Separation, England, 1976

“Albert?!” Alex called, running up the stairs of the manor, her steps rapid, but delicate, an envelope clutched in her pale hand. She had just gotten the tickets for her ballet performance. She was to perform at the big recital hall in two weeks, she’d been working so hard to get it perfect...and the tickets had finally gotten there! “Albert! They’re here! You’ll be right up front for my performance!” She was doing a variation from Don Quixote, the most technically difficult piece she’d ever done. She was so excited, she’d gotten permission for him to go along!

Her loose blonde hair fell around her face in waves when she stopped at the head of the stairs, having come loose from her bun. Where was he? He wasn’t set to be in classes...perhaps he was out back? He liked to run the course in his spare time. Sometimes she’d read in the shade of one of the tress and keep his times for him in a little notebook.

She frowned...and turned to pad back down the stairs, heading out into the expansive grounds that their home was situated on. Part mansion, part school, part medical facility, the place was huge. Especially considering it had originally been designed to house thirteen of the best and brightest of the future of Umbrella. Now that they were the only two left, the place was massive. They’d all played hide and seek as a child, making Hans count and come find them.

Alex had always hid with Albert, the pair of them in the same room, splitting their spots so that one could be a distraction for the other if needed. She had always burst out and run before he could be found, though. They didn’t play such childish games any more, but they were one of the fonder memories that she had of them when they had all been together, before the deaths had started. She couldn’t remember all of their faces anymore...just lots of blonde hair and big blue eyes.

The back yard, was almost a forest in parts, but the obstacle course was clustered in a few acres, wouldn’t be too hard to get to. She kept hold of the envelope and searched for him there.

He wasn’t there.

She checked the firing range, the library, the dining room, the kitchen, the medical bay.

He wasn’t anywhere.

It took her two hours before she headed back to his room in defeat, her earlier excitement turning into frustration. He had bested her at his impromptu game of hide and seek...and she was not pleased about it. “Albert! How did you managed to get—“ she said as she opened the door to his room without knocking, her bun having come utterly loose in her search.

His room was empty.

“Wha—“ she said, her emotions swinging wildly away from her control and into extreme panic and fear in the span of two heartbeats. No, he hadn’t been sick...they all got sick before they died! It was never this quick! She’d been sick for weeks before...he’d been here this morning! She’d said she’d see him later when she got back from the tailors for...for her costume.

He’d said he’d be here.

Now he wasn’t....what had happened?!?

She didn’t even realize she was crying as she headed back towards the front door. Only to see Lord Spencer standing there, unbuttoning his suit jacket and looking at her disheveled state with utter contempt on his face. “You’re a mess, Alexandra. Put yourself together and meet me for dinner in twenty minutes.” The tone in his voice was scathing, and she immediately went still, her whole being coiling back in on itself like she’d been burned. She nodded, and turned to run—walk back upstairs.

When she got up there, she went back to her room, putting the crumpled envelope in the drawer of her vanity and closing it softly. Her panic had ruined the ticket inside, she knew...and that cracked her again. She pressed at it compulsively, trying to smooth out the damage she’d done, her jaw clenching tight in attempts not to cry again. She’d ruined it. She’d...she’d ruined it.

Eventually her mind screamed at her that she needed to get downstairs and she looked at the mirror as if her head had been yanked up by a string. Her posture totally stiff, proper, as she’d been trained with her jaw parallel to the floor. Mechanical. Fake. Unreal.

Alex sank back into her unreality for a moment, letting it wash over her and calm the raging storm that kept threatening to spill out of her in a torrent. After precisely one blink, one moment of utter stillness she began to get herself back together, patting dry her face. Then she quickly picked out a suitable dress and put it on, zipping it up and then putting her face back to rights, a little foundation.

Lord Spencer didn’t like her too made up, but she had gotten blotchy with her crying and she needed to smooth that out. Her hair was resorted into a tight bun, pulled back tight enough she felt it may rip itself out of her scalp if she sneezed. After a light bit of gloss, she stood...and headed back down to dinner.

Dinner with the man....who...dinner with their father and their benefactor.

Her steps were silent and her posture was perfect as she came into the dining room, Spencer already sitting at the head of the table. She walked to her chair and waited for his nod. It took five whole minutes of him examining her, his gaze going lecherous by the end, but nothing so obvious that someone else would see, no, but she could see it. He was trying to crack her again. She wouldn’t break this time.

This was a test, and she was very good at tests.

After she seemingly passed her test, he nodded and she sat down without a word, expertly sitting, with her hands folded in her lap as she turned to look at him, her face serene and placid. The face of the ballerina, grace and poise. A still pond. “Lord Spencer, to what do we owe this visit?” She asked, not catching that she had referred to both of them before the words were out of her mouth.

She’d gotten so used to them.

“Well, it seemed a shame to waste a meal for two if only one of you was going to be eating. Your brother won’t be joining us. He’s been shifted to another location, he’s going to work with some of our other best and brightest on a secret project.” As he spoke, the staff brought in dinner and set it on plates before them, pulling the covers off. A beautiful pasta dish. Not a full set of courses this time, since the meal had been planned for just the two siblings. They didn’t dine on ceremony when alone really.

Alex felt the world fall out from beneath her, pulled away like a rug. What/ How...how come she wasn’t going? She was...arguably more intelligent in some of the sciences than he was. Why couldn’t she go? It shifted beneath her face, showing in her eyes, as she wrangled her whirlwind back into some semblance of order. “That’s wonderful news, I’m sure he’s very pleased. He’ll do—”

“You’re not going, Alexandra. You’re not ready to be around people.” He interrupted her, her mouth snapping shut as soon as he spoke, and she nodded in response. Though it wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before...she’d picked up some bad habits over the last few years, and when she’d finally killed that teacher that had gotten Albert beaten for missing the mark on a test when they were young. It was years later, almost a full 8? But she’d done it. She’d whispered about it over supper.

Albert had smiled, and they’d talked about other things. She’d done all she could to erase every bit of it, the only time he’d cried. Alex was the crier of the two of them, but she was more volatile. Things had happened to her differently. He’d never made her feel bad about it, and it wasn’t as if she cried at the drop of a hat...she just had more than one instance of it in his presence.

Alex still hadn’t picked up a fork, because Spencer had not. ‘Liar. Liar. Liarliarliarliarliar. You promised that he could stay, if I did everything you wanted, if I was perfect. I did everything. I did everything you asked. All of it. I was your perfect little girl, I was your prized pupil. I play your beastly little games. I let you...ruin me. I let you rut on me like some disgusting thing.’ Her mind started to spin away from her again, her thoughts echoing against the frantic staccato beating of her heart. Her hands in her lap were tight fists, tearing the scars on her palms open on her sharp nails. “Well, I’m sure I can be ready in short order, if you tell me what I can improve upon.” Her tone was tight, brittle, close to fracture. She was standing on the edge of an abyss and the wind was starting to howl. She couldn’t fly, she didn’t have wings...and besides, devil’s can’t fly.

They can only fall.

“We’ll get to that, Alexandra. First...let’s have dinner before it get’s cold. We’ll discuss what you can do to improve after dinner.”

Albert never did get to see her performance of the variation from Don Quixote. Spencer had brought a board member he was wanting to impress instead.

She had been perfect all the same, but she never performed in front of an audience again.