Epilogue: In Closing

One week later...

The limousine rolled the length of the boulevard, its compliment of motorcycle-riding security personnel and bullet-proof black Lexus' forming a tight circle around it as it progressed through what was one of few bastions for the living in the war torn United States. Within the plush interior of the armoured vehicle sat the current head of that country, Jonathon Irving, a tall man of average build clad in black formal wear and an expression of bemusement on his handsome features. Sitting across from him was the Chairperson of Umbrella Incorporated, Sherry Spencer, who was talking animatedly in much the same way she had been doing for the last fifteen minutes, seemingly without pausing for breath. The President had lost focus on what exactly it was that she was saying, though he suspected that it had begun with some manner of apology. He could honestly say that he had never met a corporate executive who apologised as much as the young woman, particularly for things that were not her fault to begin with. While he detested the habits of other boardroom politicians, who took as little responsibility for their actions as possible and never, ever admitted liability, he was all too aware of the pitfalls of inviting such blame upon oneself. Indeed, had it not been for the support of the blonde sitting across from him then he would never have been able to live down the indiscretions of his predecessor, which he had made the mistake of taking responsibility for. His public admission of having been the one to dispatch an American agent onto foreign soil in search of the former President's daughter had led to him being ostracised from his party, though it had eventually proven to have saved his life, as that group had been eliminated in its entirety some time later through a number of apparently coincidental circumstances. He ran a hand through his dark hair idly as he watched the female before him gesticulating with her hands, shooting a glance at the bespectacled aide sitting beside her, who stared at him pointedly, evidently aware that he was not paying attention to her employer. It was then that he became aware of the abrupt end to the executive's monologue and realised that she was waiting for him to reply.

"That may well be the case, Lady Spencer, but it wasn't why I asked you to this meeting," he said lamely, doing his best to make the response seem plausible. She seemed to accept what he had said, however, and listened intently. That was another thing she did differently from most people in her position; she actually listened to what was being said, and could probably regurgitate it back word for word a week later if need be. "Primarily I wanted to discuss your company's help with my Administration," he told her, to which she nodded earnestly, encouraging him to continue, "I'm new to this game, and I know you haven't been at it yourself for very long, but I have enough experience to know how things work. I know that Umbrella will expect concessions to be made for its contributions to my campaign, and I'm afraid that I'm going to have to leave them disappointed. As this country's new leader I have to prioritise the welfare of the people over that of big business, and though I will understand if the corporation wishes to withdraw its funding, I will not be swayed on the matter."

Sherry stared at him blankly for a moment and then sat back in her seat. "Okay," she said eventually, smiling at him.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, frowning. She tilted her head to the side curiously, as though wondering what it was that he needed clarification on.

"Well, you wanted to help the people in the country, right?" the heir-apparent to the Spencer fortune responded, "well, that's what I want too, and they never say it but I'm sure it's what the fellows on the board think as well. So I don't see why continuing to lend you money would be a problem if we all have the same goal. I mean, that's not going to cause problems, is it? I don't want to upset anyone by doing the wrong thing."

At this point she turned to look at the woman sitting next to her, who paused her annotations in the journal in front of her and moved the hand holding her pen to adjust the wire frames perched on the bridge of her nose. She shook her head briskly, and the younger female turned back, smiling once again.

"Very well," the male replied after a moment's hesitation, before reaching to the briefcase set upon the seat behind him and opening it, withdrawing several sheets of paper that had been stapled in their upper-left corner, "in that case I have some documents to that effect that I would like to ask you to sign. The first details measures to have the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service decommissioned and another, state-sponsored group set up in its place to eliminate the threat posed by the zombies and re-establish order in the country, and that your company will use the money currently used in the upkeep of the U.B.C.S to fund that second organisation. Secondly I have a contract that will prohibit Umbrella from any further research into Biological Weaponry and legally binds them to divulge any research into a cure or vaccination for the Tyrant virus so that it can be turned over to the state ready for mass production and distribution to the citizens of this country and the world. These are the necessary first steps to rebuilding this country and ensuring that..."

He was about to continue, hoping to sell the benefits of the contracts in an effort to stop her from backing out on what she had previously been saying about helping the people of the United States. Most in her position would have made many non-committal statements, told him that they would review the documents in due course and then probably lose them in the trash once they were no longer under pressure to sign them. Lady Spencer's naivety was likely to work in his favour, and though he was loath to take advantage of such innocence, the people he would be serving as President needed these matters to be resolved. He was interrupted, however, when she took the documents from his outstretched hand, scanned them cursorily and interjected. "Do you have a pen?" she asked him, to which he started and was momentarily dumbstruck. Her personal assistant passed her a gilt fountain pen, which she accepted graciously and began to scribble her signature on each of the stapled sheets.

"Erm, thank you, Lady Spencer," Irving said, still looking exceptionally perplexed at her actions, "I must say that I was not expecting such forthcoming."

"These will help people, won't they?" she queried, looking up at him with a momentarily flustered expression, almost as though she was worried he would tell her that they wouldn't. She seemed to relax when he nodded, however, and returned to scrawling an embellished form of her name on each piece of paper resting upon her knee. "Making the world a better, brighter place; its been Umbrella's motto for so long, it only makes sense to do the right thing," she muttered, seemingly to herself, as she continued to write, "don't you think so too?"

"Of course," the dark-haired male responded, "I was merely surprised by your willingness to sign such legally binding contracts. Your peers on the Board of Directors would likely have feigned interest in their contents but never so much as addressed the issues contained within them."

She tensed suddenly, the pen clasped in her fingers skittering across the page in front of her as the jolt surprised even her. "Oh no!" she exclaimed, dismayed for some inexplicable reason and turning to address the woman sitting beside her, "did I do something wrong? Have I been unprofessional again? This is just so like me; you would think I would realise when I'm doing it by now."

The grey-clad brunette who filled the position as Lady Spencer's aide had already turned her attention to the younger girl even as her sudden embarrassment began and placed a reassuring hand upon her left shoulder, drawing her attention away from the papers that had caused her sudden agitation. The aristocrat had turned a shade of deep crimson at her perceived faux pas and she was momentarily flustered. Fortunately, after a moment the colour in her cheeks began to return to normal and she began to look less self-conscious of what she had momentarily confused for unprofessional behaviour, though she was still red at having had such a panicked moment. The assistant, who seemed almost to double as something of a caretaker for her employer, was explaining the situation regarding the articles that she was signing, evidently assuaging her concerns in regards to those particular documents. Irving looked on with an expression of the utmost bewilderment.

"I had simply meant to tell you that I find you a much more agreeable partner in these matters than your subordinates, Lady Spencer, I was not insinuating that your own behaviour was unprofessional," he informed her once he was certain that she was not likely to react poorly to his words once again, "if anything I was commenting on the lack of moral fortitude that they have in comparison with yourself. They would be unwilling to take on these responsibilities."

"Oh, they're not bad people," the blonde replied, scribbling her stylised mark on the last of the sheets and handing him back the bundle with a flourish, "they're just a little ... misguided, you know?"

"Certainly," he said, wondering if he should point out that the men and women that composed the Umbrella Board of Directors did indeed know what the right thing was, they just chose not to do it because they were motivated solely by avarice. Unfortunately, her earnest blue eyes and rounded, youthful face made doing that comparable with informing a five year old girl on Christmas Eve that Santa Claus did not exist. He turned his eyes to the contracts he was clasping and winced when he noticed that she signed her name with little hearts. Trying his best not to allow the horror to register on his face, he placed them back into his briefcase and closed the lid, ignoring the images of curly S's and loopy E's that had been burned into his mind's eye.

"This is my stop," she stated cheerfully, as the limousine and its escort pulled into the gravel driveway of a large, white building, stopping to allow the young woman and her employee to disembark in front of the wide, stone staircase that led up to the structure's front doors. A brass plaque mounted above the door announced that the location was the "Lovette Centre for Neural Research". The President regarded the place through the tinted windows of the vehicle, pondering the purpose of the facility considering how ambiguously titled it was, but was broken from his reverie when the administrative assistant opened the rear door of the passenger compartment and stepped out.

"Thank you for your assistance in this matter, Lady Spencer," he said, bowing his head in a display of gratitude. She beamed across at him, evidently hoping that he wouldn't notice that she was flushed, though considering that her change in skin tone was as prominent as it had been previously there was little chance of that.

"I'm happy to help," she told him, turning her body towards the door and pulling herself along the seat towards the opening in the car's chassis in a manner that was most undignified, before vanishing out into the sunlight to join her subordinate. He frowned to himself, wondering whether he should be worried or amused by her nature, and elected instead to simply ignore the matter, instead turning his attention to the work that lay ahead of him now that he had gained her cooperation. Or at least, he would have done, had she not ducked back into the interior compartment, smiling brightly, and exclaimed, "thank you for the ride!"

Before he could respond that it was quite alright and that no thanks were necessary, she vanished and the door was slammed shut. He sat for a moment, thinking back over their discussion, and then pinched the bridge of his nose when he spotted her standing outside, waving energetically at his window. "I am concerned for the future of big business when girls like her can become the leaders of multi-million dollar conglomerates," he muttered to himself, watching as her evidently exasperated aide almost had to resort to physicality in order to move the young woman inside the building that was their destination. He watched as she disappeared through the doors at the top of the stairs and mused on that statement for a moment, before smiling slightly.

She was honest and decent to a fault; that really wasn't a bad thing at all.

-

Any casual observer that had watched the scene outside would have been most surprised to view the actions of the young Lady Spencer now that she was in a more private setting. Her back straightened and her head lifted, the tailored black suit that she was wearing, which had previously seemed ill-fitting, pulling taut around her as she assumed the upright, confident posture of an individual who belonged in such attire. Her hands ceased their compulsive fidgeting and came to rest at her sides, swinging gently as she strode into the entrance hall of the hospice, though her smile remained posed upon her lips; that much had not been pretence. The transition in her behaviour from nervous and uncomfortable youth to cool and composed aristocrat had taken mere seconds after her entrance through the front doors. Her assistant followed in her wake, showing no concern for the woman's sudden change in demeanour. It was something that she was used to witnessing, only because she was trustworthy with the information that the supposedly demure blonde was actually not as naïve or guileless as she first appeared. She was far from it, in fact.

"A good man, that one," the young female announced flatly, evidently addressing the other individual who was following her.

"Yes, ma'am," the grey-clad subordinate agreed, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear so that it was in line with the remainder of her tresses as per her rigidly neat aesthetic, "Umbrella marked him years ago as easier to discredit than buy, so we can be assured that he is, indeed, a good man. He stood a better opportunity of becoming this country's leader than any other, and the company could not afford to have an idealist and charismatic orator such as him attempt to win the favour of the citizenry. It would have been exceptionally bad for business. He seems almost perfect for your intentions, though."

"I do hate being deceptive to good men," the blonde commented.

"You are merely doing what is necessary to ensure the well-being of this country and its people," the brunette assured her, apparently having not relinquished the role of personal motivator in spite of the youthful businesswoman's otherwise radically altered attitude, "he is a man of considerable integrity and will no doubt act as your avatar in rebuilding this nation."

"Handsome as well," the noble noted wistfully, her employee struggling momentarily to divine whether she was being entirely serious or not, before giving up altogether. "Please inform Doctor Lovette that Lady Spencer wishes to see him," she intoned, giving the receptionist a genial nod as she passed through the portal that would take her into the corridors of the aforementioned male's facility. Now that she had replaced Wesker as the sole benefactor of that particular concern it was her prerogative to come and go as she pleased.

Various people wearing white surgical scrubs wandered the hallways here and there was little to tell between the patients and staff such was the freedom given to those sequestered to the kindly neurologist's care. Any particularly observant individuals, such as the fair-haired girl herself, would have noticed the semi-circle of small, circular scars behind the right ear of some of the men and women. Anyone else, however, would have been at a loss. Those that saw her approach greeted her fondly and she did the same for them, smiling warmly and using their first names as though she knew and cared for each of them. Occasionally she would pause in her step to exchange a few heartfelt words with those who cared to engage her in anything more than a simple salutation. Her interest was not feigned in the same manner as her former Chief Executive Officer's, nor was she merely looking for a method by which to manipulate those that she spoke to. It was simply in her nature to treat friendly faces with kindness, and she had a wealth of attention to lavish upon the denizens of the research institute in particular.

"You have messages, Lady Spencer," the aide informed her, moving alongside her as they walked. Sherry nodded in acknowledgement and permitted the dark-haired female to continue. "The Board of Directors has sent a collective communiqué asking you to appraise them of your progress with the project to regenerate the U.S.," she stated, reading from the Personal Data Assistant clasped against the open pages of her journal as she organised her employer's busy schedule at the same time, "they have questions regarding the projected profit margins for the years leading up to the country's full restoration."

"They'll simply have to get used to the idea that we'll be making a loss," the girl said casually, beaming at a white-clad passer-by who waved to catch her attention, "I've put too much work into this project to have them set me back by quibbling over a million dollars here and there. Perhaps I can impress upon them that this is an investment, and that the regeneration will eventually lead to profit for decades to come, but it's a pity they won't just see things my way. I certainly wish that my Grandfather had chosen less greedy partners with which to do business."

"With all due respect, my lady, would it not be easier to simply do away with them?" the ever-practical administrator suggested without the slightest hint of moral consideration, born entirely from her utter distaste for the group of individuals she was referring to.

"Then I would be no better than Wesker," her superior pointed out, "and besides, you never know, I may win them over in due course. If not I will simply buy their share in the company and send them on their way. But I appreciate your frankness on the matter and it pays to have the issue considered from two perspectives. Regardless, I will conference with them later today; I won't be travelling back to Seattle tonight just on their account."

"I will have a suite booked for you, ma'am," the brunette responded, making a note to that effect on her page, "Hunk has also asked me to pass on his best wishes, and notes that his mission has been completed successfully."

"Oh good, he had me worried for a little while," she replied, placing a hand to her chest in order to illustrate her relief, "but I suppose that is so very like him, to get the job done. And did he mention anything about that girl I've been hearing so much about?"

Reviewing the report cursorily, the older woman nodded as she located the section pertaining to the female in question. "Apparently she has been housed temporarily in a barracks near Wesker's estate and is undergoing treatment for the injuries she suffered, which are reportedly quite severe," she recounted, "Hunk notes that she seemed to accept his word on our intentions but has told him she will remain sceptical until we follow through. What did you wish to have done with her?"

"Oh, well, make her comfortable and see that she gets everything she needs while her treatment is ongoing, and then, I don't know, release her if that's what she wants," the heiress said, waving through a window that opened out onto a grassy courtyard and receiving more than a dozen reciprocations from the patients and orderlies standing or sitting on the enclosed field, "or offer her a job. I realise that working for Umbrella probably isn't her idea of honest employment, but this is a new dawn, a new company altogether. The world will have a place for people like her, people who are willing to put all that they have to the causes that they believe in, providing those causes are honest. Whatever she decides, ensure that her demands are met and facilitated. And what about dear Uncle Albert?"

"As per your instructions he was placed in cryogenic suspension and relocated to the remote island facility," the chocolate-haired female continued, regarding the correspondence before her and summarising the Umbrella agent's customarily detailed account, "there his casket was integrated into the fusion reactor built solely for the purpose of powering his stasis. The technicians confirmed that there were no faults in the freezing process and sealed him inside; the instructions we gave them were very specific, no one is to even set foot inside the facility without causing the reactor to detonate, and we ensured that there were no backdoors left by the architects or system designers. Our warnings to any governments with waters in that area were explicit; we told them that should anyone disturb that site then it would vaporise the surroundings in a three mile radius. Several have objected to such a dangerous structure, but it is doubtful that they will pursue their grievances any further, given that they do not understand the purpose of the installation. Hunk oversaw the matter himself and has included in his report that everything seemed to go as planned."

"I'm glad, and I'm sure that if Uncle James says that everything went as we intended then it did exactly that," the younger woman responded, her faith in her bodyguard and family friend absolute, "was that all?"

"As far as I can see, ma'am," the other female told her, adjusting her spectacles and poring over the list of various memorandums and other articles listed upon the palmtop resting on the pages of her journal, "all that requires your immediate attention at least."

"Excellent, I will deal with the rest later, I think," Sherry stated, rounding another corner in the expansive facility and spying a lab-coat wearing male with receding grey hair standing with his back turned to her as he stood speaking with one of the white-clad denizens of his facility. Her expression split into a wide grin and she lifted her hands to cup her mouth, before calling out "Uncle Adrian", ensuring to elongate each syllable. When he turned to acknowledge the call he was already smiling, watching her as she bore down on him and thrust herself forwards to hug into his chest, wrapping her arms under his and around his back before lacing them there. He chuckled for a moment, looking down at her fondly, before reciprocating the motion. The dark-haired assistant approached at her usual pace, rolling her eyes in good-natured exasperation and exchanging a sympathetic glance with the scientist. Even with her sudden transformation into a respectable and mature businesswoman, there were still aspects of the young and impressionable girl that bled through to make her seem entirely inappropriate as the corporation's chairperson.

"Wonderful to see you as always, my dear," Doctor Lovette greeted, before turning to the auburn-haired woman dressed in white whom he had been addressing previously, "might we continue this later?"

"No problem," the only one of the three females to be a patient at the facility said, nodding reassuringly and glancing at the mop of blonde hair that was pressed against the older male's torso with a smile, "I'll catch you later, Doc."

With that, the individual turned and moved away, leaving the institute's overseer and leading physician to entertain his guests. Sherry was eventually coaxed out of her embrace and set about adjusting her ruffled suit and tresses. Her other, more demure self, might have muttered a thousand apologies for that outburst, but in her current state she could see no reason why those would be necessary. Here was a man whom she had not seen in quite some time, and for whom she possessed considerable affection in that they were akin to family; in her opinion there was nothing to keep her from expressing that fondness openly.

"How are you, Uncle?" she asked eagerly, beaming at him as she did so.

"Quite well, thank you," the centre's director informed her, "I was informed of your arrival and was looking forward to welcoming you, though I received a correspondence from you several days ago that I wished to speak with you about."

"Oh no, I'm sorry," the blonde exclaimed with a sudden gasp, reverting instantaneously to her former self, "I mean, I had wanted to tell you for so long about what was going on, but I couldn't do that with the situation being as fragile as it was, and I know that's no excuse, but as soon as everything came to a head I wanted to sit down and explain it all to you, but everything's just been so busy organising the Board members and appointing the new President and transferring all of the money from T-virus research into Daylight production, and its just been such a mess. So I sent you a letter, and I know that's just so very formal and its not really a substitute for the opportunity to just sit down and talk, but it was the only way I could think of to really let you know that it mattered what you thought and that I hoped you didn't hate me for using you like I did and now..."

She paused when the older man finally placed his hands upon her shoulders in a reassuring motion, looking up at him with her bottom lip trembling as her monologue came to a halt. He smiled and shook his head in a display of fondness. "Do not concern yourself, Sherry, it is really nothing to worry about," he told her, "I have always been an easy man to be deceived, if not because I do not see the motives of those around me then because I wish to see the best in those motives when there may be no good at all. I am glad that unfortunate tendency towards naivety of mine has yielded a positive result for once."

"Then..." the female began, her eyes glistening as she tried not to let them water, "you don't hate me?"

"Of course not, my girl," he assured, squeezing her shoulders earnestly, which seemed to have a resoundingly positive impact on her. She heaved a sigh of relief and lifted her hand to gently rub at the corners of her eyes. Fortunately, as she was not wearing any cosmetics, she was not smudging mascara with that action.

"I think everything may be working out for the best then," she commented to the room in general rather than just to him, "I really am so sorry though. I really didn't want to deceive anyone, let alone you of all people."

"You are forgiven; I understand the necessity behind your actions and appreciate that you are being so forthright with me in the aftermath," the neurologist told her, removing his hands from her form and placing them at his side, "I must say that I am quite awed at the web of intrigue you have spun over the last year, however. It seems like such an incredible undertaking; to ally with the President in the reformation of S.T.A.R.S merely as a means to distract Wesker from your machinations and finally bring about the opportunity to wrest control of the company from him, and in the process, seal him away so that he may never hurt another person ever again. It is even more impressive a feat now that I look back upon it and realise how ignorant I was of what was happening around me, while you orchestrated this situation in its entirety. Had you not encouraged me to approach the Board with my concerns about Albert then this final sequence of events would never have been realised."

"If it had been my choice then I would not have involved President Graham or the men and women from S.T.A.R.S in this, but even on his deathbed my Grandfather still considered the end to justify the means and at the time I didn't consider myself ready to take on the responsibilities he entrusted me with," the chairwoman of Umbrella Incorporated said with a degree of regret evident in her voice, "I wish I had taken on the tasks sooner and found my own way; it might have saved so many lives. Still, Wesker has been removed from power and I have been placed in a position to do some good in the world, though admittedly unbeknownst to my colleagues on the Board of Directors."

"I believe it would be best if they continued to believe themselves the ones to have signed Albert's death warrant, it should keep them in line for some time," he replied, "though I am surprised to hear that the late Lord Spencer was involved in this affair, my dear. I had always believed him to be quite fond of Albert."

"He considered Wesker to be his greatest mistake," the blonde informed him solemnly, "he told me as much before he died. He encouraged me to use his apparent grudge against the S.T.A.R.S organisation to distract him long enough that I would be able to make preparations for him to be removed from the picture. That task seems to have been achieved, though admittedly in a rather unforeseen manner. I can't bring myself to order his destruction, but he may as well be dead for all the chance he has of escaping. And as much as it pains me to say it, I believe that may be the only way to curb his rampantly destructive nature and build a better place for those that yet remain. If this world is to have peace then Wesker cannot be a part of it."

"Yes, I believe you may be correct," Adrian agreed, nodding, "a pity, certainly, though I wonder if you would mind telling me how you became aware of Albert's nature to begin with."

"Grandfather told me, and I suspect that he may have known for quite some time that Wesker was a terrible human being; I dread to think of what might have transpired had he not told me of what was occurring in his dying moments," the ebony-clad executive told him, before gesturing to the older woman standing beside her, "I suspect that even with that intuition I would have been unable to successfully oppose his administration without the help of Jemima here."

"I believe I remember you," the neurologist mused, fixing the grim-faced administrator with an appraising look, "were you not once a member of Albert's staff?"

"He killed my brother's fiancée almost two years ago," she replied bluntly, evidently feeling an overwhelming amount of bitterness in regards to that particular recollection, "the three of us were very close. When he joined S.T.A.R.S during its reformation, I had been working for Umbrella and had found myself in his employ. Originally I had intended to simply betray him to the organisation, but he made it abundantly clear very quickly that it would be a losing battle for them. I was unsure how to proceed until he introduced me to Lady Spencer and attempted to use me to influence her. She explained her situation to me and..."

"And we became the best of friends," Sherry announced, placing an arm around the shoulders of her secretary and smiling happily. The dour expression on the brunette's face was almost enough to make the lab coat-wearing physician chuckle, though he suppressed the impulse when he realised that the bespectacled female was not amused in the slightest.

"I relayed Wesker's instructions to Lady Spencer, and fed him false information about her own activities, allowing her to take sufficient steps to remove him from the picture," she continued, before the hardness of her features faded slightly, "but with my brother now dead and my original task having been completed, I am not averse to the thought of continuing in my current capacity."

"I must say that I am glad to hear that, my dear," Doctor Lovette responded with a smile, "Lady Spencer has a lot of work ahead of her and I am certain she could use all of the assistance you could possibly render. The more honest and decent people she gathers about her, the more likely she is to succeed in her intentions."

"I'm glad to have you with me, Jemima," the blonde asserted, moving her second arm around the other woman's torso and embracing her tightly. In spite of her composed nature, the dark-haired female was unable to prevent herself from flushing slightly at the sudden, overwhelming affection that was being conveyed.

"I was wondering, my girl," the male began, once the younger individual that he was addressing had released her subordinate, "whether you had intended to visit your sister while you were here. Her treatment has reached its completion and she has been asking after you for several weeks now."

"Oh yes, Uncle, of course," the youth insisted, almost forcefully in her happiness at having been reminded of something, and someone, that evidently meant the world to her, "I would have visited her long ago had this matter not required my immediate attention, but I am glad to hear that she is better now, and that I can speak with her again after so long. I should make my apologies and let her know what I've been doing while I've been away."

"I am sure she will appreciate that," Adrian said, with a nod.

"I wasn't aware that you had a sister, Lady Spencer," the aide commented, adjusting her spectacles upon the bridge of her nose with an air of vexation.

"Does it surprise you that I have secrets, Jemima?" the Umbrella chairwoman asked, momentarily adopting a sly upturn to her smile that was as much an admonition to never underestimate her as it was simply a moment of self-satisfaction at being able to surprise the otherwise exceptionally self-possessed older female.

"She is waiting for you in her usual room," the greying man told her, to which she beamed gratefully and turned to head in the direction of the suite he had informed her of, knowing its location by heart already. Even with her upright posture and sharply-creased business suit it was evident in her behaviour that there was still something of the little girl she had previously been, and at current she seemed an amalgamation of the professional executive and inexperienced heiress that made up her dual façade for holding power. Her elders watched her move down the corridor and out of sight, a noticeable spring in her step.

"I worry," Jemima Grey uttered after a moment of silence, a sentiment that earned her the attention of the male standing beside her, who regarded her curiously. She turned her framed eyes to confront his, giving him a sternly serious look that was usually never absent from her features, but which seemed to labour under whatever it was that was currently on her mind. "If people ever learn that she is not as naïve as she seems," she continued, "then they may try to remove her forcefully."

"Then all we can do is offer her our support and assistance where it is necessary, and never tell another soul about this secret that we have been entrusted with," he replied, his voice taking on a sombre edge, "beyond that, it is all in her hands now."

-

In spite of its simplicity, the room occupied by Sherry's sister could not have been distinguished as the chamber of an institutionalised woman based upon its appearance alone. The single bed was neatly made with soft, red sheets and the earthy brown of the carpet was luxurious beneath bare feet. There was a desk in the opposite corner laden with scraps of paper and a vast array of writing implements. Nailed to the wall beside it was a notice board, on which was pinned dozens of coloured and monochrome sketches, realised with unmistakable talent, in such detail it would make an experienced artisan tug at his hair in frustration. Drawings of yawning landscapes filled with craggy ashen peaks topped with snow, gorgeous green forests spanning their edges and sparkling blue streams weaving amongst them, lit by dazzling sunlight from bright orbs that drifted gently amid feathery, insubstantial clouds hung alongside smaller depictions of single objects such as trees, animals, insects and other human beings, their predominant theme always vitality. The trees were always in bloom, the butterflies always alight with colour, and the people always smiling and happy. Fresh, golden light streamed in through the bay windows, swathes of it segmented by the square panes softly illuminating the sole, dark-haired occupant as she sat upon a leather couch at the room's centre, clad in a casual white t-shirt and jeans, her straight, chestnut tresses tied back in a simple ponytail. Her legs were folded under her and her head was bowed over a particularly complex drawing of a cherry tree, its branches producing a flourish of pink blossoms that were drifting on the wind to float atop the surface of a lake, whose surface was crystal azure. She chewed compulsively on her thumbnail as she painstakingly coloured each individual petal, so engrossed in her work that she did not notice the presence of a second person in her sanctum.

"Claire!" the young Lady Spencer called cheerfully, drawing the older woman's attention from the task at hand. The brunette looked up, smiling broadly as she noticed that her younger sister had finally come to visit her again.

"Sis," she said, setting down her sketch pad and pencils, her determination to complete her artwork now completely forgotten. Hopping up from her seat, the patient closed the distance between them quickly and wrapped her arms around the blonde's torso, hugging her close. As the shorter of the two, Sherry lifted her own limbs to lace around her sibling's lower back.

"It's so good to see you," the youth told her, resting her head against the other female's chest and closing her eyes contentedly.

"Sherry?" the woman asked, frowning slightly at the tone of the girl's voice, before drawing away slightly and looking down at her face, watching as two beads of water gently traced the rounded curve of her cheeks, "why are you crying?"

"I just ... missed you so much," she responded, pulling herself close again and prompting the more mature of the pair to place an affectionate hand to the back of her head to gently cradle her as they continued to embrace. After a moment, they separated once again, the fair-haired aristocrat smiling up at the room's owner and sniffing back her happy tears.

For the individual who had once been Sherry Birkin, there were no true family members left. Her father and mother had both been taken by the disaster in Raccoon City, and her Grandfather had been poisoned by Wesker in order to thrust her into a position of responsibility that he deemed her unready for and make her open to his subtle manipulations. Those that remained were family in name only; Wesker, her father's adoptive brother, Adrian, a man who had been instrumental in her education and in helping her retain her innocence in spite of what her Grandfather had attempted to teach her, and Hunk who had served as her guardian since her early teens. Though she and Claire were not related by blood either there was no one whom she was closer to and the blonde considered it extremely fortunate that they had been reunited even after all this time. Had this institute's owner not appropriated the dark-haired woman from the Umbrella prison where she had been held for several long years then it was unlikely that they would ever have seen each other again. It had hurt the young heiress immensely to know that Wesker had brought about the demise of that female's own family as well, and she had asked Doctor Lovette to do his best to relieve her of those bitter and hurtful memories. He had taken an extra step and altered her vision of the past to include Sherry as her younger sister, something which had caused the both of them an untold degree of happiness; despite the falsity of that relationship the affection between the two of them was very much real.

"I missed you too," Claire told her, leaning forward and placing her lips gently to the girl's forehead, "why don't you sit down and tell me what you've been getting up to."

"Oh, well..." the Umbrella chairwoman replied, as she allowed herself to be steered to the couch, using her right hand to wipe away the streaks of damp from her face, "its just been so busy recently, people to talk to, paperwork to do, plans to oversee. I have some really good ideas once everything's running smoothly again: fair trade negotiations for the third world, minimum wage for our workers in those countries and negotiations with other companies to ensure that they take on the same standards. I've been put in a position that lets me do things like that, and it just seems silly not to if I can."

"You've grown up, sis," the brunette commented, smiling fondly, "I'm proud of you."

The girl flushed, placing her hands to her cheeks almost as though she were trying to hide it from the other woman, if only because the compliment had made her feel self-conscious. "I'm so glad," she asserted, before moving her fingers to clasp those of her sibling's right hand, "you wouldn't ever let anything happen to me would you, Claire?"

"Of course not," her companion insisted, gripping the bundle of digits between them with her free hand tightly to express the sincerity of her words, "I mean, I'm sorry I got sick and everything, and was away for so long while I got better, but now I'm alright and I can look after you from now on. Hey, Raccoon City, remember? I came to save you then and I can do it again."

"You did," the blonde agreed, before turning her body gently to the side and lying down to place her head gently on her sister's lap, kicking off her designer shoes and curling her feet under her on the couch, as was something of a custom for them, "you were so cool."

"I wouldn't let anything happen to my sis," she stated, stroking the flaxen tresses cascading across her upper thighs in a motion that caused the younger female to sigh happily, relaxing now that she was in as safe a place as she could imagine.

"Thank you," Lady Spencer whispered, and closed her eyes.

Eyes that were cat-like slits ringed with red and gold.