Charlie cries softly as he lifts her shirt to inspect her back, dragging smooth fingertips over the fading bruises.

"Don't worry, they're healing." Rufus grits his teeth at the sight of them, mingled with the injuries that had been caused by the bomb blast. "You'll be back to normal in no time."

The idea of his sister being buried alive alongside other ignorant and unimportant people only to die with them still makes his heart race. If he had been in Midgar, if he had been president, no terrorist cell would dare attempt anything so bold.

And to think, Reeve had failed her. A better man would have evacuated her immediately, would have done everything in his power to secure her safety first before anyone else's, would have dropped everything to make certain Charlie wasn't in any danger before proceeding as he saw fit.

Not only had Reeve failed to protect her from harm, but he had allowed her to wander among the streets in the hopes of saving some worthless people who didn't need her help. He had left her alone in the medical bay while she was hurting, had failed to comfort her while she cried alone in bed.

She turns to face him, eyes unfocused. It had been the same when he spoke to Reeve earlier, unsure if the brute was even able to hear half of what he was saying. Even now, when he speaks to Charlie, it seems his words go in one ear and filter right out through the other, blinking at him like what he's saying doesn't make sense in the slightest.

"Why don't you come back to Costa del Sol with me?" Rufus asks her gently, sitting on the expensive leather sofa he bought for Charlie's apartment, the apartment that he pays for and has been paying for since she first moved in. At least Reeve can't say Rufus has never done anything for him. "You'll be safe there, and relatively unbothered."

Charlie shakes her head, smiling weakly at him. "I don't have time to take a vacation right now."

A vacation to her, a horrifying reality to him. She has no possible idea how lonely it can be at the beach house, all by himself, with no company save for his mutated pup, who can't go with him to half the places in the resort town, anyway. At least when they had been children, he had Charlie to keep him company, to offer him comfort when he felt lonely.

"Your boyfriend can handle it, I'm sure." Charlie's cat watches him moodily from the floor, considering clambering into his lap. Rufus scrunches his nose. He's always hated cats, especially those strays that his sister used to bring home in Costa del Sol. "You're Charlotte Shinra. No one can tell you when the proper time is for a vacation. Besides, you've just gone through such a terrible ordeal . . . wouldn't you like to rest?"

"No," she answers, almost too quickly. Her eyes widen when she looks up at his face again, having been focused on Cat. It's a stupid name, but rather endearing, he supposes. "I'm . . . I'm tired of resting."

Rufus's face hardens. Perhaps Father might allow his permanent return to the city soon, if only to help Charlie through difficult times. It's not like Reeve is doing a stellar job at it, he thinks bitterly. "What did you do to make Father so angry?" he asks, already knowing the answer. Charlie has only ever been beaten because of her mouth, never knowing when to stop talking.

Charlie lifts her chin, looking just as defiant as their father seems to believe she is. "Do you have any idea what he wanted to do to any caught members of Avalanche?"

"Kill them, I suppose. It's a fitting end, I think, considering how many casualties were borne from their want of attention."

He thinks he sees something flicker in Charlie, but perhaps he's just imagining things. "He wanted to hang them in front of the reactors, as a warning to anyone else who thinks to destroy them. And he wanted me to make that threat."

Truthfully, Rufus can understand his father's rationale behind something so gruesome, even if he doesn't quite think he would go the same route. If Father wanted to send a message, he would have all known members publicly executed on a city-wide broadcast.

Charlie runs a hand through her hair. "I should be getting to bed. Reeve should be home soon."

"Does he always come home so late?"

"Sometimes." She gets to her feet, holding a hand out for Rufus. He hesitates, accepting it and allowing his sister to pull him to his feet, but he doesn't release her hand right away, despite Charlie trying to pull away from him. She looks at their hands. "He won't be happy if he comes home to still find you here."

"Why? Is he jealous?"

Charlie frowns. "He's going to be your brother-in-law soon. The least you could do is be nice to him."

"Like he would do anything about it other than sulk. If he lacks anything, it's a backbone."

"Don't be rude, Rufus," she scolds him sharply. "If he's a little timid, it's only because you keep threatening him."

"If he treated you the way you ought to be treated, I would have no reason to threaten him."

She cocks an eyebrow. "Why are you so convinced that he's mistreating me? He's been nothing but good to me since I first met him."

Rufus huffs. "I don't even think I've ever heard you say a bad word against him."

"Nor will I."

Charlie is beautiful in her rage, truly. She looks just like him, her pointed little nose and her light blue eyes and long eyelashes, the shape of her lips, the angle of her face. He used to think she was the prettiest girl he had even seen, back when he was young. He still thinks it now.

She's probably forgotten by now, or forced the memories away, but Rufus remembers. He remembers being seven, and telling Father he was going to marry her when they were grown, not realizing that it was wrong, and once, Veld had caught them playing at kissing when they were just little kids who didn't know any better. It had been Charlie's idea, but Veld didn't want to believe it of her, his innocent little princess, so the blame had been shifted onto Rufus.

It's not like there were any other children around for them to spend time with.

He remembers being beaten badly for it by his father, so badly that he had been confined to the house for fear others might see the condition of him. Charlie had cried for hours afterwards, and after Father had gone to bed, she had snuck into his bedroom to give him a soft and childish kiss on the mouth, sneaking out before someone was able to take her back to her bed.

And he remembers his heart racing after she kissed him, unaccustomed to such genuine and loving affection.

Affection was always reserved for Charlie. Affection from their father and mother, affection from the Turks who always watched them while Father was away, affection from every man who ever breezed into her life, spoiled rotten with it.

Gods, he resents her sometimes.

Charlie sighs, glancing down at the watch on her thin wrist before looking back into his face. "Do you want to stay the night? I can make up the guest room, but if you say anything unwarranted to Reeve, I'm kicking you out."

"You can't kick me out. I pay for you to live here," he hisses.

"Don't antagonize him, Rufus. I'm serious." Charlie raises her eyebrows at him, impressing her point. "He has enough on his plate right now without you making things worse."

Rufus purses his lips. He's made her angry now. "Fine, I'll be all smiles and courtesy."

She gives him a look like she doesn't quite believe him. "Good-night, Rufus."

She's watching television in bed, with Cat curled up at her side, when Reeve comes home around one in the morning.

It's late, even for him, but Charlie is tactful enough not to mention it. He heads straight for the bedroom, looking surprised to still see her awake. She gives their cat a few strokes on his head before he runs off, rubbing against Reeve's leg before swaggering out of the bedroom.

"You didn't have to wait up for me," he says with a tired smile, removing the cuff links in his sleeves and placing them in the top drawer of their dresser.

"I don't mind," she replies, walking up to him and helping him slide out of his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair. "Rufus is here. He's asleep in the guest room."

"Fine," Reeve answers, not at all sounding concerned or frustrated. It makes her sad, his lack of a reaction. It only proves that he's been working himself lately to the point of exhaustion. "You need to get some sleep."

"Speak for yourself."

She smiles up at him, loosening his tie deftly and sliding it off around his neck, unbuttoning his shirt and pressing a kiss to the divet between his collarbones before sliding his shirt off, as well. When she looks up into his face again, it's to find Reeve a million miles away, staring slightly past her with his eyebrows furrowed.

"Reeve?" she murmurs, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting to see someone standing there. He hardly even hears her, concentrating hard on something. Charlie waves a hand in front of his face. "Reeve!"

"Hm?" He blinks a few times, turning his gaze upon her face once more.

Her smile is nervous. "Where were you?"

He shifts uncomfortably, giving his head as shake as she runs her fingers through his stiff hair, ruffling it so it all falls into his eyes. "Sorry," he says.

"Are you all right?"

It's a loaded question and she knows it. Neither of them are all right after witnessing what they did, but they've been dancing around the subject for days now, the both of them uncomfortable bringing it up, instead discussing it in a more professional sense whenever she asks him how his department is doing lately.

She hadn't expected him to take it so hard. He seems almost completely unconcerned about the damage done to his reactor, more concerned about the massive loss of life that occurred in the course of a few hours.

But it's not like it was his fault. If it was anyone's fault, it had been Charlie's for providing an overconfident Avalanche member with plans for a bomb.

Reeve smiles at her, exasperated, taking her hands in his own to kiss them once each. "I'm just glad that you're all right."

It takes him a moment to commit, but he leans in and kisses her, arms wrapping loosely and gently around her, careful not to hurt her. She could never get tired of this, being swept into his arms, being held against his broad chest, messy and desperate kisses being her greatest source of comfort.

If he knew what she had done . . . if he knew that she was the reason all of those people were killed . . .

Charlie doesn't want to imagine what might happen. He might leave her without hearing an explanation, or he might hate hate hate her. She can't stand to think about it, about this man she loves so much just abandoning her (for good reason). She can't stand to think about life without him, a life that wouldn't even be worth living anymore.

She doesn't think she'll ever find the courage to tell him the truth.

Why hasn't he told her yet?

Ten years he's known her, and almost half of those years he's spent romantically involved with her. If there's anyone who deserves the truth of things, it's her. But why is it so hard? Why is it so hard to admit to his . . . whimsical little alter-ego, his dirty little secret, a confession that might break the trust between them?

He brushes the backs of his fingers along her sharp cheekbone, one arm underneath her. She sleeps soundly, as exhausted as he feels, her lips slightly parted to allow soft breaths to filter in and out, hot against his chest.

She's been taking sleeping pills, he knows. She hasn't done that since . . .

Tseng had been the one to tell him, all those years ago: "Charlotte is a liability." Where Veld had failed, Tseng had picked up the gauntlet, making Charlie's protection and the protection of her innocence a main priority, no doubt at the request of Rufus.

He didn't really know what Tseng meant back then, but he understands now, and understands why even Rufus has failed to tell his own sister the truth of her fiancé's biggest secret.

If she knew, Reeve isn't quite sure what she would think. She might think him a traitor, might change her mind about him, might see him as just another executive at Shinra Inc. with too many secrets of his own. She might be horrified with him, betrayed and frightened and angry.

But the truth is, he's done good things with Cait Sith. Surely Charlie would understand that, would understand that he was only doing with Cait what he couldn't do himself.

But she wouldn't be satisfied until she knew everything, and he can't tell her everything. Telling Charlie everything would mean risking her own life, pushing her further towards the edge until she defects in earnest from her family and her family's company.

When he thinks about all the things Charlie doesn't know, it makes him nervous. If she did know half the things her father was so adamant from keeping from her, it would break her. If she knew about Veld, about that SOLDIER she was always batting her eyelashes at, about the horrible experiments taking place in Hojo's lab (and it's a very real possibility that even he doesn't know the entirety of what's going on in Hojo's lab), Charlie might leave Midgar and never come back, turning her back on Shinra forever.

And if she were to leave, Reeve is certain that someone would be sent after her, to silence her, to keep her from talking, to make a clean break with her before Shinra's secrets could be revealed.

He cranes his neck painfully to reach her lips, kissing her lightly to see if she'll stir. She answers with a soft kiss, hardly awake, humming when he pulls away and falling back asleep, curled up in the crook of his arm with her face nuzzled against his chest.

The burns on her neck are peeling and angry-looking, much better than the blistering burns on her side. He wants to kiss them all over, to ask her forgiveness for not being able to shield her from the blast, to beg her forgiveness for bringing her in the middle of the destruction and devastation.

Maybe tomorrow he'll have her pack her things, promising to bring her far away from Shinra, tucked away in a little corner of the world that they can make theirs.

Maybe, with her at his side, he can finally turn his own back on the company that has done nothing but beat him down into submission, that has turned him into a shell of the man he wants to be, that he used to be.

Maybe tomorrow he'll tell her the truth.

But he's been saying that for a long time now.

Charlie is gone when he wakes, and it's Rufus who accompanies him to Headquarters, surprisingly pleasant, if not a little irritable, calling him "brother" in a horribly mocking way.

She had offered to check the progress of his housing project in the Sector Seven slums, and he had ensured that a security detail followed her below the plate, as well as a Turk or two.

That had taken most of the morning, and she had called him to report that everything was going well, and several men were already inquiring about construction jobs within his department in exchange for a roof over their heads. He could use all the construction members he can, seeing as several of his employees had been killed in the bomb blast.

In the afternoon, Charlie busies herself with a memorial service by the destroyed reactor, lamenting the lives lost and holding hands with civilians and offering comfort to those that are grieving. The service is broadcasted live, and Rufus makes himself comfortable in Reeve's office by stretching out on the sofa, the both of them watching the television quietly.

It's unnerving, his proximity to Rufus, knowing that Charlie is so far away that anything could happen by the time she returns. But Rufus seems transfixed by the memorial service, eyes never leaving the screen for a moment when Charlie is being filmed.

The only words Rufus speaks during the service is after Charlie finishes giving the people a brief speech in which she offers her condolences, promising that something like this will never happen again, and that Shinra Inc.'s first priority is the peoples' safety.

Rufus turns to look at Reeve then, who's seated at his desk, half-working and half-watching, replying to incoherent e-mails and responding to meeting requests and procrastinating in general. He lifts his eyes from his computer screen when he notices Rufus watching him, however, a twisted smile on his face.

"She'll make an excellent vice president," he notes. "Don't you agree?"

Reeve nods, agreeing completely, wondering why Rufus can't go watch his sister from the television in his own office, which has been left abandoned for years.

It isn't a few minutes later that his assistant knocks on the door, entering without anyone calling her in. "Oh!" she says breathily, blushing at the sight of Rufus lounging casually inside the office. "Mr. Vice President! I'm so sorry, Director, I didn't realize you weren't alone!"

"It's fine," Reeve says quickly, noticing Rufus's eyebrow jerk upwards much like Charlie's.

His assistant places some paperwork on the corner of his desk, looking over her shoulder at Rufus. "Forgive me, Director, but . . . shouldn't both of you be attending the board meeting?"

This catches both his and Rufus's attention. "What board meeting?" Rufus snaps at her, and Reeve can only hope that he doesn't scare his brand new assistant away. "What are you talking about?"

His assistant blushes harder. "I'm sorry, sir, I heard someone else discussing it and—and, well—I—"

"It's fine. You can go," Reeve tells her before she gives herself an aneurysm.

When the door closes, Rufus sits up straight, looking thoughtfully at him. "A board meeting," he muses, stroking his cleanly-shaven chin. "Are we not part of the board, Reeve?"

Reeve purses his lips, not wanting to buy into anything Rufus may say to get a rise out of him. President Shinra is known to keep many things from his daughter's future husband, and he's used to not attending every single meeting, rather glad he doesn't have to listen to whatever terrible things Shinra is plotting.

But this doesn't sit well with Rufus, who, rightfully, should be at all board meetings as vice president.

"I can think of one reason why neither of us are in attendance at that board meeting right now," Rufus continues, and Reeve tries his hardest to ignore him, but it's difficult to do so. "What's the one thing the both of us have in common, brother?"

Reeve sighs, rubbing his temples. Shit.

Rufus stands from his place upon the sofa, strutting right up to Reeve's desk and splaying his hands upon the desktop, not concerned in the slightest about the papers he's covering. "I know my father," he says, and Reeve leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "If he's holding a meeting without the both of us, he's plotting something to do with Charlie."

"What do you propose?" Reeve scoffs, his heart fluttering a little faster. "It's not like we can just storm into the conference room and demand answers." Rufus scowls at him, clearly unhappy with this. "Don't make things worse for Charlie than they already are, please. You saw what your father did to her."

"I'm not suggesting we break down the door of the conference room," Rufus retorts coldly, as if that's the stupidest idea he's ever heard. "Are you forgetting I have the Turks at my disposal? All we need to do is get them to squeeze a little bit of information out of that incompetent, fat, sweating, stuttering—"

"Palmer?" Reeve asks, surprised.

It doesn't make much sense for Palmer to be involved in a meeting that revolves around Charlie, but nothing around here makes sense half the time. Besides, of all the other executives, Palmer is the last one he's truly concerned about, the only one likely incapable of doing actual harm to anyone, even if he tried.

Rufus looks almost delirious, too excited for a chance to squeeze information out of somebody. Surely he feels he's been slighted by his father, or perhaps he really is driven by the desire to protect Charlie. "Maybe you're actually as smart as Charlie says you are."

Reeve exhales through his nose, unable to escape the vice president, but wishing he could.

"What do you say, Director?" Rufus asks again, raising his eyebrows, extending a hand out to shake Reeve's. "Truce?"

Reeve looks at Rufus's hand for a long time before shaking it, firm and solid. "Truce."

"What is the meaning of this! Let go of me immediately! I demand to speak to the—"

There's a grunt as Palmer is pushed forcefully across the threshold of the door, stumbling into the Turks' office, sweating profusely. "You don't make demands here," comes Reno's voice, following Rufus into the dimly lit room.

Palmer looks around, eyes widening, his suit too long for him, giving the impression that he's drowning in the coarse fabric. Reeve is leaning against Tseng's desk, a little uneasy about going through with this, but at the sight of Palmer looking so frightened of him and positively small makes him feel a little bit better.

"Director . . . Mr. Vice President . . . please . . ." Palmer says, reaching into his breast pocket for a handkerchief, using it to mop his shiny forehead, but Reno swats it away, drawing a gun and pointing it at the director. "I don't know what you're doing, but the president will—"

Rufus walks right up to Palmer, standing shoulder to shoulder with Reno. It's a rather impressive and intimidating sight. "What was that, Palmer? The president will what?" Rufus hisses, bending over to put his face mere inches from Palmer's. "Tell me what you talked about during the board meeting. Did you talk about Charlie? Did you talk about my sister?"

"I—I—I—I—"

"You stuttering prick," Rufus growls, seemingly at ease with the world, Reno's gun held out to point directly between the sweating man's eyes. "Hit him."

Reno doesn't hesitate at all, and the butt of the pistol in his hand makes contact with Palmer's forehead with a loud crack! followed by blubbering sobs. His skin immediately begins to bruise, reddening against the creases in his forehead. He rocks back and forth on his feet, falling onto the sofa.

Reeve watches, quiet. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind when Rufus suggested they extract some information out of Palmer, but he should have known better, he supposes. Besides, if it gives him information about Charlie that could possibly help her, then Reeve can throw his non-existent morality out of the window for a few minutes.

Palmer, unfortunately, appeals to Reeve for help. "Director, please—! You can't let them—"

"He's not going to help you, Palmer, you pathetic little man. I'm talking to you, so look at me, not him," Rufus interrupts coldly. "What did my father say about my sister? Talk. It truly doesn't matter to me whether you live or die."

Palmer's chest heaves, and he drips sweat all over the sofa, eyes darting from Rufus to Reno to Reeve to the door and back again. His entire body seems to tremble, his face drained of all color, the bruise on his forehead very pronounced against ghostly white and almost sallow-looking skin.

"The VP asked you a question, goddamnit," Reno adds, nudging Palmer's second chin with the tip of his pistol. "If I were you, I'd answer. I got a jumpy trigger finger."

"All right, all right! I'll talk!" Palmer shouts, and Reno gives him another nudge. Reeve can feel his heart hammering, afraid that he's going to receive news about Charlie that he would rather not hear. "He—he's going to blame her for the reactor bombing—"

Reeve speaks before he can stop himself, straightening to his full height and moving closer to Palmer, standing on the other side of Reno. "What? Why would he do that?"

"He knows—he knows that she had something—could you please put your gun down!—he knows she had something to do with it," Palmer continues breathlessly, backing into the sofa cushions as if hoping to melt away. "He's going to use—to use her as a—a scapegoat—Avalanche's top informant—he's—going—to—" Reno presses the gun harder to his quivering jowls—"disown her—someone needs to claim responsibility!"

"Avalanche bombed the reactor," Reeve protests, understanding very well why neither he nor Rufus were invited to sit in on this particular meeting. "Not Charlie. Why would he want to blame her?"

"Am I supposed to know the way the president's mind works?" Palmer squeals, whining and crying, swallowing loudly. "He—he's angry about the speech—he's going to have her give a—not so hard, please!—another speech claiming responsibility—"

"Charlie almost died in that bombing!" Reeve turns to look at Rufus, who's quiet for once. He thinks so hard that steam nearly blows from his ears, his eyes narrowed to slits. "He can't make her claim responsibility! It's not true!"

"Remember where you are, Reeve, and what truth counts for among the executives of Shinra Inc.," Rufus says through gritted teeth, glancing at him. There's something bitter about his tone that suggests Rufus isn't quite as happy with Shinra as he sometimes pretends to be. "He wants someone to pin the bombing on, and then he'll have someone to punish if it happens again."

"They won't believe that shit," Reno scoffs, giving Palmer a slight break by pulling the gun back a few inches. "She's down there right now, giving babies kisses and crying with the other survivors."

"Quiet," Rufus says quickly, "I'm thinking." He taps his chin with a long, spidery finger. "What else did my father say?"

"He knows—he knows—" Palmer continues, wringing his hands together. "Avalanche is going to—to—they're going to blow mako reactor number five—"

Reeve's heart sinks. "What? When?"

"Tomorrow—it's going to happen tomorrow—"

Rufus turns to face Reno, his face stony. "Did you know about this?"

Reno's jaw clamps down tight, and he shakes his head as Palmer continues, squealing like a pig. "He's going to—to have Charlotte read the speech afterwards—oh, please don't kill me!"

"Isn't the president going to do anything about it? Heidegger? Anyone?" Reeve asks quickly, and Palmer's eyes move sickeningly around the room, nearly rolling into the back of his head. "They're not just going to allow the reactor to blow, are they?"

Palmer closes his eyes tight, nodding. Rufus, in a wild rage, grabs the gun from Reno's hand and presses it hard against Palmer's forehead, nostrils flared and his cheekbones slightly red. "Tell me, Palmer, if I let you walk out of here, what's the first thing you're going to do?"

"Go back to my office—"

"You're not going to go running to my father, are you?"

"No, sir, no, I swear it, I'll not tell a soul what happened here—"

"If you talk," Rufus says lowly, angrier than Reeve can ever remember seeing him, "you'll have to deal with the three of us, and you wouldn't last a second against the three of us, you incompetent fuck." He stands up straighter, de-cocking the gun and shoving it hard against Reno's chest.

Palmer nearly sprints from the room, tripping over the several chairs set around the conference table, breathing loudly on his way out.

The three of them are quiet for a moment. "Somethin' tells me Charlie ain't gonna be happy about this," Reno finally says, breaking the silence.

"I'll deal with my father," Rufus replies, brushing off the front of his suit and looking up at Reeve. "You deal with my sister."

"You don't think Palmer will say something?" Reeve can't help but worry. The idea of Charlie receiving another severe beating from President Shinra makes his heart race painfully fast, tired of seeing her covered in bruises and injuries. "I told you not to make it worse—"

"Don't worry," Rufus reassures him, anger flashing bright in his pale eyes. "Father won't hurt her ever again."

"That went well," Charlie sighs, stepping into the heated building and out of the cold, Tseng at her side, "even if it does look like a war zone."

Tseng hums.

"And construction below the plate is going so well. I didn't realize how quickly it would be built."

"People are eager to have a roof over their head, I think," Tseng remarks, and he's not entirely wrong, she thinks. "If you don't need anything else, Charlotte, I do have some work to do."

Charlie smiles at him. "I think I'm okay. Thanks for coming today."

Tseng's lips twitch. "Anytime."

She sighs heavily, watching Tseng make for the staircase to lead him to the elevator.

It had felt good to walk around the parts of Sectors One and Eight, to inspect the damages and see the destruction caused while offering comfort to those injured, displaced, and grieving. They had welcomed her appearance with welcome arms, had cried and applauded her hopeful speech, and while it had tugged at her heartstrings to see what she had done, it felt good to know that she could still commit to fixing things, to making it right, and with the bomb built for the next reactor (scheduled, according to Pia, for tomorrow) guaranteed to only blow the core, she's feeling slightly more confident about her subtle warfare against Shinra Inc.

As she starts up the stairs towards the elevators, she catches sight of someone very familiar running down them, looking at the ground and breathing heavily.

"Reeve?"

His head snaps up and he stops abruptly, gripping the railing so tight that his knuckles are white. His face is so pale he might have seen a ghost. "Charlie!"

Charlie allows him to kiss her hard on the mouth in the middle of the staircase, taking care to place his hands in a safe area. "What are you doing? Are you all right?" she asks, looking him over with wide eyes. "Why are you sweating so much?"

Reeve sighs, running a hand through his slick hair and glancing around to make sure they aren't in anyone's way. "Can I talk to you?"

"Of course," she smiles.

"It's important."

"I'm listening."

"Could we speak privately?"

"Oh, yes please," Charlie says, continuing to beam at him. She takes his hand, faltering at the nervous look on his face. "Reeve, what's wrong? You don't look well."

"I'll explain everything in a moment. Why don't we go home for lunch?"

"You going to make me something? I'm starved."

"Yes, yes, anything. Just . . . come with me."

And without offering her any other explanation, he drags her by the hand back down the stairs and back out the front doors without so much as looking back once.