AN: hello again, everyone. Glad to see you all here. It's been a while since I posted anything; my apologies. Things have been up and down, but I am so excited to present this chapter. I don't know how I feel about it, but I didn't want to keep redoing it. I was originally planning on doing 2 updates, but considering how long I've taken to do this chapter, I thought it best to just get this one out here now. Without further stalling, enjoy :)

Deputy Douglas examined me after I retold my account again. He tapped the pencil along the metal table and peered through his notes again. "And Captain Wesker was still in the lab when it exploded?"

The lights overhead agitated the pain in my head, making it throb. I messaged my temples, fighting the heaviness of my eyes. "The last time I saw him, he was in the labs. I don't know what happened to him after I was attacked." I muttered and shifted in the hard chair, wincing as I put weight on my ankle. "As far as I'm aware, we took the only exit out of that hell hole, and Wesker had no way of escaping before the blast.

The deputy closed his notebook silently and turned his attention to Detective Edwards. The detective had remained silent through most of the interrogation, only jumping in with an odd question for clarification. He kept up his silence and shook his head towards his partner. The deputy dragged a hand through his hair, his eyes never once wavering from me. He sighed, "We don't have any more questions."

"What'll happen now," a sense of dread crept over me. After the horrors of last night, I didn't think there would be anything left to be scared of, but the idea of moving on from last night filled me with a new foreboding.

"We can't say. It's still an ongoing investigation," the detective said. "If we have any more questions, we'll call you back."

"Your parents are down in the lobby waiting for you." The deputy added.

I froze. The throbbing in my ankle and the pain in my head faded away. Put me back in the mansion with the monsters; I know how to handle it. But how does one look at your parent's faces and try to explain that their son isn't coming back? How do you answer their questions of why? How? What is there to say?

My body refused to rise out of the seat.

The deputy narrowed his eyes toward me. He leaned over, rested a hand on my shoulder, and spoke softly. "Your parents have been informed upon your arrival. I know you're tired, but if you need a moment to yourself before you head down there, we won't rush-"

A knock on the door sounded out. All our heads turned as Marvin appeared. His grim face brightened at the corner of his eyes when they found mine.

"Lieutenant, we were about to bring her to the lobby." The deputy stood straight.

Marvin waved the man off. "I came here to take her myself." He smiled at me, "Whenever you're ready, Addison."

I faltered to my feet, propping myself up against the table for more support as I put weight on the tender ankle. Marvin was beside me in a heartbeat, and shifted my weight to him. Once I was secured beside him, he turned his attention back to the two men.

"I may need the both of you's down in the lobby," Marvin sighed. "The press has swarmed the place, and I want the three of them out of here with as little fuss as possible."

We made our way to the lobby in absolute silence, like a funeral procession. News spread through the station like wildfire at this point. Everyone was quiet as the four of us passed by; their silent stares, filled with questions, gnawed at me. Marvin silently squeezed my shoulder and nodded as we walked by. My dry eyes burned as we made our way towards the main hall.

Commotion filled the hall as we passed the press room. Shouting banged against the closed doors as the press rattled off questions. Chief Irons's voice boomed over them all, urging them to settle down as he answered one question.

The main lobby wasn't as busy as I feared it would be. Only a few people from the press waited outside. They noticed us and began to walk hurriedly over, but the Deputy and the Detective blocked us from their view. I leaned in closer to Marvin, only daring to sneak a peak at the journalists as we hurried past them. I met the gaze of one young journalist and recognized her as a student from the same program as me, only a year below. Her eyes widened, and I could tell she wanted to say something, but the deputy blocked her. As we walked by, I could feel her eyes on the back of my head.

When I turned my head forward, I caught my first glimpse of mom and dad. They were both seated on the bench. Their eyes were red-rimmed and downcast. Dad wrapped his arms tightly around mom, who had her head resting against his chest. Our approaching footsteps jolted him from his daze. His eyes frantically scanned past the Deputy and Marvin and landed on me.

"Addison," his voice was hoarse, but his eyes beamed when they found mine. He jumped up, startling mom, but her shock instantly wore off when she saw me.

Her gaping eyes welled with tears. An uncontrolled cry escaped her mouth as she bolted towards me, wrapping her arms in a suffocating embrace. Her cracked lips scraped against my cheeks, forehead and every square inch of my face as she uttered incoherent things. I almost buckled under the weight were it not for her arms glued around me.

Large hands stroked my hair, and over the sound of mom's whimpering cries, I heard dad's. A sudden weakness grasped my limbs as my head swivelled around. Dad stood beside me, tears stained his puffy face. Fatigue and stress ate away at every corner of his body, but it lifted once our eyes met. He mumbled my name and grabbed ahold of me in his arms. I could hear his erratic heart ticking under his chest as he stroked my head.

At that moment, the damn inside me broke. Hot tears bubbled, falling from my eyes and down my face like a river. It ached, but I couldn't stop once it started. I clutched onto dad's shirt and crumpled. He folded his body on top of mine and cried under his breath.

My mind switched off. Voices murmured around me, but I didn't care what they said. Dad rubbed my back and took the weight off my ankle. Hands guided me to the doors, where the bright sunshine burned my eyes.

The flashes of cameras cast an outline over Marvin as he shielded us from the onslaught of reporters. Dad hugged me close and draped his jacket over my head as we made our way out of the R.P.D., our first steps together as a family that will never again be whole.

It wasn't as silent as one would expect a graveyard to be. People clumped together in small groups and chatted amongst themselves, some loudly, others more of a hushed whisper. The ground's keeper was mowing the lawn nearby, and a slight breeze passed through the leaves. The warmth tickled my already heated face.

The collar of my dress clung to my sweaty neck as I fiddled with it. The air was so humid it caught in the back of my throat with every breath. I shifted in the chair provided for me, thankful to be off my feet at last. Passerbys paid their respects with a murmured apology and a pat on my shoulder. I returned their pity-filled faces with a perfectly crafted smile and a head nod.

The sea of black clothing encased me like a blanket. Everywhere my eyes settled, there was black—except for Joe's bandana on my lap. I tugged and knotted the material around my fidgeting fingers and watched the groups of people.

Aunt Heather was talking to mom off to my left. She insisted on staying to help us clean out Joe's apartment and take care of the house during this time. Mom politely refused. Her voice was void of any force where it was ordinarily stern and strong. Last night, I found her, again, sitting in the living room staring at the family wall of portraits, a family album opened on her lap but forgotten. Dried tears were plastered on her pale face.

Dad was facing away from mom, conversing with our long-time neighbours and my grandfather. Their voices were quieter, almost whispers. Aside from our reunion at the R.P.D. a few days prior, dad has been holding it together, but everything was wrong about it. His usual bright, casual smile was too tight now; it crinkled the heavy crow's feet at the corner of his tired eyes. His back, once proud and tall, slouched. His hands, which were always flying about when he spoke, hung loosely at his side save for his thumb, playing with his wedding band.

I jumped as someone sat beside me. Turning abruptly, I spotted Marvin. "Didn't mean to scare you." He removed his uniform-issued hat and eased into the chair. His eyes fixed on the casket before us.

Mom wanted it. She thought it would be easier on everyone if there were something to see and say farewell to.

"How's your ankle?" Marvin breathed.

I toyed with the bandana and shrugged my shoulders. "It's okay. Still sore when I walk, but it's not broken, at least."

"I was just talking with your folks. They're strong and lucky to have each other during this time."

The photo of mom smiling in the arms of that researcher flashed before my eyes. "Yea…." My voice cracked.

Marvin's eyes softened. Reaching up, he gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Things will get better, eventually. For now, stick together; you will need each other to lean on during this time."

"I don't know what to do, Marvin. They're….broken."

His eyes lingered on the bandana as he spoke. "I know it seems that way, Addison. And maybe a part of that is true, but you're the glue that can keep them stuck together so they don't fall apart and lose themselves. It's a lot to ask of someone your age and in your situation, but you'll have to be the stronger one right now-you already are, but hold on a little while longer. It'll get better. I promise."

A long shadow cast over his face. "Addison?" Chris' rough yet quiet voice filled the silence.

I shifted in the seat, cranked my neck up, and saw three sets of eyes staring down at me. Chris, Rebecca and Jill stood silently with their eyes and heads lowered in respect. Their S.T.A.R.S uniforms looked crisp and brand new as if they had just come out of the store. Rebecca's smile didn't touch her eyes, and the bags under them made her appear older than her young eighteen-year-old self.

Marvin cleared his throat, put his hat back on, and leaned toward my ear. "I'll be in touch later. My condolences to you and your family. Excuse me, everyone." The trio parted so Marvin could leave.

Chris opened his mouth, but Rebecca beat him to it. "We didn't mean to cut your conversation short."

"My condolence to you and your family," Jill added. "Joe was….a good friend and a great teammate. He'll be missed greatly. I know he's happy that you made it out of there safely. He cared about you a great deal."

Chris was once again cut off, with Rebecca chirping in. "I didn't know him as well as everyone else, but he was kind to me when I started in the S.T.A.R.S unit."

Jill nudged Rebecca's shoulder, and the younger woman's eyes widened and shifted up to Chris. With her mouth forming an 'O', she nodded. "I actually had something to talk about with Marvin, Jill. Did you see where he went?"

"I'll show you," Jill smiled under her breath, gave Chris a swift side-eye and led Rebecca toward Marvin, who had found my dad alone and was in the middle of a conversation.

"Mind if I sit?" Chris pointed to the seat Marvin recently vacated.

I nodded.

Chris eyed the casket, and a weird look passed over his face, but it was gone before I could discern it further.

"How are things at work?" I asked.

Chris tore his eyes away from the casket and settled into the chair. He gave a half-hearted shrug. "It's….been tough. We haven't had any luck with Irons." He pointed to my wrapped ankle. "How's the ankle doing?"

"Still sore, but not broken."

He nodded with a frown. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. His feet bounced, and his hands could hardly remain still; he clamped them over his lap and cleared his throat. Finally, he raised his eyes to mine. "How are you handling things?"

A heavy sigh escaped my lips, and gave him a weak smile. "I'm fine."

He shot me a doubtful look. "Listen, no one expects you to be fine. I was in that mansion right beside you, and I won't lie and say, 'I'm fine.'"

There was so much to say, yet the prying eyes around us made it impossible. "It's a lot, ok? I don't know where I'm going or what to do. I always had Joe to talk to and help me through…stuff like this. He was the only one who understood me, truly." My chest constricted. "I don't know what to do, Chris. It seems no matter what I do, it'll be a mess, and I'll have to pick and choose."

He searched my face. His brows furrowed, and his lips were pinched. After a moment, he let out a breath. "Your mom-she made her choice, Addison. You had no part in it, so don't sit here and blame yourself for the future choices you'll have to make. What about your dad?"

My eyes began to burn, and my voice struggled. "What about him?"

"He deserves to know, right?"

"It's not the best time, Chris. How could I unload something like that after Joe's death?"

Chris shook his head, "Unfortunately, Adds, it'll never be the best time for that discussion, but it still needs to be had."

The pain in my chest twisted. "But if that secret is revealed, it'll be made public about her involvement. My parents already lost so much as it is. I can't add shame to that list. The news would drag them in the mud. They're already getting flack for my involvement with the mansion."

A weak sob choked out of me. Tears blurred my vision as I clutched the bandana to my chest. I didn't flinch when Chris wrapped an arm around my shoulders and brought me close to his body. He gave me a gentle squeeze and reassured me repeatedly that everything would be okay. But how could he make such a promise? Nothing will ever be alright as it stands right now; it will surely fall apart once I tell my parents about mom's secret. I leaned in closer, squeezed my eyes shut, and relished in the comfort of his hug. The warmth of his arms warmed my tired muscles-

"Addison?" Mom's voice cut through the moment. I jerked back from Chris and swung my head around. Her face filled with worry, and her eyes red with fresh tears. The question, is everything alright here? Written on her face.

Chris cleared his throat and stood from his chair to face my mom. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss, ma'am. Joe was a great teammate and an even better friend."

"Thank you, Chris," she shook his hand. "Joe always talked about you. Thank you for looking after him."

"I think he looked after me more." A soft smile touched his eyes. "If you need anything, any of you," he turned his attention back to my mom, "don't be afraid to ask. I know the members of S.T.A.R.S. would be more than happy to assist you at this time."

"How kind of you. Thank you." She answered curtly.

He gave me one final nod before disappearing into the crowd where Rebecca and Jill waited for him. Their S.T.A.R.S logos shined in the sun as they turned and walked away.

My fingers glided across the video game cases. A different memory flashed through my head as my fingers stopped on each game. I pulled Mega Man out, turned it over and read the back. Fingerprints and smudges dotted the case. The manual looked as if it was read a hundred times— and I knew it was. Joe's laughter filled my head. I could still taste the cold Coca-Cola and its fizz in my mouth, and Joe's arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders.

Promise me, Adds. Promise me…

The case cracked and strained under my shaking hands. Tears burned the back of my eyes. I didn't bother wiping them away.

A bang from the kitchen startled me. The game slipped from my hands with a cry and clattered to the ground.

"Addison?" Mom's face appeared around the corner. "You okay?" Her bloodshot and red eyes followed my gaze down to the floor, between my feet, where the game lay. Her mouth pinched closed, and tears welled in her eyes before she could turn her head away.

She came forward without a sound, scooped up the game with a sad smile and ran her hands over it. "Joe would spend every penny he made at his summer job on these damn games. I used to say they'd rot his brain-" Her voice cracked. "I'd give anything to come downstairs and see him sitting on his chair playing them again."

I watched every tear trail down her cheeks in contained silence. Heat boiled in my stomach. It bubbled over and spilled across my body, searing through my veins and prickling my skin. The boiling rose into my throat. I swallowed, choking on it until I couldn't hold it down any longer. It spilled out of me into a resounded, bitter, "Why?"

It froze the tears on mom's face. Slowly, her gaze rose and settled on me. Her wide eyes, stained red from the tears, couldn't hide her confusion and fear. "What?" Her voice came out like a tiny fawn's cries.

My fingers jerked and twitched at my side. More of the boiling feeling spilled out before I could stop it. "I know."

"Wh-know what?"

I steeled my voice and turned to face her fully. "I know what you've been doing. About him."

"You're tired and upset. I'll get the plates ready before Dad comes back. Just sit down and-"

I grabbed her wrist, cutting off her retreat. "I am tired. I am upset-" a sob interrupted the beginning of my rant. "No!" Mom reached for me, but I shoved her away. "I know about your affair!"

We both froze. Either or too afraid to breathe.

Mom's face drained of blood. Her mouth worked, but she couldn't make a sound. "How-"

"All those late nights. All those no-shows for events. All those nights, dad and I sat alone at the table! Why?" I screamed.

She flinched. Her head shaking. "It wasn't meant to be like this…" Her whole body started to shake.

"How could you do this? To dad? To us?"

Both our attentions flung to the front door as it cracked open. Dad's body shuffled inside with the bag of food and drinks held clumsily in his arms. "I'm back." He shifted his gaze up and paused in his steps. His head cocked as he looked between mom and me. Slowly, he took a step forward. "Everything…all right?"

A horrified look flashed across mom's face.

Dad saw the look, and his voice took on a different note. "What's going on? Hun? Adds?"

I felt cold.

Dad's face was pale, making the bags under his eyes darker. He lost weight since Joe's death. A breeze could have knocked him over at any moment. I bolted out of the apartment. Dad's voice called my name behind me.

My feet thudded down the hall and stairs. My heart hammered in sync with my feet. My throat burned.

I stumbled outside and into a stranger. He stared at me as I moved aside and kept running. My feet carried me down the street on autopilot. I had no clue where I was going or what I was going to do, but I couldn't stop. My head swam. My lungs burned with every gaspy breath I took.

I turned the next corner, colliding with someone. I fumbled back with an apology, hiding my red and blotchy tear-stained face. I tried to take a step, but the person reached out to stop me.

Their soft hand gripped my shoulder gently. "Are you all right?"

I twisted around with a jittery jerk and found a woman with short blonde hair, a concerned look, and an R.P.D. uniform. I remember seeing her before. Her name was Rita.

Recognition flashed across her face. "You're Addison, right?" Her Southern drawl was more noticeable now. She plucked a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to me. Grateful, I took and dabbed my eyes. "If you're looking for Lieutenant Branagh, he's on his way now. Stay here with me until he comes back."

I shook my head. A fresh set of sobs burst from my mouth as I crumpled to the pavement. The tiny stones and heat bit into my exposed legs, but I didn't move.

"Rita?" The deep tone of Marvin's voice came from across the R.P.D parking lot. "What's going on?" His footsteps quickened towards us.

"She ran into me crying. I don't know what's wrong."

Marvin's shadow covered me. Swiftly, he knelt beside me, resting a hand on my back. "Addison? Look at me. Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?"

I could hear Rita's feet crunching under the pavement as she tossed a quick, cautionary glance around the parking lot.

I shook my head. My lungs spasmed.

"Go to the cruiser, Rita. I'll be a moment." Only after her footsteps faded away did Marvin lean in and whisper, "Addison, what's wrong?"

"I-I can't….anymore," the sobbing wouldn't stop. My ribs hurt, and my vision started to blur on the edges.

"I can drive you home-"

"NO!" I jerked up, startling Marvin back.

He raised his hands, "All right. Not home." He sighed and looked over my body as a precaution. "Hospital? Friend's house?"

"No," my voice shook.

"Lieutenant?" Another cautious voice spoke up behind us.

Marvin swept around. "Redfield."

"I heard the commotion by the steps." His footsteps wavered. "What's-Addison!"

Embarrassment flushed my face. I hated crying-least in broad daylight in a parking lot.

Chri's face appeared on the other side of me, his worry evident. "Adds, are you hurt?"

"Redfield, what are you doing out here?"

Chris cleareed his throat, his brows furrowed. "I was leaving work for the day."

"I have to run patrol right now, and I have no one else I can trust. Can you take her with you? Considering everything that happened, I think you'd be best suited for it. Addison?"

Chris' place is the best option. No one knows about it, and it would be easier to explain things to Chris. I nodded my head.

"No problem. I can get her. Here." He patted my back and gave me a closed-lipped smile. "Can you stand on your own?"

"Yes," my voice was hoarse with crying. I wobbled to my feet.

"I'll call you later," Marvin nodded to Chris before looking at me. "I'll contact your parents-" he raised a hand before I could interject, "I'll tell them you're safe with a friend. I don't want them on my ass. Don't think this is over; I want to talk to you later." His eyes narrowed, but there was no malicious intent behind the stare.

With one final nod, Marvin started towards his cruiser, leaving Chris and me in the parking lot.

"Ready to go?" Chris asked.

"Here." Chris offered me a cold glass of water after I settled in at his apartment.

The water chilled and soothed my raw throat. "Thank you," I uttered and took another sip.

Chris's apartment was smaller than Joe's and far less cluttered. An old pizza box and an empty beer can sat on the coffee table. No pictures hung on the walls, and the only personal memorabilia in the apartment was his jacket draped over the armchair and a single photograph of Chris with a young smiling girl sitting on the end table.

"Thanks for letting me stay here."

Chris jerked in the armchair and cranked his attention towards me. He blinked. "Oh, no problem. You feeling better?"

I nodded. "I-I had to leave. I told my mom I knew about….about her affair," I heard Chris' sharp intake of breath and kept going. "She denied everything at first. But that quickly fell apart, and she confessed."

"How's your dad holding up?"

I bit back a hiccup. "I don't know. He walked in just as I started yelling, but my mom and I said nothing. I ran out of Joe's apartment before anything could be said. I wonder if she told him…."

The sight of dad at the apartment broke my heart. First, he lost his son, then his daughter ruined his marriage not long after the funeral. What's going to happen to our family now?

Chris' hand came to rest on my knee. "Addison, I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to go through this-least of all, right now. I said it before if you need anything— a place to stay— you're more than welcome to stay here for as long as you need."

The thought of home had my body in knots. "I don't want to burden you."

"Oh, yes, burdening me from my busy apartment life," he smiled.

A dry laugh croaked out of me. "Well, your apartment is much more organized and cleaner than Joe's."

Chris furrowed his brows, and his mouth tightened.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Not the best time."

"There will never be a good time anymore." I scooted back and patted the empty couch cushion.

He contemplated for a moment before settling beside me with a warry sigh. "It's the R.P.D—well, Irons."

"What did he do now?"

His hands balled at his side, and his breathing quickened. "He won't listen. We've told him countless times about the situation, but he just brushes us off as looney and traumatized." He unloaded and jumped to his feet. "I know he was the one to spread rumours about our blood tests returning positive for drugs. Now everyone keeps whispering at work."

"The bastard," I hissed.

How dare he do this to S.T.A.R.S….

"He told me to take the rest of the week off after I tried to talk to him again. That's when I ran into you and Marvin in the parking lot."

"He's trying to silence us. We can't let him."

"You got that right," Chris' shoulders dropped. "But what can we do? Irons is against us, and the R.P.D. thinks we're crazy."

"We don't have to deal with the R.P.D or Irons. We write our own story and publish it. We get the word out."

"We'll get Jill and Rebecca on this as well."

A new light flashed across Chris' eyes, a familiar light I used to see in his gaze before the mansion incident, before the cannibal killings when we were all young and carefree. A smile touched his lips, crinkling the bags under his eyes.

Tension slid off my shoulders like water in a shower. The soft fabric of the couch welcomed my tired back. I eased into the cushion with a soft sigh, catching Chris's attention—the plans he was making out loud cut off.

"You think the plan won't work?" He sat back down.

"Hm?" With each breath I drew in, my eyelids grew heavier until they closed completely. "No, it'll work. We just need….to collect— " a yawn cut me off.

Chris' voice grew further away. The last thought to go through my mind was mom's secret.

I awoke to a banging on the door. Someone fumbled near me, whispering a quiet "shit" under their breath. It was Chris.

He appeared from the kitchen, skirting by the couch while throwing me an apologetic look. The person at the door knocked again, causing Chris to call out that he heard them.

I sat up, my back popping. The blanket covering me fell across my legs, making my exposed arms prickle with the cool air. Sunlight bled through the living room windows, and the smell of bacon wafted in the air.

Chris pulled the door open and froze. "Mar—Lieutenant?"

"Is she still here?" Marvin's voice sounded hesitant as his face peered around Chris' shoulder; he tensed as our eyes locked. "I was hoping you weren't." His shoulders deflated as he shook his head.

The haze of sleep dissipated in an instant. I stood up. "What's wrong?" My heart was in my throat.

I made my way over to the door. Tension zapped the air. My attention switched to Marvin's hands as they pulled out a set of handcuffs.

"Addison Frost, you are under arrest for interfering in an active investigation, interfering with S.T.A.R.S in an active raid, disobeying city emergency acts, and trespassing." He reached for me.

Chris' hand shot out and grabbed Marvin's arm. "What are you doing?" He hissed.

Marvin's discomfort grew on his face, but he stood tall. "Step aside, Redfield. These aren't my orders."

"Who's?" he demanded.

"Irons."

"Bullshit." Chris stood between Marvin and myself.

"Redfield, I'm warning you. Don't. Do. This. Don't play into their games." Marvin reached up, tossed Chris' hand off his arm, and stepped towards me. He turned me around and placed the restraints on me. I didn't have it in me to fight it.

Chris stood off to the side, eyes wide and face slack. "Addison? What do I do here?"

"Just do as he says. Don't fight it. Get Jill and Rebecca and do the story."

Marvin escorted me out of the apartment, leaving Chris in the doorway, alone. "You've done it now," Marvin grumbled, but his face was tight with worry. Sweat shone on his forehead, and he swallowed loudly.