Familiar Hauntings

Epilogue

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"Geez Demi, hurry it up," Devon playfully exclaimed as he waited for her to finish doing her hair. He flopped back on her bed, looking at the many posters and pictures of friends she had that lined the ceiling and walls of her room.

"Well you knew this is what would happen if you came over early!" She retorted as she peeked her head out around the corner, still curling her hair as she did so.

He laughed. "I'm twenty minutes late!"

"That's still early for me!"

He rolled his eyes and smiled. Tonight was going to be great. He had dressed up in a dark grey dress shirt, a red spotted tie, and black slacks. He had planned the evening in an attempt to help her take her mind off things that had been going on. He didn't like to see her down, so naturally he tried everything he could to cheer her up.

His attention turned from the items on the walls as Demi entered the room. She was dressed in a beautiful blue sequin spaghetti-strap dress. The dress stopped just above her knees, and it set a deep contrast with her hair, simultaneously bringing out her green eyes. Devon was speechless as he simply stared at her and shook his head stupidly, his mouth half open.

She smiled nervously as her right foot moved in front of her left anxiously. "I…don't really dress up like this a whole lot, so um, I kinda feel…"

Devon didn't even let her finish. "Good Lord Demi…You look beautiful. Wow." She cracked a smile as she took the features on his shocked face. He raised his eyebrows, still shaking his head. "Wow. I mean, that dress looks…" He chuckled a bit, somewhat amused by his own actions. "Wow."

She turned a bright shade of red as she stared at the floor beneath her feet. "Would you quit that? You know compliments aren't my thing."

He nodded slowly, as he picked himself off the bed. "Yeah, I know. Just, you should dress up like that more often. Wow." He smiled playfully as he walked forward and pulled her in an embrace. "How've you been?"

She shrugged as she breathed out her words. "I'm okay, I guess." She shook her head. "It's not exactly easy dealing with this stuff, you know?"

Devon pulled away and nodded. "Yeah, I know. But hang in there, you'll make it through." He smiled. "You always do."

She smiled again, a bit warmer this time. "So, what are the plans for tonight?"

Devon grinned deviously. "That's a surprise."

She cut her eyes playfully. "Then at least tell me what you had in mind."

He sighed. "Oh, I don't know. A little dinner, a little walk on the riverside, maybe a movie if it's not too late…Is that cool with you?"

She nodded. "Sure."

"So, it's a date then, huh?"

She laughed. "A date?"

He smiled again. "Well, since we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other, better keep close ties, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

He intently gazed upon her for a few seconds before saying, "I'm really going to enjoy us being able to see each other a lot more."

She pulled her hair back, revealing a small emerald earring for a second, before he hair fell forward again. "Yeah, I think I will too."

****

Devon blinked his eyes as he returned from the memory of that night. Everything had been perfect. It had been the summer before they both came to Arden Springs for school. Her parents were having marital problems, and for one night, Devon helped her to forget all that. That night as they walked around the riverside, he told her everything that she should know about college, about all the people he would introduce to her, and all the things they'd get to do when they were down there. They weren't together, but that night for Devon, it felt as if they were. That night he would always be able to look back upon with warm remembrance.

Because, in front of him, his life wasn't looking so bright. He sat in a small white chair next to all his friends, some from college, and some from back home. Even though Devon was surrounded by the people he cared about the most, he was lacking inside. Through a clenched jaw and tired eyes, he noted his group of friends that had come to pay their respects.

Claire was dressed up in a soft, lower cut black dress. She stared at the back of the person's chair in front of her as the speaker droned his words behind the podium. Her hair was let down for this occasion, her flaxen hair drifting over her shoulders, and the tips of her bangs gently caressing her cheeks. Her face was emotionless, concealing thoughts deep inside her head. Despite her face's hardened features, inside she was crying out to be released. She bottled up her emotion even now, unable to find a way to release it. It kept building up pressure as she rolled over the recent events that had transpired over and over in her mind. It seemed the tears she had shed over the course of events did nothing to relieve her. She wondered if she'd ever be able to release these feelings, or what would happen if she couldn't. She had already made plans to re-enlist with S.T.A.R.S., and surprisingly, Devon had pleaded with her to help him get in as well. She had arranged a meeting for him to meet her brother only a few days after the incident. It had gone a bit rough due to Devon's condition and her brother's tough exterior, but it seemed they would get along well enough. She, Devon, and Bowman were catching a flight to New York in a few days to begin training to become full-fledged S.T.A.R.S. members.

Jim Bowman stared out to the sea, also thinking about other things. He was in an Air Force service uniform; the light and dark blue hues were complimented with medals lining the front of his shirt. Instead of wearing his service cap, he wore a decidedly more spartan black beret. His appearance was rounded off with a pair of aviator's sunglasses that fully concealed his eyes. He was thinking of how he had finally managed to break into the elite ranks of S.T.A.R.S. He cracked a bit of a smile when he saw Chris Redfield's face as he handed the small disk of all Umbrella's work to him. He was a little upset about Jim's foolish attempt to get the disk and save his friends single-handedly, but obviously impressed, and he was hired on the spot. He wondered what type of training they would go through to secure their position of usefulness on the team. He had known of the other members vaguely. He had seen Jill Valentine once or twice, and remembered her to be "hot as hell," as one of his friends in his line of work had put it. However, she appeared to be Chris's arm candy, so he decided he'd leave that well enough alone. He hadn't heard much about Barry Burton or Leon Kennedy, but he figured they'd have to be some pretty good guys if they were in S.T.A.R.S. Inside, he was also somewhat happy that Devon decided to join too. Even though Devon had clearly joined on terms of revenge, it was still going to be fun fighting along Devon's side. Once again, they'd be a team. Just like the good ol' days. His thoughts then flashed to Demi. He didn't like the fact that she was gone than anyone else, he just didn't see a purpose in crying his eyes out over it. Regardless however, Devon was changing without her, but he felt there was nothing that he could do to console him. He simply remained on stand-by and showed his loyalty by remaining in California with him for the rest of the time they had left.

Bobbye listened intently on the words of the pastor, trying her best not to let emotion overtake her. He was talking about how life is so precious, how people never appreciate it until it's gone. It seemed to be a cookie-cutter funeral eulogy. She was wearing a business suit, complete with the overcoat and matching skirt, and a white blouse. Her hair was still up in a ponytail, however. A few stray strands dangled in front of her right eye as she listened to the service. She had remembered the fated trip to the hospital after they had escaped. Devon had sprinted into the building, even though Demi had lost a pulse as they pulled into the parking lot. There was nothing the doctors could do to save her. Since then, Devon had closed off completely. He wouldn't even allow anyone to comfort him. She was never good at comforting people to begin with, but it seemed Devon didn't have anyone else to look to for comfort. She hoped that even though he didn't show it, she was helping him get through it. She thought about how Claire had stuck to Jansen's story of terrorism to keep the public in the dark as to what was going on. She didn't want to have to compete with the CIA or FBI on this case, as the corrupted officials in both would make it much more difficult to get to Umbrella. Despite the bogus story, cameramen and news reporters had flocked to the survivors with questions of what happened and how they had escaped. They began to get the hint when Devon had punched one in the jaw, laying him out flat on the ground. She was going to miss him. He, Claire, and Jim were headed to New York to join S.T.A.R.S., and she was going to stay with her aunt on the outskirts of San Diego. Her aunt had kindly opened her home to Bobbye and her friends, and she didn't want to go back home just yet. She decided she would transfer to the University of Southern California, and finish her second semester there. Claire was glad to see that Bobbye was taking a less dangerous path of life than Devon and Jim, but had told her to visit them whenever she was able, to which Bobbye agreed.

Devon listened to he pastor wrap up his sermon, and waited to be introduced to give his speech. His mouth was dry, and he nervously flipped the paper Demi's parents had given him to read. He worked his restricted right hand. A brace had been put on it to help the knuckles heal, but he found it to be more of an annoyance than anything, as he couldn't even clench his fist. He sighed in an attempt to relieve some of the anxiety. He didn't want to go up there, and talk in front of a hundred people. However, it was a pretty small funeral - Demi's parents had opted to have it in California after Devon had told them it was where she had wanted to go if they got out of the situation alive. He couldn't lie to her parents about the ordeal. For everyone else, the story of bombings and terrorists was fine, even the school-wide memorial service held for all the students that lost their lives used the story of terrorists, but he felt he owed her parents more. They had mixed reactions from the story - it was so outlandish, they wondered if Devon was somehow behind her death. They never said that, but he figured that's what they were thinking. When they looked at him, they seemed to be sizing up his personality, seeing if they could find something inside of him that would make him capable of such a thing. And through all that, they still wanted him to speak in front of everyone, knowing that Demi was very close to him. As the speaker announced Devon to come forward, a hundred memories of her flashed across his eyes, making his heart skip a beat. More thoughts of his other friends screamed into his consciousness. Eric, Bethani, and finally, Lori. He thought of all the fun he'd had with them through the years of college, and it killed him inside to know those days would never be able to return. With shaky hands, he approached the podium, looking out to the ocean as he walked up. He intentionally looked away from the open casket; he didn't want to see her like that. He didn't want that to he his final memory of her in his mind. He wanted to remember her as he had always known her. He wanted to remember her as she was for that brief time that she was with him, the both of them, together. It was quite a beautiful place for something like this - the small service was held on a bluff overlooking the ocean. The gentle sound of waves crashing against the rocks below was ever present, and the sun was setting on the horizon, converting the water surface into liquid fire. "Demi would have enjoyed this," he thought to himself. He wetted his dry lips as stepped behind the podium eyeing the crowd. Older women in solid black dresses with shaded veils convulsed in soft sobs. The men accompanying them had the look of either regret or boredom on their face - he couldn't tell. Demi's dad had nodded to him slightly as his glance fell upon him. Her mother's eyes were red and wet, and her hand covered her face every few seconds or so, as if the emotion was overwhelming her. Devon knew how she felt.

He looked over the words one last time, sighed deeply, and began to read.

"We are all here today to honor someone who has touched the lives of many people. Demi was the type of girl that," he stopped momentarily, finding the words on the paper hard to read. His mind simply couldn't comprehend the words in his state. He spoke without remembering what he said. He tried to continue. "…The type of girl that would…that would…"

Claire frowned as she saw Devon begin to choke in front of the entire audience. She continued to watch as he stood there for a good five seconds in complete silence, staring at the paper in his hands.

He shook his head, crumpling the paper in his hands. "I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, but I can't read this." The dropped the ball of wadded paper on the ground, and continued. "I can't even remember what I read, you know? And I want what I say to come from the heart, especially if I'm talking about Demi." He noted her dad's worried and disapproving look, but he was undeterred. He stood in retrospective silence before he started his speech. "I can remember the first time I met Demi." His eyes began to glaze over in remembrance, the painful stinging slowly beginning to fade in. "We were…well, I was a senior in high school, and she was a sophomore that had just transferred in from Iowa. She was really quiet, and for a month, I had never heard anything about her." He cracked a small smile. "Then one day in the cafeteria, um, I was talking to one of my friends at a table as I walked, and I wasn't watching where I was going, and I bumped into her, and she spilled her tray all over the place. Everyone laughed at her, and I told her I was sorry, although, I was laughing too. She replied by punching me in the face and laying me out right there in front of everyone, which made them laugh harder." A few of the attendees chuckled lightly at the story. "After that, I wanted to make it up for her, and she felt bad about busting my lip, so we…just kinda hit it off, I guess."

He swallowed as the back of his throat began to ache, and his eyes slowly began to water up. "Since then, she's changed my life. She's helped to make me who I am today, and I was hoping that she would still continue to change me."

Bobbye couldn't hold it anymore. She choked on her own tears, and buried her face in her hands, pained sobs finally overtaking her body. She wasn't sure if it was because of the heavy atmosphere around her, or if it was repercussions of what she had been through, or if it was truly genuine sadness over Demi's death. Claire looked over at her, suddenly feeling the urge to join her. Instead, she raised her chin, and stared at Devon, as he continued to fall apart himself.

"She was one of those people that I could always count on through the years. She was someone I thought would always be there for me." He shook his head, the words drawing his heart deep into pain. "But I've had to deal with her being gone the past two weeks. I've had her taken from me. I've lost so many people close to me, but I swore that I would protect her. I promised her…" His voice began to waiver. "I promised something I couldn't give to her. I told her I'd get her out alive. And I know I tried, but," he wiped his eyes as he sniffed, his actions remnimiscient of a small boy. "…But I couldn't do it. I can't help but look back and wonder if there was something more I could have done…If there was something else I missed."

Bowman stared at Devon behind his glasses, his features tense. He was suddenly paying very close attention to his friend.

"Maybe there was. And if there was, I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Thompson that I couldn't bring your daughter back safe. And it kills me to…" Devon stopped again, fighting back the emotion for a few seconds.

Mr. Thompson's lip began to quiver at the young man's apology. He closed his eyes as his wife rested her head on his shoulder, sobbing loudly.

Devon recovered his composure, but continued his speech on a different path, now talking directly to Demi's parents. "I can't change what's happened, but I can still change the future. I'm leaving to New York in a few days to work towards finding the man that took Demi from me." He corrected himself. "From all of us. I won't let him get away with the things he's done, and I'll see to it personally that he gets what's coming to him." He paused for a second, noticing how far off track his speech had gone. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes once more before finishing up. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good at these, but I couldn't just read someone else's feelings as if they were mine. But, um, I know this is going to be something I'm going to have to deal with the rest of my life. My prayers go out to all of you that have to suffer through this as well."

He walked away from behind the podium, and sat in his seat. He didn't look over to his friends. He simply sat, staring at his hands in his lap. His face was troubled, and his mouth was working slightly as he bit the inside of his lip. The pastor moved back up to finish the service, leaving the crowd in reflections of their own thoughts.

****

Claire, Jim and Bobbye sat at a wooden table inside the living room of Bobbye's aunt's cabin. Bowman was leaned back in his chair with his feet up on the table, as Claire leaned inward. Bobbye lay on the side of the table with her head on her arms.

"You guys leave tomorrow, huh?" Bobbye made no effort to move, she simply shifted her eyes to the corner of her peripheral vision, to Claire.

Claire nodded. "Yep. We're outta here as of eight o'clock tomorrow."

Bobbye slowly nodded in agreement. Bowman raised his hands behind his head. "You sure you don't want to come with us, Larson?"

Bobbye shook her head. "No, I should stay here. I would like to go, really I would…It's just that, I don't think I'm ready for any more excitement right now. I need to recover from all this before jumping into anything else."

Bowman was silent. It was an honest enough answer.

"Well, I'm going to miss you guys. I mean, the whole…zombie thing was quite a bonding experience, you know?"

Claire smirked, slightly amused. "I know what you mean. I just want you to know you're leaving me with a guy that says three words a day and some chauvinistic jerk.

"Hey," Bowman chimed in, "shut up woman."

Claire glared at him sharply. "You watch your mouth, Bowman. I swear, if you keep that up, you're going to be dead before we land in New York."

Bowman nodded mockingly. "Okay Claire. Whatever you say."

She rolled her eyes, shifting the conversation. "Hey, where's Devon at?"

Jim replied. "Where he's been all day. Sitting on the beach out back."

Bobbye shook her head. "He's killing himself inside. Someone should go talk to him."

Claire and Bobbye joined together in staring at the relaxing Jim in answer.

"What?" He looked between the two of them, still leaning back in the chair. "You want me to go?"

"Come on Jim, you know him best," Bobbye pleaded.

"Aw hell, you know you can't rely on me for emotional support. You know you can't. I'm not made to deal with shit like that."

"But Jim," Bobbye pleaded, "Devon is lost right now, and I've tried to bring him back, but I can't. You haven't said a word to him about what's happened. Maybe you're the only one that can help him.

"Damn it."

Claire sighed as she stared more intensely at Jim. Her ponytail fell over her shoulder and around her neck as she began to speak. "I've already tried to talk to him, but he shuts me down. I'm not very good at that stuff anyway. And I don't want Bobbye to go, because that means I'm left with you alone, and heaven forbid that. So stop whining and just get him to come back in here." To finalize the deal, she kicked the back of Bowman's chair, causing him to flail wildly and land on his back. When the girls began to laugh at him, he growled, picked himself off the ground, and grabbed the back of Claire's chair, flinging it to the floor. She fell in the exact same manner that Jim had, hitting the wooden floor and yelling in surprise. "Fine," he said matter-of-factly. I'll go talk with him." He began to walk to the back door, before turning around a few steps before it. "Oh, and Claire - never do that to me again."

****

Devon stared intently into the night sky. The full moon was out, reflecting over the water in a silvery dancing line. He sat on the shore with his hands pulled far behind his body and his head facing upward. He listened to the soft lapping of the waves on the shore, as he moved his fingers in the sand. He blinked slowly, gazing upon the full beauty of the moon. It shone brightly, and he could make out the craters and a few peaks on the heavenly body. He listened to nearby crickets chirping sporadically as he reflected on the events causing his life to change. He then heard another noise that sounded like footsteps upon the sand, then a large dull thud as the person behind him fell.

"Damn." Bowman picked himself up and cursed the tree root he had tripped on. The dusted himself off as he walked, stopping a few steps behind Devon. He had no idea on what to say to him, so he just stood there behind him a few minutes, in a position not unlike a parade rest. He noted the air was surprisingly warm for the time of the season on the shore, and used that as his opening into conversation.

"It's damn humid out here. Back at Colorado State, it's probably snowing by now."

Devon didn't say anything in reply, and Bowman simply lost all tact in his verbal skills.

"Okay Devon, I really didn't want to do this, but you're really pissing me off."

Devon frowned curiously as he continued to stare at the moon.

"I understand you're sad about Demi dying. Hell, I'm sad too. But that doesn't give you the right to be an ass around all your friends. We've been friends for too damn long, and then you go and act all retarded after something like this, when you're needed the most."

Slowly, Devon replied. "Jim, do…do you have any idea, what's been lost to me? Any idea at all?"

Bowman gritted his teeth. "Yes, I do. Hell yes. You've lost what makes you who you are. You're not even the same person I used to know."

"Exactly."

"Damn it Devon!" Jim yelled, his frustration beginning to show. "What I'm saying is you don't need to lose the part of yourself that you did. That's fine you're sad about Demi, but do something about it."

"I'm going to join S.T.A.R.S., Jim. What do you think I'm doing?"

"What I'm saying, Devon, is that if you keep your head in your ass, you may lose someone else important to you." Bowman eyed Devon, as he slowly turned his hear towards Jim. He took this as an opportunity, and sat down beside him in the sand. "What if something happened to someone else you loved? In your state, you wouldn't ever be able to help them." When he was silent, he continued. "Be pissed at Jansen. That's good to be pissed. I'm pissed. But don't let it consume you with it. You still have stuff left to live for."

Devon shook his head as he looked at his friend for a second before shifting his gaze back to the horizon. "Sometimes, it doesn't feel that I do have something left to live for."

"Devon, was Demi the only reason you were happy? Was she the only thing that kept you looking forward to each day that came?"

When he didn't answer, he reiterated his statement. "Is it?"

"No."

"Then what's your problem?"

Devon shook his head, grabbing a handful of sand and pouring it out, making a small pile. "I just wonder how things would have turned out if I had managed to save her, you know?"

"Yeah, but you can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because now, it's never going to happen, Devon." Jim began to roll his heel in the sand, making a small circular indention. "No matter how much you think about it, it'll never change. Don't dwell on things that might have been, but think of all the things that you can still do."

"Like what?"

Jim thought for a minute, scratching the top of his head. "You can still kill Jansen. That'd be fun, right? We can still hang out. You can still see the world, right?"

Devon was silent. He didn't answer. He felt that Jim was right, in a way. There were a lot of things unfinished it seemed in his mind, although he wasn't quite sure what they were at the time.

"Hey Devon, just so you know." Jim rolled his eyes at the thought of showing care towards someone. "I really did come down to make sure you were still alive."

"Please Bowman, the disk-"

Jim interrupted him. "I know about the disk, I know." He sighed. "I came down there for that, too. But I knew you were still alive down there somewhere, and I'd rather come away without the disk than you be dead. We've been best friends for who knows how long. We're a team, right? We'll stay a team, as well. We're going to have a hell of a lot of fun napalming the hell out of Umbrella."

Devon brushed one of his hands through his dark hair in exhaustion and annoyance at his situation. "I know I'm different now. I don't want to be, but I am. I'm trying to find my way back, but it's really hard to try to act like nothing happened."

"I'm not telling you to act like nothing happened. Just remember what you've got left, damn it."

Devon slowly nodded looking at his old friend. "Thanks for…everything Jim. I'll try to take your advice."

Jim shook his head, rejecting the compliment. "The girls made me come out here to talk to you, it wasn't my idea. They probably wanted some 'alone time' to spend together." Jim shook his head. "Too damn bad I don't have a camera."

Devon laughed at his friend's comment. "Figured you didn't come out here on your own."

"Well yeah, but come in anyway. Say bye to Bobbye. I know she wants to see you before you leave. You don't know when you'll get to see her again, so you need to make the most of it, I guess."

Devon nodded. "I'll be inside in a minute. I'm going to stay out here a few minutes longer." When Bowman shot him a disapproving look, he enforced his statement. "I promise. Look, just go in and tell them I'll be back soon."

Jim shrugged, "All right, well, if you don't come in, one of the girls is going to come out to talk to you next, because I really hate doing this shit." Jim lifted himself off the ground walked back to the house. Devon could hear him curse the tree root again on the way back, and shook his head. His thoughts then grew deeper, back to Demi. A troubled expression grew over his face as he lost himself in the situation once again. He ran his fingers through the sand as he listened his three friends talk inside the house. He was unsure of what they were saying, but he could make out the murmurs of each of their individual voices. He stared at the sand by his legs, contemplating his next moves in life, running them over in his head, trying to see what may come out of them. He sighed heavily, and looked to the setting moon with uncertain eyes. He then returned his gaze to the stars above, and slowly nodded as he made a pact with his lost loved one in his mind.

"I'm going to get him, Demi."

He nodded in approval, and then began to walk back to the house, back to his friends. The only things he had left in the world.

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