We wonder, essentially, when something comes out – exactly what we're in store for. So this little tale, maybe not more than a few chapters, is going to take us on a journey as we attempt to break down –bust up – and destroy that trailer floating around on the internet all about 6.

Let's see what I'm thinking.

For the record – I don't own Biohazard, Resident Evil, Albert Wesker or anybody else. If I did, I would likely rule the world. I don't pretend to know much about tactical operations, appropriate use of guns, legitimate practice of virology or anything concerning DNA. I'm no scientist, not a doctor, not a soldier and certainly not a megalomaniac. What I am is an author, a weaver of tales, and a girl with a healthy appetite for hot men saving the world. If you feel offended, disappointed, bored or the need to correct me on which position a man would most likely have held a gun – used a fist or been sickened by a virus: remember that I don't claim to be right, I just want to have fun. And I like constructive reviews but I will delete, ignore, and laugh off flames. So with that being said – I love everyone who bothers to read this crap and likes it.

:In Dreams and Waking:

It was amazing to find myself here…the two of us. Friends without limits who'd somehow, someway kept each other from the brink when the other was just about to give up.

What had brought us here? Here to this moment where we were staring down the barrel of a gun at each other…

What else?

A woman.

"I need her alive!"

"But she's the one who caused all of this!"

"What's it going to be? You willing to shoot me? Here and now? It's more complicated than you think!"

"You've got three seconds to step aside?"

"…I can't do that."

Time loses meaning in moments like this. When the universe slows down to a handful of seconds that could be life time.

I heard her scream. I heard the gun go off.

His? Mine? Whos?

And then the darkness took it all away.

CHAPTER ONE:

The dream brought the blue of his eyes open to stare sightlessly at the dull white wash of the hotel wall.

He'd never be quite sure when he started to lose faith.

It may have been after Raccoon City – when the boy that had entered that god forsaken necropolis had been forced to face his demons, real and super natural, and had come out a man.

It may have been the nightmares – that plagued and perforated any hope of normalcy in the months and years afterward. Those savage times that had taken the cop and created a killer, paid and sanctioned by the god ol' US of A.

It may have been the moment he'd set foot in Spain – and spent the next few weeks infected with an agent of global terrorism – abandoned by the country he'd sworn to serve in a fruitless and perilous effort to save the President's ungrateful progeny.

Somewhere along the way he, he'd lost hope and all the faith he'd had in good winning the age old race against evil had fled along with his sense of humor. And that wasn't mentioning his ability to sleep. The nightmares cropped in, rose up, and ate away his rest until only insomnia remained. And that was a poor companion to a man seeking some kind of salvation.

He'd found his answer in the bottle for awhile. At the base of a bottle of Remy Martin or the last dregs of a fifth of whiskey there'd been, if not answers, then peace. When the liquor had dried up and the break down averted – he'd simply gone back to work. The job was never dirty enough, never hard enough, and never long enough. Because he was good, he just was. Good at the job.

He was flawless in his skill. Lethal in his training. The blonde golden boy from Connecticut was a warrior. With an IQ given to him by the Ivy Leagues and a body earned through training and discipline. He was a hero- for all of the hollowness that word evoked when spoken.

A hero.

And he'd never felt more alone.

The whirring of fan blades above his bed held his attention and the dull red glow of the alarm clock on his nightstand shouted the hour into the darkness. 3:10. 10 minutes passed the witching hour. He'd slept perhaps a fraction of the time between midnight and now. The dreams chased him – offering no quarter when he was more than ready to lay down his arms and rest.

It was the creaking of the floor boards that had him bolting up in bed – the smoothness of the sheet sliding down over the pale perfection of his chest to pool at his waist. The shiny pistol in his hand gleamed a dull silver in the trickle of moonlight from beyond the blinds of his bedroom window.

In the streets below – a low voice was shouting above the din of city never sleeping. Taxis waging an endless nocturnal war with the masses still too restless to take their night life home. A blinking light from a broken gas station across the way reflected blue and gold through the parted slats of the window, offering a razor like effect of color across his smooth chest.

It was a good chest, honed and hard from rigorous exercise. It was marred only by the dull white of lifted claw marks that twisted off to one side and the shiny pink left behind of a bullet wound long healed in his shoulder. The markings of a hero…the makings of a man.

She'd never forget the sight of him there – so handsome, so dangerous. And that gun trained on her with an accuracy he shouldn't have had in the darkness or at this time of night. One leg was looped out from under the sheets pooled over him, showing fine muscular thigh and calve and the suggestion of one naked hip.

She leaned on the door jamb, watching him, and let her smile fill the darkness between them.

"Seems cruel to shoot a woman for looking."

"Most women don't break into a man's hotel room just to look." He shifted the gun and cocked his head at her, offering her a view of that perfect hair as it fell blonde and soft into his left eye. "What do you want, Ada?"

It was going to be hard for her to explain to him. There were so many things she wanted to say. So many ways she wanted to …what? Apologize? Maybe. But for what?

If only she could begin to make him understand.

She shouldn't be here. Things were hanging precariously in the balance as it was. She was risking everything by showing up here. But when…when it all went down – by god she wanted him to know enough to stay alive. Stay alive, Leon, she thought harshly, stay alive.

Or everything I've done has been for nothing. I need you alive…I need you…the game doesn't play without the check mate. And no chess set is complete without the knight.

"Tomorrow you have the press conference in Tall Oaks."

"So?"

"Ask the President about the Replica Project."

"The what?"

"Ask him about RePo, Leon. And about Carla."

Leon shifted a little as she started to turn. "Ada! Wait."

"I have to go."

It would later enter her mind that he'd improved. He'd gotten faster…or better since she'd last seen him in Spain. It was the only way he could have caught her arm before she left the room. How else could he have gotten out of that bed and crossed the room without so much as a whisper of movement?

He spun her around and pressed her against the wall. The cool metal of his weapon lay against her chest, aimed competently at her delicate chin.

"Shooting me won't change anything, Leon."

"You can't just creep in and make a remark like that and disappear again, Ada. I'm tired of playing your games."

Ada tilted her head and smiled a little. "Then shoot me. Maybe it'll be better for all of us if you do."

"See? Who the hell talks like that?" Frustrated, he pulled her a little away from the wall and pushed her back again. It was just hard enough to steal her breath. "What do you want from me, Ada?"

It was a good question. She'd spent the better part of fifteen years trying to find the answer to that question herself.

"Answer me."

"I don't have an answer. Let me go, Leon."

"Damnit Ada…"

"Let me go or shoot me. Those are your options."

He shook his head and tossed the pistol in his hand away. She watched it flip and bounce onto the mattress of the bed. His free hand tunneled into her hair and tilted her face back until she was looking upward into his eyes.

"Those aren't the only options."

The attraction blazed fast and furious there between them. It had, always, since the dawn of time. She'd let it brew in her blood like something evil. Always let it taunt and tease her…and never let it do more than tempt. Like the darkness, like a whisper…tempting her. And taunting them both.

Her heart beat hard in her chest. She saw herself reflected in the clear blue of his eyes. And she knew, as he did, that they'd been dancing around this moment since that first and only kiss in the sewer labs in Raccoon City.

"It won't change anything, Leon. I'll still be me."

"I know." He sounded like it caused him pain to say it and she hated herself and him a little for making her care enough about him that she didn't want him to hurt. "Damnit, Ada. I know."

Her hands mounted up his back and gripped hard, fast, thick handfuls of muscle there. His breath hissed out and his mouth came down even as hers rose – closing the distance until they met in a smash and blend of lips and teeth.

She'd wanted…as long as he had. They'd danced here, there, around it forever. Always. She let her hands touch him, feel him, as she'd yearned to do for so long. Down the curve of his spine and over the muscled swell of his ass. His hands shifted to rip open the silky red of her shirt – buttons pinging and popping as they were rested from their fabric.

Her long nails dug into the muscle of him and scraped his hot skin as their tongues dueled wetly for control. There was the loud rip of cloth that signaled the bearing of one of her breasts from her lacy brassiere. Her hands were manacled over her head against the wall as he took her aching nipple into his mouth and feasted.

Ada bowed, gasped, even as his hand moved between her legs. Silky thigh highs topped by sexy black lace – the whisper of garters and a swatch of black satin that was her panties. She felt a brief moment where she wanted to stop him – wanted to urge him on – and his fingers slid past that tiny barrier and filled her.

Her cry was little more than a gasp of hot air and Leon felt the hunger in his blood boil until there was nothing left of him but a beast. A rutting, hungry thing that had to have her. Had to have this.

The sound of satin ripping was like flesh being torn. It was nearly a human sound. Ada jerked in his arms and felt the tight black of her skirt being jerked up and bunched at her hips. Her eyes opened, his fixed on them. And both pairs held there for a long, long moment as they shared a slow, wet kiss.

He knew and she knew that this was it, their one last chance to turn away. To turn back. To say no. Don't. Stop.

Her right leg lifted and wrapped, thigh to hip and there was no more no. No more stop. She felt the hard length of him throb at the core of her body and knew she couldn't say no. Hadn't ever been able to say no. He was probably the one man she'd always covet and never really own. But here…here…in this moment…they could take each other.

Leon held her manacled wrists and took her mouth. It was wet and wonderful, hot and ripe. She tasted like the damnation he'd spent so long trying to fight. And he took her scream into his mouth as he thrust himself inside of her, fast and deep. There was the wet, meaty slap of skin to skin and his own grunt of satisfaction that filled her mouth in answer.

He rode her, answering each push of her hips with a slam of his own. There was nothing in the darkness but their breathing and the slickness of sweaty skin against sweaty skin. The glove of her body possessed him, stretching and taking each desperate thrust into her like they'd been made to mate.

At some point they fell onto the bed – her above him and then below. Her around him and him inside. The sheets tangled about them and their bodies filling the darkness with so many things, so long left unsaid.

Her hands gripped the headboard, her ass cradled in curve of his body as he took her on his knees with her legs splayed open and around his hips, lifting and thrusting as if he'd try to mate more than bodies with her. And when she came apart in his arms – he took her scream inside him and fucked her. He shivered over her – spurting sticky and wet inside of her until there was nothing left of him. But them.

She gathered him in to her as his arms bound her against the rapid roll of his heart and the matching pants of their breathing. His cheek to her chest, her hands tunneled through the soft, sweaty perfection of his expertly tousled hair. The whiteness of her skin was lovely against the golden tan of his as they lay amongst the sheets – relearning how to breathe.

He tried to find the romance of it and couldn't. Couldn't. It was simply a volcano, for both of them, that had boiled and burned and burst from flesh with mouths and mounting need. He licked one of her trembling nipples as it taunted him prettily beside his cheek and she shivered, cupping him against her with a low moan.

He knew, as he'd always known, that he loved her. Had always loved her. She was mystery and intrigue, she was bad for him, a drug…and he'd always want her. In that moment – they both knew she felt exactly the same way. Something close to peace settled over him and spilled from his mouth in a contented sigh.

It was the first time he'd slept…really slept…in almost fifteen years. With his head pillowed on her breasts.

She woke him once by riding him. The white curve of her body like a siren calling him from sleep. His hands held her hips, rocked her body as she stole his breath and his sanity. The wet want of her wrapped around him until he could do little but meet the roll and rock of her body above him. His hands on her breasts and gliding up her back…hers in his hair or on his thighs as she arched back..back…and bared the taste of her torso to his desperately seeking mouth.

It was a facile and fluent fuck. A language all it's own. And Ada Wong spoke lover like it was her first language. He could do little but let her lead him where she wanted him to go.

The daylight brought with it the emptiness of his bed. If he hadn't been able to smell her all around him, all over him…he might have thought he'd dreamed her. And this.

But the cocktail napkin on his nightstand and the bold red kiss there told him she'd been real. And he wondered…as he often did…if he'd ever see her again.

With the taste of her, like that lipstick print, still raw and wet on his mouth…he knew he'd never been more sure of anything in his entire life.

It still lingered in his mind the next afternoon as he sat opposite the President of the United States. Lunch with the Commander and Chief was always an over blown affair filled with tiny and elaborate food, reporters, Secret Service and details never left undone.

Lunch with Adam, however, was simply sandwiches over the pool table at the Embassy Suites. Leon knew how to draw the line between the man who was his friend and the man he was sworn to protect. That line wasn't here, in this moment.

"There are things I need to tell you, Leon. You know I've always considered you a friend."

Leon shifted, studying the strongest man in the country as he leaned over and carelessly sunk the 8-ball in the corner pocket for the fourth time that day.

"Is it about Repo?"

Surprise flickered over Adam's weathered face. He flicked a finger at his face, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. This was a nervous gesture left over from being young with coke bottle lenses.

"You know about Repo? Who…"

"Doesn't matter who. What are we dealing with here, Adam?"

"You know that great pains were taken to cover up Raccoon City. And things…about that time were left in the very very dark by people who won't be happy to know I'm telling you what I'm about to tell you."

Ada settled his pool cue on the table and picked up his glass of scotch from the mahogany end table sitting close by. He sipped it delicately and rolled the crystal glass around in his hand to watch the liquid swirl.

Leon did the same, setting his glass back in it's place after a long pull.

"There were parts of Umbrella that were sanctioned by the Department of Defense."

The silence that stretched between them was long and lingering. And very very pregnant.

"You're saying that Umbrella was in our pocket."

"I'm saying Neo Umbrella was in our pocket. And when the T-Virus leaked and all that went down…we burned Umbrella to the ground. But we didn't stop the research they'd started."

"I don't understand."

"I think you do. Graham was a big supporter of genetic research. Why do you think his daughter went missing? Some of his less reputable partners weren't happy with how things were progressing on his end of the deal."

"You're telling me we what…are funding this branch of Umbrella? The same branch I've been battling since I was recruited all those years ago?"

Ada met Leon's eyes very, very slowly.

"That's what I'm saying. I'm telling you that we recruited you so we could use you."

"For what?"

"To take down the competition. To eliminate the other guy."

"And the T-Virus outbreaks? And G?"

"All counter engineered by our people to act as a cover for what we were really trying to perfect."

"….Repo."

"Yes. Reverse engineered genetic cloning with altered DNA."

"You're trying to build the perfect soldier."

"…not trying. We had the perfect soldier."

"….."

"We couldn't have predicted that he'd go crazy on us. He started to horde power. Started to hunger for it. And he was smarter, smarter than we'd anticipated. He got too god damn smart and he had to be…neutralized."

"You're talking about Albert Wesker."

"Yes. The Wesker Project. Each subject infused with different strains of DNA. Perfect clones each subtly different from the last. Some we spliced with the T and G and Veronica strains. But all were failures…except for Albert. Somehow he was survived. And thrived. Losing him was a blow that Neo Umbrella could hardly withstand…"

Leon shifted when Adam moved toward him. They were both aware of what it meant. It was subtle but clear. He was disgusted but what he was hearing. And part of him didn't want to hear it anymore. To think…he'd WASTED the last fifteen years of his life fighting a battle that was nothing more then a ruse. A ploy to take him out of the game and keep him from finding the truth…that there was no real bad guy. And no real good guy. There was just corruption. And it bled and bred in every corner of every thing he'd ever done.

"Who is Carla?"

Adam flinched.

"Who…how…how do you know about Carla?"

"Who is she?"

"A very dangerous experiment. And a very good one. And the reason I had to tell you what I'm telling you. She's gotten…loose we'll call it. And she's working on something we didn't forsee."

"What?"

"We thought Wesker was done. Finished. We figured Chris Redfield eliminated him for us. And all signs pointed to that being true."

"You telling me he's still alive?"

"No. No he's not. But part of him is."

"….what part? His hair? It always seemed to have a life of it's own."

"….it seems he was more human then we gave him credit for. Twenty six years ago he met a woman and did what we didn't think possible."

"….."

"He made a child with her. And that child…we have to find that child Leon. We need to find Wesker's child."

Leon shook his head. His brain was having trouble. Too much trouble trying to comprehend what he was hearing.

"This Carla is trying to find him too?"

"Yes. She wants him for his blood. We need him for the same reasons. But we want to make a vaccine from his blood. We need it. We've created a monster with no chance of stopping it. If Carla finds him first…she'll have what she needs to finish a prototype Neo Umbrella has been working on."

"I thought you owned Neo Umbrella."

"No. They went rogue after Wesker's death."

"So you need me to find this kid of Wesker's before Carla does."

"If you don't'…and she gets to him first…we're looking at global destruction here, Leon. With Wesker's blood…this kid is either the Messiah or the Anti-Christ…it's up to you to decide which."

"Ain't it always?"

Leon turned away, staring out into the bubbling down town streets of Tall Oaks. Typical city – sky scrapers and commerce. It was just another city in just another state. Anywhere, USA.

"Does anyone know where the kid is?"

"Last time he was spotted we sent out a scientist to try to reason with him and get him to come in to safety."

"A scientist?"

"She's familiar with how these things work. And she's been trained by the Agency. You should be familiar with her."

A manila folder lay open now on the pool table. And a face he hadn't seen in a long long time stared up at him. If you put a little extra pudge on it, filed down the sharp cheekbones and plumped up the face…changed the dark blonde hair to a shiny white blonde….

Where had he seen it before?

"Who is she?"

The lack of answer had Leon lifting his eyes. The President was grasping his chest and reeling, swaying…falling.

"Adam!"

Leon moved to catch him and the world pitched and swirled, spun. His vision split and wavered. The drink…the god damn drink…

Leon staggered and tried to grab the pool table to keep from falling. His hand slipped and he went down, racking his head roughly on the edge of the table as he did. The swirling world turned gray at the edges and he knew, even as the darkness ate the light, that when he woke up…

….everything he thought he knew would never be the same again.