The room was dark, save for the faint moonlight shining through the windows marking very distinct shapes on the ground. The air was fresh, certainly much fresher than he'd expected it to be since he was here last.

The tables were clean and freshly stocked like they had just been bussed. But that didn't make sense...the place hadn't been used in over fifteen years. There weren't even tables anymore when he was here only days ago.

Or was it weeks? Maybe months or even years? Come to think of it, the entire place looks clean, he thought.

It didn't make sense. The windows were clear, the floor was swept, and the cash register was back on the bar. The cobwebs were gone, and from the kitchen came the faint smell of cooked food. He took a breath in and savored the aroma. It had been a while since he'd had anything from this place. As fancy and eloquent as the restaurants were in Chicago, nothing came close to the food he remembered eating here.

The stage was dark, though he could make out two large shapes standing on it. He took a cautious step toward the stage, part of him not wanting it to be real, another part of him hoping that it was. His heart was thundering in his chest and his breath was loud.

When he approached the edge of the stage, the lights switched on one-by-one just like a broadway show. Standing on stage were two animatronics, their clean yellow fur glistening like gold in the light. With smooth movements, they looked at him with their eyes wide and robotic, making him sigh in relief. He was afraid of seeing those dead, sullen eyes again.

From the speakers above the stage, a familiar tune began to play and the robots began their dance number. It wasn't too complex: the rabbit moved its arms and legs in time with the music while the bear turned to address the rest of the crowd that wasn't there.

"Tonight," it announced in its loud voice, "we have a special performance for a very special person!"

A loud cheer erupted from behind him causing him to jump. He turned around and was met with a large crowd that had appeared out of nowhere. He thought he recognized some of them, but they were standing too far away to make out behind the lights that had just turned on to illuminate the stage. He did, however, see a large sign that had been hung above them on the ceiling.

WELCOME HOME, SAMMY!

Suddenly, two people stepped forward out of the crowd. One was a tall man, messy brown hair, and a green plaid flannel shirt that could be spotted a mile away. On his face was a large smile. The other was a young woman who appeared to be around his age and height. In fact, there was much more than that. She had the man's same brown hair. Her brown eyes were soft of loving and her smile was also wide on her face. She turned to Sam and beckoned his attention back toward the stage with her head.

He turned. Both of the animatronics were looking at him as they danced to one of his favorite tunes as a child, the one that always played throughout the day, and he never tired of. He felt his spirit rise within him as he lifted his arms to imitate the dance onstage.

"Sammy?"

His eyes shot open. He saw nothing but blackness around him. The room was dark. He shifted nervously when pain shot through his left arm causing him to cry out. He glanced to his right and noticed something looming over him in the darkness making him jump in surprise, but as he studied it, he recognized it as an IV bag.

That's when he remembered: Oh, yeah. I'm in the hospital. He rubbed his head. Must've been dreaming, and was woken up by-

His eyes went wide and he looked around in confusion. What had woken him up? It sounded like a voice of some kind, but it could've easily only been in the dream. After a few minutes, he yawned and let himself relax in the bed. Maybe it was the pain that had awoken him. It would be a rough night if that were the case, but he'd have to try to sleep as best as he could. He closed his eyes.

"Sammy!"

He resisted the urge to launch himself upward again as he opened his eyes once more. The room was still as dark and empty as before...or was it? As he studied the surroundings, he noticed that the chairs along the wall on the other side were growing clearer. Perhaps it was just his eyes adjusting to the darkness, but there was something else, a rather odd feeling. Odd...and pleasant, like a blanket had just enveloped him. He smiled. It felt strangely comforting.

And then, a silhouette formed in front of him. He blinked. Surely it had to be a trick of the eyes. Everyone always thought that they'd seen shapes in the darkness. It would always be gone when you blinked.

But it wasn't gone. If anything, it was becoming clearer. As he continued gazing dumbfoundedly at the silhouette in front of him, he noticed two more on either side taking shape. He moved back in his bed nervously.

What's happening? What is this? Am I still going crazy?

In a small flash, the silhouette in the middle began taking on colors and distinguishing features. It was a man, not too old, but definitely middle-aged. He was wearing what looked like jeans and a light shirt underneath a green plaid flannel shirt. His face was clean-shaven and his hair was perfectly straight. It was funny. Sam couldn't help but think that the man's hair would look better if it were messier.

His heart almost leaped out of his chest. It was the exact same man from his dream, only he looked even cleaner now and his face looked like it was glowing.

Sam thought back to the pictures he'd seen, and only one person came to mind.

"D-Dad?"

Henry smiled. "Hello, son."

Sam couldn't speak. He could only stare at his father standing before him. Part of him wanted to end the vision before it did anything further damage to his psychosis, but another part of him wanted to experience every minute of it.

The silhouette on the left also took on its full form. It was a woman who looked to be Henry's age. In fact, she looked very much like Henry. Her hair was dark, as were her eyes, yet that didn't prevent them from quenching the same glowing effect as Henry.

"Samuel, my dear. It's been a long time."

"Aunt Jen?"

She nodded.

Before he could ask what was going on, the final silhouette took shape to his right. He saw what looked to be combat boots, a pair of jeans with a white shirt and olive-green jacket, all of which were likewise cleaner than he'd ever thought possible. He saw shoulder-length brown hair, a thin mouth that looked like it was smiling, a round face, and two glistening brown eyes. Sam's jaw completely dropped. Could it really be-?

"Sammy!" she cried. "It's so good to see you! I've missed you terribly!"

Sam stared wide-eyed at his twin sister. At this point, he had no clue what was going on, if any of it was even real. He'd seen her, or so he thought, numerous times in that building, and each time it was nothing more than his own imagination. But this time, she really looked like she was there, exactly as John had described. He looked between the three of them, taking note of how they all looked like they were really there. Each of them continued looking back at him, smiling brightly and waiting for him to find his voice.

"What-? I don't-how are-?"

"Oh, dear. He's overwhelmed," said Aunt Jen. "Can't say I blame you. I'd probably be too in your shoes."

Sam looked back at Charlie. Her smile faltered slightly.

"Are you okay, Sammy?" she asked.

"I...don't know. I mean…" He paused. How on earth was he going to say this? He wanted to say it delicately, as though the wrong word would break the illusion he clearly was having, but he didn't know how to put it.

"Go ahead, son," said Henry. "You can say it."

"Are you...you know...real?" It still sounded wrong. He looked at Charlie.

Her bright smile immediately returned and she approached him. She reached out her hand and placed it on his. He gasped. What he had expected to be cold, if there even was any contact at all, was surprisingly warm. More importantly, it was there. He realized now that every time he thought he'd seen her in Fazbear's Fright, he never actually had any physical contact to validate. But now, here it was! He stared down at their hands in amazement before finally breaking into a smile of his own.

"It's really you?"

She nodded.

"Well, what are you doing here? How are you here?"

"It's complicated," said Aunt Jen. Sam looked to his father.

"We're here for a reason," he said simply.

Sam was taken aback. What on earth does that mean?

"I still don't understand. Are you actually...alive?"

"Yes and no," said Henry, a small flicker of sadness on his face. "We are alive...just not of this world."

Sam let out a small gasp. He understood now.

"Well, why are you here, then?"

"Because you need to know something," said Charlie, drawing her brother's attention back to her. When he did, Charlie gasped. He looked just like she remembered, only older. His hair was a little bit messier and he had more facial hair than before. Of course, she told herself. What was I expecting, an exact replica of his childhood self? The more she looked at him, the more she realized that he looked a bit like John. She wondered if he was as messy.

"What is it?" he asked.

Charlie shook. His voice had startled her. She'd forgotten what he'd asked before. "What's what?"

"What is it that you need to tell me?"

Charlie's smile did not cease. "That we're okay."

Sam looked back at his father and aunt once more, both of whom nodded at him. He turned back to his sister.

Charlie sighed. "You've been looking for me, hoping to find me out there somewhere, alive and well." She shook her head. "You won't. I'm gone, Sammy. I'm sorry." Her smile turned apologetic if she even was still smiling.

"We've all been looking for you," said Sam. "Clay found me and brought me here, brought me back. Everyone's been worried sick about you."

"I know," she said sadly. "I miss them all: Marla, Carlton, Jessica and her excited talk about finding mummies."

Sam chuckled. Yeah, that sounds like something Jessica would talk about.

"How are they?" Charlie asked, concerned. That was the one thing that almost prevented her from taking that final step at Aunt Jen's to ending her life.

"They're okay," said Sam, "except that they were worried about you."

"Were?"

"Well, we found your tombstone at the cemetery," Sam explained. "Yours and Dad's. So we kind of figured out it from there, or at least John did. I wasn't quite as sure."

"So you went off on your own? For me?" said Charlie, guilt oozing from her voice.

Sam nodded, making Charlie gasp in horror. She felt like crying as she thought back to her own adventures trying to find him: the twisted Freddy that ate her and took her to Afton's underground pizzeria beneath her father's house, the door in that room beneath her bedroom that she could've sworn at the time was her brother calling out to her. She knew better now. It was never about Sammy, at least not at the time. The true calling, mysterious as it was, did indeed lie beyond that door, but instead of her brother, it was a doppelganger of her that would unwittingly lead her to eventually make the fateful decision to sacrifice herself and put an end to the crude life she'd been living in exchange for something better. Still, she had worried so many of her friends by doing so, particularly John, and she couldn't help but feel a little selfish for venturing off on her own like that. And now here was her brother doing the same thing for her, but his quest was a different one with a different result, one that would continue to keep them separated for the time being.

"My brave boy," said Henry. "You've been so strong, but you're much like me...so determined to find what was lost that we lose ourselves along the way."

"Indeed," said Aunt Jen, struggling to hold back a smirk. "I always knew he'd inherited your hard head."

"Nonsense. That's strictly from his mother," Henry replied with a laugh.

Sam tried to laugh along, but his lungs were still struggling to handle the sudden appearance of three unexpected family members in his hospital room.

"Are you okay, Sammy?" Charlie asked.

"I don't know," said Sam. He put a hand to his head. He was sweating profusely. "I've been through a lot lately."

"We know you have," said Aunt Jen. "You're lucky to be alive, you know."

"Yeah, I know," said Sam miserably. "But I'm still here, like you are, right?" he added hopefully.

The three of them exchanged looks of concern.

"We're not staying long," said Charlie. "I wish we could, but we can't."

"Why not?" said Sam. "Surely there's something we can do! If you're still alive now, if you've been alive all this time…"

"Sammy, I don't have a body anymore," said Charlie. "Even before John burned it, it was irreversibly damaged by the blade, as I hoped. Trust me...there's no returning to that body, or any like it, for me now."

"But...why?" said Sam desperately. "Maybe it doesn't have to be like this! Dad did it before, maybe we can do it again! Maybe we can somehow create another body!"

"Sammy," said Aunt Jen.

"Why can't we do it? If this is real, if it really was Charlie the entire time, why can't we do it again?" Sam's adrenaline was pumping. He felt his chest beginning to tighten. He knew he was working himself up, which was highly ill-advised given his condition, but right now, he didn't care. If this was real, if his deceased family members were really standing in front of him now, if none of it was just his taxed brain causing visions, he wanted to go all the way.

There was silence amongst them. Jen frowned and shook her head. Henry sighed.

"It's not that easy, son," he said calmly. "It's much more complicated than that, more than anybody could have imagined."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that it shouldn't have even worked in the first place." Henry hated seeing his son in such a desperate and mentally-vulnerable state. It reminded him of his own years wasting away in his madness. This was his chance to set things right. "When I created those dolls, I was hoping that my own skills could make it happen. But it never could. As much as I tried to deny it, deep down I knew that no amount of sheer mechanical engineering could ever bring back the dead. Even that early in the process, I was already deluding myself into thinking that I could be God and do the impossible, but I was wrong. I'm only human, like everyone else."

"But Charlie-!"

"I know," said Henry, giving a quick glance to his beloved daughter standing next to him. "I had the parts and remnants to make something lifelike, something that could imitate Charlotte in almost every way, but never be her. All I can say is...what happened was an inexplicable miracle."

Sam shook his head, completely aghast at what he was hearing. "You-you're not saying that-Charlie actually was...real, are you?"

Charlie raised her eyebrows. Even though she knew what he meant, it came out sounding a little harsher than he intended.

"Yes...and no," said Henry. "She died the dreadful night she was taken from us by my...despicable, abominable ex-partner!" The sudden venom in his voice was startling. Aunt Jen winced. Henry sighed again, this time louder. "I'll never know how it happened exactly, but somehow, my Charlie continued to live." He turned again to Charlie. "Somehow she still found her way home and took a place inside the empty robotic shells I had created. Not even I knew what had happened." He gave a small laugh. "It's amazing. For four years, I continued laboring, hoping that I was making a difference with my creation, yet the whole time, the real difference was beyond my comprehension. My Charlie, dead in body yet still alive by a pure stroke of grace."

Sam looked at his sister, who was holding back tears.

"Is this true?" he asked, both anxious and afraid of the answer.

She nodded. "Elizabeth," she said in a low voice. "That day at Aunt Jen's: Elizabeth told me that I was special, that Dad had somehow gotten a part of himself into me, and that's what made me alive."

"Was it?" said Sam.

"Yes," said Charlie. "Although he was losing his mind and sanity, it was his undying love for me that brought me to life. It gave me a home, a temporary body, after my real one was killed."

"Temporary?"

"I never was meant to live forever," said Charlie. "Not like that. My body was made to look and act real, so real that it would be completely deceptive to everyone...including myself, but…" She closed her eyes, forcing herself to continue. "That wouldn't last forever. As Elizabeth bluntly informed me, I was the third of four robots planned. She was supposed to be me as an adult, but that's not what happened. As I grew up, I made each body a temporary home until I reached my final body. And I eventually did...just not in the way Dad thought." She gestured to her body.

When Sam said nothing, she continued.

"Dad created those robots to simulate a stage of life for me, hoping that I would one day spend the rest of my days in my fourth and final body, an adult version of me. Instead, Elizabeth stole that body from me. At first, I was angry, but…" She trailed off, unsure of how to put it into words. "...then I realized that it was better this way. I wasn't supposed to still be here, in this world, as a fake person who only looked real."

Sam shook his head. Despite her detailed retelling of the events, he was becoming more confused by the second. "How do you know all of this?"

"When I died...the second time at Aunt Jen's with John...I became real once again!" she said brightly, her smile returning. "Sammy, I've never felt more alive, more happy, than I am now."

"But Charlie," Sam protested again, his desires still burning within. "You've been looking for me, haven't you? John says you were wanting to find me, too. Well...I'm here!"

Charlie felt her eyes begin to water. She remembered all of those moments with John, talking to him about her brother, how she felt like he'd been calling to her. It was completely true. She'd wanted to find him more than anything, to find her deceased twin brother, or so she believed. Never would she have possibly imagined that her brother was alive and well and that she was the one who was really dead, in a way. For the first time since she activated the suicide robot that officially took her life, she felt a strong, overwhelming feeling of regret. Had she only waited a little bit longer, she could have still been alive, somewhat, to be with Sam in person, to still be with all of them, to prevent the tears and anguish caused by her sudden death, and most importantly, to stop her brother from wandering into William Afton's final trap.

That was the worst part of it all. For well over a year, she'd believed that her brother had been Afton's first target. He wasn't, yet he still could've been. Even after his death, Afton had still almost managed to claim her brother after all. Her fists shook with rage, but as she caught Sam's eyes again, she calmed herself. She turned to her father, who smiled at her, then to Aunt Jen, who did the same. She turned back to Sam, the pain in his eyes almost unbearable for her.

"Sammy, I love you," she said, "and I would love nothing more than to be able to spend time with you and the others, but…" She shook her head. It was hard to explain. It was still hard to understand everything herself, but she had to try. "I've been alive as a fake for so long. I don't want to be fake anymore. That's why I knew I had to end it. Elizabeth and I were two creations of fake people who weren't supposed to be there in the first place, destined to never experience life the way we were supposed to, living souls trapped in robotic bodies that would never age the way they were supposed to." She scoffed. "It's funny. Before we died together...again...Elizabeth told me I was nothing more than an empty shell with no soul. I didn't get to know her all that well, but she seemed like the jealous, sarcastic type to me. She seemed to have completely forgotten about the soul she had herself, that poor little girl. I guess she really was made out of Dad's rage as she said, so much so that she was blinded to what truly made me so 'special' and 'unique' in the first place: my soul, trapped in a crude body, but still there, suffering from the limited memories and humanities of my fake self."

She gazed longingly into her brother's eyes once more. She could see the hurt in them. It was the same hurt that she remembered seeing in the seconds before he was taken by Afton all those years ago. It was all so clear now. Without the limitations and faults of her robotic body to blur her memories, everything was as clear as day. She only wished it could have been while she was alive. Tears began to pour from her eyes.

"I know you want me with you," she explained, "but it's better this way. I'm tired of being a fake person living in a body that looked real but wasn't. No one is supposed to live like that. As soon as I realized that it was true, I knew what I had to do. I had to end it, the masquerade, so I could be real again, to be in Daddy's arms as an actual daughter."

Henry walked over and took Charlie in his arms. "Oh, my baby girl," he said softly, patting her head as she hugged him back, sobbing into his chest. "You've been so brave, so strong. I can't even begin to imagine what I would've done if I'd realized that you really were still with me the entire time. If I had only known, I-"

His eyes widened. He turned to Sam, who was watching them with wanting eyes. He, too, began to sob, reaching down and touching his son's face. "Samuel, forgive me. I've been a horrible father. I don't blame your mother for taking you away. Your life was much better without all of this to deal with."

"Dad," said Sam. "Don't say that. I love you, and Mom does, too. We forgive you. But…" He froze. The next question was the hard one. He felt the impulse to hold it back, keep it hidden inside and not ruin the tender moment, but it had to be asked. "Why? If you really miss us and wrote that letter, why didn't you try to find us yourself? Why did you kill yourself?"

In the corner of his eye, he saw Aunt Jen shift closer. He noticed that her eyes had a disturbed look in them.

Henry shook his head and sat down on the bed next to his son. "That, my boy, was my final mistake."

Aunt Jen reached over and placed a hand on her brother's shoulder.

"I've been foolish for so long," he explained, still choking back sobs. "I've made so many horrible mistakes, even before I met your mother. The truth is, son, your father is not the infallible man you thought him to be, and you saw that for yourself before you left with your mother. I wanted nothing more than to be a good man, and a good father, but when Charlotte was taken, I ended up going down the exact same road as my partner, who's now in hell for his own crimes. To be honest, I have no idea why I've been spared such a fate. Perhaps God had a better use for me." He managed a small, pitiful smile that lasted only a few seconds. "I've been a fool for many years, doing whatever I could to make myself somebody, somebody who could bring joy to people, but when it really got to the heart of the matter, I was unwilling to see what I already had in front of me: a good life, a wife and son who still loved me, a good sister. And that stubbornness followed me all the way to the end." His face turned sour as his eyes continued pouring out tears. He looked more anguished than ever. "I became so unsure of everything. One minute, I was convinced that putting an end to my suffering was the only option. But as I stood staring at the contraption I'd created to do just that, I-I saw your face, and your mother's, and I thought to myself, 'What am I doing? This is wrong. I can't do this.' But before I could stop it, it was over." He finished by thrusting an imaginary knife straight into his chest.

Sam stared horrified at his father as he struggled to hold back tears himself. To hear such an emotional and agonizing confession from the man who'd always been so joyful, so confident, so seemingly perfect in every way...it was heartbreaking, yet not surprising. In a flash of realization, Sam's fists clenched in rage. It was Nightmare. Nightmare, that real yet delusive being that showed up looking to ravish and destroy, had taken his father from him, as well as his sister by means of William Afton, and almost himself, too. If it weren't for Nightmare's lies and manipulations, Charlie and Henry might both still be alive today, and they could all still be together as a healthy, normal family. Instead, they were reduced to a broken, barely-functional image of their former glory. His train of thought was interrupted by a sharp stab of pain in his chest, making him realize he'd apparently started physically shaking in his anger. The concerned looks of his family confirmed this.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Sam. "I mean, no I'm not fine, but…" He knew he had to calm his breathing. His mother would kill him if he put himself at further risk simply by working himself up. He looked up at his father. They locked tear-soaked eyes.

"Dad...we forgive you, Mom and I," he said, forcing a smile even though he did not feel like doing so.

Henry gasped and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "After all of these years, I am finally at peace. My burden is lifted." He reached down and ruffled his son's hair, his own smile finally returning to his face. "You're a much stronger man than I was, Sammy, and you've got a blessed life ahead of you full of wonderful people. Don't ever take them for granted."

"I won't," said Sam told his father.

"Attaboy," he said with a wink.

Aunt Jen placed a hand on Henry's shoulder.

"It's time, Henry," she said, and he nodded. Sam gasped.

"Wait, you're leaving? Now?"

"I'm afraid so," said Aunt Jen. "Our time has come."

"Your time?" Sam repeated, unsure whether or not he'd heard right.

Aunt Jen nodded and smiled, the same smile she gave him the last time he saw all those years ago when he and his mother left. "It's been so great to see you again, Sammy, but we have to go."

Sam turned to his father. "W-why?"

Henry chuckled, though his eyes were still watering. "Son, as much as we would love to stay, we can't. Like I said, we were sent to assure you that we're okay. Now that we've done that, it's time to say goodbye for now."

Heartbroken, Sam looked to his sister. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Of course!" she said brightly, breaking into a wide grin once more.

"You all will," said Henry. "You and the others have fought hard to right the wrongs of the past, including your friend Kyle, but you've done all that you can. This chapter of your lives is over. It's time for you to do what I didn't do and move on, to keep living life the way you're meant to until the day comes when we meet again."

"I know, but it's just…" Sam broke off, struggling once again to find the right words. "It's been a long week, a long sixteen years! I never thought I'd ever see any of you again! Why does this visit have to be so short? Can't you stay a little longer? The others would love to see you, too!"

"We would love to," said Aunt Jen, "but we can't. Our time has come. We'll see you soon, Sammy." She smiled and reached out for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before fading away.

"Goodbye, son," said Henry, patting Sam's shoulder, "and tell your mother I love her." Within a few seconds, he too was gone.

Sam turned to Charlie once more. She reached into her pocket and pulled something out of it.

"Do you remember this?"

Sam peered at the small object in her hand. It was round and flat, like a pocket watch or a pendant. She brought it closer, and he saw that it looked old and rusted, yet in a stable condition. He shook his head.

"No. What is it?"

"This was Dad's old pocket watch his grandfather gave him," she said. "That day at Aunt Jen's, before I died, John and I found a box of Dad's old stuff. We found a letter that he wrote to Aunt Jen and his jacket. This was in the pocket."

She opened it. Sam looked inside, expecting to see motionless hands frozen in time behind smashed glass, but instead, he saw a picture of himself and Charlie as young children. They were hugging each other and laughing. He had on a pair of blue bunny ears and had a funny look on his face like he was pretending to be a monster bunny trying to eat her while she was attempting to reach up and take the bunny ears off of his head.

But that wasn't all. Beneath that was an engraving etched in the metal. It said in fine cursive handwriting:

NO GREATER LOVE THERE BE

THAN A FATHER AND HIS CHILDREN SEE.

Sam studied it. There were a few scratches on the glass protecting the picture, and the outer rim looked slightly bent out of shape and rusted, but otherwise, it looked well-preserved. He began to wonder how long his father had stared at it longingly after his life fell apart, but he quickly shook those thoughts away.

"I want you to have it," said Charlie, closing it. "That's what Dad would want."

"Are you sure?" asked Sam. "I mean, you spent more time with him than I did."

"True," said Charlie, "but then again, I'm not the one who really needs it. You are." She walked over to where his clothes sat on a nearby chair, still neatly stacked. She placed it inside one of his jacket pockets. "It can be a reminder to you whenever you feel lost. Maybe you can give it to your own kids someday!"

Sam scoffed. "I've had some bad luck with dating, to be honest. I don't really think that's gonna happen."

"That's not true, Sammy! There are plenty of people out there who will appreciate the caring and courageous person that you are! I know Jessica certainly does! As embarrassing as it was, we talked about boys quite a bit when we shared a dorm."

Sam thought back to all of the interactions he and Jessica had together. Although he always dismissed it as compassion grief-stricken emotions about losing someone close, there was a deeper feeling that he felt with her. It was similar to the one he had with John but different. Now that he thought about it, he realized that he did genuinely enjoy seeing her happy, knowing that his sheer presence made her happy. It had been a few years now since his last misadventure on this road. Could it really be likely?

Charlie sighed. "Well, I'd love to stay longer, but I have to go."

Sam's face fell once more, but if everything he'd heard was true, he knew deep down that it probably was for the best.

"Charlie?" he asked, feeling a bit embarrassed to be asking.

"Hmm?"

"Were you there with me in that burning building?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"When I almost died in that fire, after I'd already passed out, I heard a voice tell me that everything would be alright. Call me crazy, but it sounded like your voice."

She stared at him for a second and broke into another smile.

"I'll leave that for you to decide," she said teasingly. "You can tell me what you think when we see each other again." She leaned down and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a strong embrace. Ignoring the pain, Sam wrapped both of his arms around her back and returned the hug. He felt his ribs crying out in pain, but he didn't care. After everything he'd been through, all of the illusions and mental strains, he was finally seeing and holding his sister alive and in the flesh, or so he hoped. He didn't want to let go, but as if his own body was acting against him, he released her and she stepped back.

"Goodbye, Sammy! I love you!" she said with a wave as the blurriness began to take hold. "Tell everyone else I said hello!" she added with a slight echo to her voice.

He reached out his hand after her, desperate to hold onto her, to keep her here with him as a reassurance that this was all real and not just some elusive dream created by his taxed brain. But just like with the others, she was gone within seconds, and before he had time to register her absence, he felt himself slipping back into dreamy blackness.