Sherry wanted to run away, but knew there was nowhere she could run to. The mansion was in the middle of the woods, and it was cold outside. So she hid in the house instead, because it was really big.

She'd found an empty guest bedroom and had curled up on the bed. Sherry stared out the window opposite her; it was so dark that she could barely see the trees outside. It freaked her out a little; she didn't like darkness. Maybe it was because of Raccoon City. She'd spent so long underground, and in other dark places, that daytime had hurt her eyes when Sherry had finally seen it again.

The door creaked open. Her heart stopped. Her first instinct was to hide under the bed, so Sherry did.

A man's shoes. They were big and shiny, the kind of shoes her daddy had worn to important meetings. The kind of shoes Chief Irons had worn when she'd hidden under a table in the orphanage to hide from him.

"Sherry?"

The voice sounded familiar. It was deep, and sounded like it belonged to someone from New York City.

"G-Grayson?"

The shoes stopped in front of the bed, the narrow toes pointed toward her. "Come out from under there," Grayson said.

She did. "You left us," she said. "In Raccoon City."

"Alfred needed my help, Sherry."

"Mom died. You could have saved her."

"There's no guarantee I could have. But I wish I'd tried."

Sherry looked up at Grayson. He wore a black suit and sunglasses, even though there wasn't any sun, and a shiny silver wrist-watch. "You never came to get me," Sherry said, scowling, her hands balling into shaky fists. "You promised you'd come back to get me and mommy!" she continued, louder. "She was gonna divorce my daddy for you, you big jerk! You said it would be us, once you got back…."

"Things happened, Sherry," Grayson said. "Things I had no control over."

"It was because of Alexia, right?" Sherry yelled, and punched him in his leg. But the punch had hurt her hand more than it had seemed to hurt Grayson. She winced, rubbing her knuckles. "You finally had Alexia back, so you didn't care about us." Sherry wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at him. Then, "Mom never really mattered to you, did she? Just like Jill Valentine never mattered. That's why you were cheating on Jill to be with mommy, right? 'Cause neither of them really mattered. They weren't Alexia."

"That's not it," Grayson told her. "I loved Annette."

"But you loved Alexia more, right? So you left mommy to die in Raccoon City."

"That's—enough of this shit, Sherry. I saw you run in here. You only hide when something bad happens."

Sherry frowned, her emotions frothing into a foamy mess. She wanted to hate Grayson, but couldn't bring herself to do that. He was the closest thing to family Sherry had left, now that her parents and cousins were dead. Alexia had been one reason she'd come here, and Grayson had been the other; Sherry figured that, wherever Alexia was, Grayson wasn't too far away. He'd always been obsessed with her.

She fiddled with her hands, her knuckles still sore. "Alexia told me it was daddy's fault that he died," she said quietly, looking at the lacquered hardwood between her shoes. "Because he didn't cooperate with Umbrella."

"Alexia and William were enemies," Grayson said, and sighed like her daddy whenever he'd had a bad headache. "Of course she'd say something like that." He shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked like a giant bear, Sherry decided. "Look," he said, rubbing his knees. "Alexia's always been like that. She's not real tactful, not where it counts. She didn't hurt you, did she?"

Sherry shook her head. "I hit her, though."

"Shouldn't hit people, Sherry. But Alexia's tough, so she'll be fine."

"I'm sorry for hitting you, Grayson."

"Don't worry about it. I don't blame you for hitting me. Would've probably done the same, if I was you." Grayson stared at her. Sherry swore she could see two little red dots where his eyes should have been, like the laser-pointers her teachers had used. He reached into his blazer and took out a Polaroid photograph: her, her mommy, and Grayson, when they'd brought her to the Raccoon City Zoo for her ninth birthday. The picture had been taken outside the tiger habitat. Sherry remembered it had been really hot that day. "You should have it," he told her. "I've got a good memory. I can remember it just fine."

Sherry took the Polaroid and stared at her mom. She wore her favorite Talking Heads T-shirt, and a pair of jeans. It was one of the few photographs where her mom was actually smiling, and not just pretending to. She even wore make-up in the picture, and her mom had rarely ever worn make-up. "Does Alexia know about this?" Sherry asked.

"No," Grayson said. "She wouldn't understand."

"She'd get jealous?"

"Immensely," Grayson said, and nodded, sitting a little straighter. "I want Annette's memory to stay clean. I don't need Alexia slinging mud at it. Much as I love her, she's got the emotional control of a thirteen-year-old."

"She didn't seem very emotional," Sherry said.

"She's usually not. But when she is?" Grayson shook his head.

Sherry looked at the photograph one more time, then slipped it inside her back-pocket. "Thank you, Grayson."

"I've got other photographs like that. An album I'd started when I'd moved to Raccoon City. I'll give it to you."

"I'd really like that," Sherry said, and smiled.

Grayson nodded. "So would I." He stood, then extended his hand. "Come on. I'll get you something to eat. Then try to talk some decorum into Alexia."