was still left to understand that she was quickly fading. Her hands found the glass in front of her, tethers stretched to their limits.

A warmth engulfed her feet, and she managed to look down, seeing the water flooding into the enclosed space. In seconds, it was up to her neck, over her face, everywhere.

Taliah blinked, vision struggling through the water and the gas, fading as the edges like a pulse. A blur appeared in front of her, on the other side of the glass. Another blink, and she saw Eric looking in at her, a smile on his face, palm pressed to the glass.

And then her world finally, mercifully went black.

Chapter Text

The debrief took its time making its way back onto Ingrid’s desk. To be filed away, of course, having already passed through all the hands it needed to. This particular copy was meant to go into her operation records. But there it was, still sitting at the corner of her desk, untouched.

The office was quiet, the lights dimmed low to match the late-night hour. She was the only one still at her desk, which was the case most nights. The room felt so different to the Communications Office down the hall, where the important work occurred. A simple room filled with clumps of walled-off cubicles, the bullpen was calmer, instead used for paperwork, of which she still somehow had so much to do.

It was going to be a long night.

Sighing and giving her fingers a break, Ingrid looked down at the printed copy of the report. There was nothing stopping her from just filing it away. And yet, something about that felt so final, too conclusive, that she had not even touched the physical paper yet, let alone given it much attention.

She already knew what it said, having had her meeting days ago. The conclusion was not a particularly satisfying one. Dr. Eric Elliott managed to escape yet again. Both the underground facility and the attached mall-turned-murder arena were destroyed from a self-destruct protocol. Very little was able to be recovered. When the DSO managed to track down his other facility, Site B as the files called it, it too was little more than rubble.

There had been no traces of Dr. Elliott or his team since. Subject TT, now known as Taliah Strode, was also missing, having been relegated from a target to a Person of Interest. Though there was some off-record speculation that she was dead.

Before the guilt could grip her even tighter, Ingrid grabbed the paper and threw it into a desk drawer.

A soft clank sound above caught her attention, and she looked up to see a coffee cup now sitting on the cubicle divider. Blinking, she lifted out of her chair in order to peer over the low wall, managing to catch a glimpse of Leon’s back as he walked silently out of the office. He had his jacket on, hands in pockets, likely headed home.

Sinking back into her chair, Ingrid frowned, deeply and unreserved. They had barely gotten a chance to talk in the week since he had been back. Not that she believed for a second that she was the person he wanted to speak to any time soon. But the coffee was something, and she was happy to accept.

The name written on the paper cup said “Ear Lady”. Ingrid’s smile was brief, but genuine.

The coffee was hot and strong and exactly the way she preferred it. The first sip hit her soul in seconds, and she felt able to breathe for the first time all day. It was going to be a long night, indeed.

Though they had not been able to speak after their debriefing, as coworkers or as friends, Ingrid was well aware of some of the things Agent Kennedy had been up to in the meantime. She noticed the paperwork that came through, the reports dug up, the clearance requests. It was not hard to figure out what Leon was doing.

He was looking for her. Subtly. Using his resources and connections within the government but working outside of the DSO. He had been adamant that she was still alive, convinced that Dr. Elliott had hidden her away again. Not only that, but he had been quite vocal in defense of her innocence, especially when her involvement in Dr. Elliott’s work came into question.

The man’s guilt spoke volumes louder than his voice ever could.

The thing was, Leon had not been entirely truthful in his report, but only Ingrid knew. So much was left out, some involving Taliah and everything involving the wanted terrorist, Ada Wong. Someone higher up must have suspected something, because the government then confiscated all evidence acquired from the mission, as well as everything leaked from the data breech.

Feeling her stomach churn at the reminder, Ingrid reached into her blazer’s inside pocket and pulled out the small thumb drive.

Almost everything.

Yes, Ingrid had been ordered to keep the tap on Leon’s satellite phone open at all times, computers recording everything whether they were on a call or not. But when he entered the elevator and descended into the facility, the signal had been lost. Her supervisors told her to do whatever she could to regain connection, but nothing was working, something was jamming their comms. As far as the DSO was concerned, they were not able to reestablish contact until after Agent Kennedy had escaped the facility.

But that was not entirely true. In amidst the panic and flurry of trying to connect to a missing agent, Ingrid had the idea to try and hack into the satellite phone via her personal laptop, separate from the DSO’s server. When there was no immediate success, she ignored it, and only realized that it had worked afterward. The recording began in the facility’s comms room and continued for the rest of the mission.

Ingrid did not surrender the evidence when she ought to. Instead, she transferred the files onto the thumb drive and kept it secret. She knew exactly what would happen if the government had control of the information on it. Leon would never be able to make a case compelling enough to convince them that Taliah was innocent. Despite everything, she would end up on their wanted list right next to her abuser.

But more than that, Leon himself would be in a world of trouble. Insubordination would be the least of his offenses, even perjury, compared to the fact that aiding and abetting Ada Wong could be considered treason if the prosecutors were in the right mood. And Ingrid supposed that was the real reason she had not surrendered the evidence.

Taking a breath, she plugged the thumb drive into her laptop. The files displaying each of the recordings popped up and she skimmed over them.

Taliah was not innocent, Ingrid believed, and had certainly been hiding more than she indulged, but she was not evil. Just a girl not much younger than her, dealt a losing hand in life. It was clear that the serum trial was her way of seeking atonement, wanting to use what had been a curse as something that could help other people. But as it often does, power corrupts, and she put her faith in the wrong people. Maybe even including herself.

The fact of the matter was that worse people with worse intentions were still at large. Maybe she was dead, maybe not. Maybe she had returned to Dr. Elliott’s control willingly or by force. But none of it was for Ingrid to decide. She was just a support agent, and she had done her job.

Ingrid took a sip of coffee and deleted the files.