Great time to think about it, now that you're pretty much committed, his mind whispered sarcastically. Maybe you could just ask them to drop you off in London or something, you could hang out in a pub until they're all finished… or dead. Leon told himself to shut up, sighing a little. He was committed; what Umbrella had been doing wasn't just criminal, it was evil – or at least as close to evil as some money-grubbing corporate dickheads could get. They'd murdered thousands, created bioweapons ca– pable of murdering billions, wiped out his carefully planned future and been responsible for the death of Ada Wong, a woman he'd respected and liked. They'd helped each other through some rough spots on that terrible night in Raccoon; without her, he never would have gotten out alive. He believed in what David and his people were doing, and it wasn't that he was afraid, that wasn't it at all… Leon sighed again. He'd given the matter a hell of a lot of thought since he and Claire and Sherry had stumbled away from the burning city, and the only real reason he could come up with was so stupid that he didn't want to credit it. Standing against Umbrella was the right thing to do – it was that he didn't feel qualified to be there.

Yep, that's pretty stupid.

Maybe it was, but it was holding him back, mak– ing him feel uncertain, and he needed to examine it.

David Trapp had made a career of the S.T.A.R.S., only to watch the organization fall under the control of Umbrella; he'd lost two close friends on a mission to infiltrate a bioweapons testing facility, as had John Andrews. Rebecca Chambers had just been starting out in the S.T.A.R.S., but she was some kind of scientific child prodigy with a deep interest in Um– brella's work; that and the fact that she'd been through more than anyone else made her continued dedication understandable. Claire wanted to find her brother, the only family she had; their parents were dead, and the two of them were close. Chris, Jill, and Barry he'd never met, but he was sure they had compelling reasons of their own; he knew Barry Burton's wife and children had been threatened, Rebecca had mentioned it… And what about Leon Kennedy? He'd stumbled into the fight without a clue, a cop fresh out of the academy on his way to his first day at work – which just happened to be with the Raccoon PD. There was Ada, true – but he'd known her less than half a day, and she had been killed just after admitting to him that she was some kind of an agent, sent to steal a sample of an Umbrella virus.

So I lost a job, and a possible relationship with a woman I barely knew and couldn't trust. Of course Umbrella should be stopped… but do I belong here?

He'd decided to become a cop because he wanted to help people, but he'd always figured that meant keeping the peace – busting drunk drivers, breaking up bar fights, catching crooks. Never in his wild-est dreams would he have figured on being caught up in an international conspiracy, cloak-and-dagger infiltration-type stuff against a giant company that made war monsters. It was crime on a much bigger scale than he felt he was ready for…… and is that the real reason, Officer Kennedy? At exactly that moment, Claire mumbled some– thing from her light doze, nuzzling her head against his arm before falling silent and still again – and making Leon uncomfortably aware of another facet to his involvement with the ex-S.T.A.R.S. Claire. Claire was… she was an incredible woman. In the days after their escape from Raccoon City, they'd talked a lot about what had happened, the experiences they'd had both separately and together. At the time, it had felt like an exchange of information, filling in blanks – she'd told him about her run-in with Chief Irons and the creature she'd called Mr. X, and he'd told her all about Ada and the terrible thing that had once been William Birkin. Between them, they'd been able to come up with a continuous story, with infor– mation that was important to the fugitive team. In retrospect, though, he could see that those long, rambling conversations had been essential for an– other reason entirely – they'd been a way to leach out the poison of what had happened to them, like talking out a bad dream. If he'd had to keep it all inside, he thought, he might have gone crazy. In any case, the feelings he had for her now were convoluted ones – warmth, connection, dependence, respect, others that he had no name for. And that scared him, because he'd never felt so strongly about anyone before and because he wasn't sure how much of it was real and how much was just some kind of a post-traumatic stress thing.

Face it, stop bullshitting yourself. What you're really afraid of is that you're only here because she is, and you don't like what that says about you.

Leon nodded inwardly, realizing that it was the truth, the real reason behind his uncertainty. He'd always believed that want was okay, but need? He didn't like the idea of being led around by some neurotic compulsion to be close to Claire Redfield.

And what if it isn't need? Maybe it's want, and you just don't know it yet…

He scowled at his own pathetic attempts at self– analysis, deciding that maybe it would be best just to stop worrying about it so much. Whatever the reason for becoming involved, he was involved – he could kick ass with the best of them and Umbrella deserved to have their ass kicked, big time. For now, he had to pee, and then he was going to eat something and do his best to catch some sleep. Leon gently moved out from beneath Claire's warm, heavy head, doing his best not to wake her up. He slid out into the aisle, glancing around at the others. Rebecca was staring out her window, John was flipping through a muscle mag, David was dozing. They were all good people, and thinking that made him feel a little easier about things.

They're the good guys. Hell, I'm a good guy, fighting for truth, justice, and fewer viral zombies in the world…

The bathroom was in the front. Leon started to– ward it, steadying himself by touching each seat as he passed, thinking that the steady drone of the plane's engine was a soothing sound, like a waterfall -

–and then the curtain at the front of the cabin was pushed open, and a man stepped out, a tall, smiling man in an expensive-looking trench coat. He wasn't the pilot, and there wasn't anyone else on the plane, and Leon felt his mouth go dry with an almost superstitious dread even though the thin, smiling man didn't seem to be armed. "Hey!" Leon shouted, backing up a step. "Hey, we got company!" The man grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Leon Ken-nedy, I presume," he said softly, and Leon was suddenly absolutely sure that whoever he was, this man was trouble with a capital "T."

THREE

JOHN WAS ON HIS FEET BEFORE LEON HAD finished his warning, hopping out into the aisle and stepping in front of Leon in a single stride. "Who the hell…" John snarled, his shoulders set, ready to break the thin mam in two if he so much as blinked wrong. The stranger held up pale, long-fingered hands, looking as though he could barely contain his de– light – which made John all the more wary. He could easily pound the guy into hamburger, what the hell was he so happy about? "And you're John Andrews," the man said, his voice low and calm and as pleased as his expression.

"Formerly a communications expert and field scout for the Exeter S.T.A.R.S. It's so good to meet you -

–tell me, how are your ribs? Still tender?" Shit. Who is this guy? John had broken two ribs and cracked a third on the cove mission, and didn't know this man – how the hell did this man know him? "My name is Trent," the stranger said easily, nod– ding at both Leon and John. "I believe your Mr. Trapp can vouch for my identity…?"

John flicked a glance back, saw that David and the girls were right behind them. David gave a quick nod, his expression strained.