***Chapter 57***

**Ali's POV**

Maybe texting Aria had been a mistake. I hadn't thought there would be any harm, after all if Jason was going to reach out, Aria was the most likely. Either her or Spencer. And Aria normally wasn't as aggressive in her counter questioning. But she must have been worried about him. The call in and of itself had said that much. I didn't think that anything I said would send her further into panic. Or reveal too much. The fight with Jason had left me feeling guilty the last two days. And fear had been gnawing at me the longer that he didn't respond to my calls. I had thought after the first few hours of taking some space, he would come back. And we could have a calm conversation.

Was he on a bender? Is that why he wasn't answering the 50 plus calls? I was so close to just telling the police that he was missing. It was long enough that I could file a missing persons report, right? I frowned at my phone, the guilt rising. I didn't know what I would do if I was the reason for him to relapse.

The door slamming pulled me from my thoughts, I had heard the car pulling up. Hoping it was Jason, but knowing it was likely my dad. He'd left for a meeting with Tanner this morning, not that he'd told me anything else. Footsteps came into the kitchen, and my heart sunk when it was in fact my dad.

"Oh, I hadn't expected you to be home." he sounded genuinely startled to see me. "I thought you might be with the girls."

I quirked my eyebrow, intentionally mimicking my mom's old habit. Sure, I'd been leaving the house slightly more in the last few days, given that he was spending more of his time away and not keeping quite such a tight leash on my movements. But that didn't mean that I was gone all the time.

"Nope, working at home today." I replied, tone clipped. "Good meeting with Tanner?"

His mouth twisted down in a scowl and his eyes hardened. It was too much like a jab at him, and a reminder of his failings that put him on the defensive. "I'm not discussing this with you, Alison."

His tone was meant to be one that brooked no arguments. One that he tried to bust out when he wasn't in the mood for a fight, but it had never actually worked before. Both my mom and I had kept pushing, even after he'd drawn his 'hard line in the sand' as my mom had called it. While it was trying to be authoritative and decisive, it really just meant that he was more likely to give something away. A lot of Jason's habits were built around our dad's after all.

"No, you're just discussing things with the cops." I needled.

"I have a meeting in the Philly office today. I won't be home for dinner." he ignored my remark, moving towards his study.

"He's my brother. Don't I have a right to know about him?" I followed after, it wasn't the best rhetorical standing, but better than dropping it altogether.

"He's not any part of this family. Hasn't been in a very long time." he grabbed his briefcase from where it sat beside his desk. Popping it open to place some papers roughly inside.

"You don't get to make decisions like that. Like it or not he's our family, and you never should have hid him from us in the first place." I snapped at him.

He whirled around, face a picture of rage. His skin had flushed red and his nostrils were flared sharply. "Leave it alone, Alison. I won't tell you again."

My response died on my tongue as I tried so hard not to flinch back from his anger. It was more rage than I had ever seen from him. The tone familiar from overheard fights between my parents, but never up close and directed at me. I had always been Daddy's little princess, sure I had pestered him before, but he'd always given in before. But now, I had hit his limit I had pushed him further than ever and whatever sway I had held over him in the past was nothing compared with his feelings around Charles. I had played my hand too early and pushed that boundary too hard.

"I'll be home later." he left.

No apology for the fight that had just taken place. Not even a real goodbye. I stayed where I stood frozen in a combination of fear and shock. He had never responded like that before, and the way he had looked in that moment had reminded me of some of the people I had met on the run. The way that they turned from friendly to cruel at the drop of a hat. Memories of that cruelty turning into bruises on my skin as one too many seeming friends took everything they could off me and left me broken. It was too familiar to see again on the face of my father. On autopilot, I returned to the kitchen walking away from the scene of the fight. And somehow I ended up sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee resting on the counter in front of me.

When had that happened? It was like a blink in the haze. Time skipping that I hadn't experienced since I had been back. I went to take a drink only to realize that my face was stiff, tear tracks passing down my face and drying there. I swallowed quickly, the coffee cooled slightly from it's heating plate.

"I should check in on Lorenzo." I spoke aloud, using it as a means of bringing my attention back to the moment. Things had taken such a turn this morning that I needed to break out of the haze that had settled over me.

I had the paperwork that he had dropped off a few days ago, that I had gotten filled out. But I hadn't wanted to bother him while he rested. I felt at least a little responsible for the injuries that he had sustained. And I didn't want it to leave a mark on the start of our relationship. Lorenzo was the only person I could think of that immediately saw the good in me, when everyone else in town was positive that I was evil. It had been refreshing to have someone have faith that I could be responsible and to fight for me. Even the girls had abandoned me before, needing absolute reassurance before they put their trust back into me. And they still iced me out to some degree.

With a semi-solid plan in mind, I collected my purse and the papers to head over to Lorenzo's apartment. He lived in one of the few complexes downtown, well near to downtown. Rosewood wasn't that large that there were a ton of options to choose from. But his was a little closer to downtown than Hollis, which was where most of the rentals were centered. I threw the lock on the door as I headed out front, before spotting the cop car. I could practically feel my heart drop to my feet as I looked out at them. Sure, Lorenzo had pulled some strings to get a nicer cop on my house most of the time. But that didn't mean that most of the other officers stationed out front were terribly kind about me. After learning that I didn't like what they had to say about me, they had really only lowered their volume.

"Where are you heading?" the one on the passenger side asked, getting out of the car, I could at least see that his badge said Lawrence.

"Just running some errands downtown." I lied, not wanting to have to say that I was going over to Lorenzo's apartment.

I didn't want to deal with the judgement that would inevitably come with admitting that to them. I had seen several of the officers scowling when they saw him pull up to visit me at the house, as is. Going over to his apartment while he was injured would just draw more scorn, and probably increase the volume of their comments about me again.

"We'll make sure to have officers in the area." he stated, I didn't want to call it a threat though that's far more what it felt like.

I forced a smile before heading towards my car. I hadn't needed to leave the house since I had gotten back Monday night from the police station. It was uncomfortable, feeling them scrutinize my movements, even as I pulled away the sensation of being watched didn't dissipate. Since I had been back in Rosewood it felt like every move I made had been watched, and talked about. Adding on to the hair raising sensation of being stalked by A. It made staying in the house so much more comfortable and safe. I forced my shoulders to relax and loosened my grip around the steering wheel. Being tense wouldn't help anything, I could fake calm until it helped. Once I had parked down the street from Lorenzo's apartment, I stepped out of the car with grace and confidence, tossing my hair over my shoulder before hoisting my purse up. Appearance meant everything. Especially in a town like Rosewood. I idly watched the other people around, not giving them my full attention, but keeping an eye on the responses all the same. Weakness would be smelled like blood in the water.

I made it up to Lorenzo's door and knocked before realizing that I hadn't told him I was coming over. He had sent me his address the previous week, planning to meet up some time. And now I realized how foolish it would be to just assume that he was at home. I thought back to how he had been after the incident at the arcade, he had looked tired and definitely worse for wear. But he had been up to driving, which meant he wasn't actually housebound at the moment. I should have called ahead.

Just then the door swung open, revealing a rumpled Lorenzo. His features were relaxed, like he had just woken up, and he looked slightly confused. Lounge pants and a wrinkled tee confirmed that he had been napping, probably hadn't gotten dressed yet today. Or given that it was only mid morning, he might have been sleeping in. But his lips pulled up into a smile when he saw me, easing some of my fears.

"Hey, what's up? I wasn't expecting you." he asked, voice still thick with sleep as he opened the door wider, a clear invitation.

"Thought I would come drop off the papers and see how you were holding up."

I stepped into the apartment and was surprised at the combination of reasonably tidy and disorder. The books were arranged on shelves, along with a small collection of movies and video games. There wasn't any artwork on the walls. But there were a couple piles of clothing on the floor, as well as blankets strewn across the couch. Dishes piled up in the sink and spread out onto the counter, along with a couple take out containers. The air was slightly stale, not ripe with the unwashed scent of bodies but clearly the apartment hadn't been opened to fresh air in a bit, he must have been staying at home and trying to rest rather than venturing out, or even opening his windows up.

"You didn't need to do that. I could have come over to get them."

"I wanted to." I assured, offering him a smile to try and ease the concern that had etched itself into his face. "How are you? Looks like your arm is still sore."

I nodded my head to indicate the sling that was still holding his arm in place. What little I had seen him move didn't seem as stiff as the other day. But that coud just be where he was at with his pain meds. The utterly relaxed expression on his face made me think they were working well.

"Still a bit sore. But I've been sleeping a lot. Should hopefully be back up in a few days."

It was so similar to how he had answered before that I worried a little. But it could just be that he was trying not to worry me about how he was actually doing. Rather than deliberately trying to keep things from me. I pushed down the paranoid thoughts, instead focusing on his well being. I saw at least three different takeout containers on the counter, catching my eye for a moment.

"Yeah, I haven't really been up for cleaning. I was just gonna lay down for a nap." he noticed where my attention was.

"I could help, if you want." I offered, trying to reduce the judgement that he was feeling. "It can't be easy with your arm."

"You don't have to do that." he rebuffed, it felt like a rote response. That the appropriate thing to do was to say no, but that he might actually appreciate the help.

"I'd be happy to. Why don't you grab a seat and I can at least get the kitchen taken care of." I reached out to his arm, giving a squeeze of reassurance and a little contact.

"Are you sure?" his face had grown more serious, a sharpness coming to his gaze to analyze my response.

"Absolutely." I repeated the assurance.

He leaned down towards me and gave me a quick kiss before heading over to the couch. I saw him sprawl out across the cushions, long limbs stretching out as he relaxed into the arms. I basically watched the tension leave him as the effort of standing stopped. He must have really been hurting. I could feel the soft smile on my face as I moved into the kitchen. It was maybe a little forward, offering to clean his kitchen. But I wanted to help take care of him. Especially because he had been injured trying to protect one of my brothers from the other. This also just felt easy, like falling into a routine with Lorenzo would be the simplest thing to do. Seeing the pain and tightness slip off his face and out of his body because I was there to help take some of the load made me feel more like a partner in a relationship, rather than the awkward early stage we actually were at. It also made it feel more like an adult relationship than I'd had before, which felt like it would be a good thing. I cleared the takeaway containers from the counter first, dumping them into the garbage can. It would need to be taken out, but I needed Lorenzo for that, I had no idea where his dumpster was. Instead, I got the dishwasher emptied of the half load of clean dishes, apparently it had been easier to pull individual dishes out than unload the whole thing. And made quick work of the dishes. Overall, the whole job, including wiping down the counters, only took about 10 minutes. Light snores and deep breathing from the couch told me that even that much time would have been too much for Lorenzo right now.

I was suddenly in the awkward position of not knowing if I should wake him or just leave. I didn't want to push too much, and explore the rest of his apartment to find a hamper to deal with the clothes that were strewn about the living room. But just hanging around waiting for him to wake up also felt strange.

"Lorenzo?" I called, after washing my hands for a last time and turning towards the couch.

He shifted a little in his sleep, breathing changing as though he had heard me. Before he relaxed again, clearly falling back into that deeper sleep. The pain meds they had him on must be really effective if they were knocking him out like that. It didn't feel like the right thing to do to stay. I deposited the papers on his cleaned kitchen counter, pausing for a few extra moments to see if he had woken. I snuck a peak into his fridge for a moment of indulged sneaking, fully intending only to see if he had the makings of food. But was met with a box of pizza and a few protein shakes, but not much else. I could feel my mouth pulling downwards at that fact. He wouldn't get better not taking care of himself and just relying on what could be delivered to his apartment. I could change that at least, I didn't have all the necessities of soup making at home right now, but I could dig out my grandma's chicken noodle soup recipe and get that going for him.

With a plan in mind, I moved over towards the couch, pulling one of the blankets that had fallen from the couch to the floor over him. He gave no response in his sleep, only the slow steadying pace of his breathing as he relaxed further and further into his nap. I grabbed my purse from where it lay on the counter and glanced back over my shoulder one last time before heading out, flipping the lock on the doorknob as I closed the door.

I was a little worried about how long it was taking him to recover from his injury, I realized walking back to my car. It must have been worse than he was letting on if he was still laid out most of the day from pain killers. I was almost surprised that they had let him leave the hospital so quickly. But then again, they tended to let people leave if they could walk on their own it seemed, given the quick release of the girls after their apparent month of starvation and torture.

The kitchen was bursting with the familiar smells of comfort and childhood. The combination of ingredients simmering away on the stove brought me back to all the times that my mom had made Jason or me this soup anytime we had the flu as a kid. She had sworn that homemade soup had incredibly healing powers, far superior to any canned soup that we had seen on commercials. So I had suffered the judgement of the cops outside when I had left again for more errands shortly after returning home, needing the ingredient list from the cookbook that couldn't be searched online. I could feel my lips purse at the idea the comments Lawrence was sure to have made when I made it back inside. That my 'errands were bullshit' was from his partner, while he had just commented that I was attention seeking trying to get them make a show about having police protection in the area where I was. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was doing this for Lorenzo, and that those idiots didn't know anything about me. It stung a little that they may know more than I wanted them to about my life, and more about my brother than I did.

The soup stock was simmering on the stove, bones cooking down while I took the meat from the whole cooked chicken. It was a short cut that my mom had started doing when we had gotten a little older, her writing joining my grandma's in the recipe. I could feel my eyes watering, that I hadn't seen her since I had left, and had come back to her dead. My heart was tight with the stress of everything that had happened, my hands froze on the counter where I had been wiping up after prepping vegetables for the soup. So much had happened in the last few months, more than I could fully process. Sometimes it just started to take over, the feeling of being swallowed up by everything that I was just ignoring. I wanted fresh air, needed the cool breeze to reduce the suddenly overwhelming heat of the kitchen.

"Ali, Ali!" I heard a child's voice calling out my name, tugging at some memory. I knew that voice. I'd heard them call me before.

I froze on my way over to the window, confusion holding me in place. There wasn't anyone else in the house. The cops made sure of that.

"Ali, Jason, come play with me." The voice called again, sounding like it was coming from upstairs.

Forgetting the desire for fresh air, I headed towards the stairs. Following the sound of children's laughter upwards, it was joined with the quick clicking of film spinning on a projector. I could hear a little cheer sound as I opened the door to the attic, the small unfurnished space filled with a maze of boxes. There was an old fashioned projector, clacking away and throwing light towards a white sheet hanging from the far wall making an impromptu screen. There were three blonde children playing in an arcade in the projection. Two boys and a girl. The memory surged back to me. Mom taking Jason and I out of school for a day to go see a cousin for a small birthday party.

"Freddy, come here, honey." my mom's voice sounded from off camera, clearly she had been the one holding the camera.

One of the boys moved across the frame closer to the camera, the two looked incredibly similar but his face was a little more heart shaped, and he had blue eyes, rather than Jason's familiar green, he also didn't have the cleft in his chin like Jason did.

"Are you having a good birthday, Freddy?" my mom asked the little boy as he walked up to the camera.

He smiled brightly, showing perfect white teeth. There had been almost a moment of hesitation when he first approached but was washed away in only a moment. It hit me that Freddy hadn't been a cousin, that the reason she had told us not to tell our dad that we had skipped school to have a party wasn't because he cared about us skipping a few days. But that he would have cared who we had a party with. That he didn't approve. I sat down on one of the cardboard boxes, watching the home movie play out on film. As the children on the screen played games together in the arcade, singing around cake while Freddy made a wish. Then opening presents, ones that my mom had purchased and wrapped but claimed were from Jason and I.

Freddy was fascinating to watch. He felt so familiar through the home movie. But if someone had asked me yesterday who he was I wouldn't have had any idea what they were talking about. I had forgotten about the day in the arcade ages ago. It hadn't felt important. Now it felt like it was one of the most important days in my life. Freddy was so plainly Charles, that even though he was using a fake name my mom knew it wasn't safe for us to tell my dad about it. I had met my brother years ago, and barely remembered it.

The film finished, the last frames speeding by and then suddenly I was staring at a white sheet again. The end of the video pulled me from my daze. I looked over at the projector, the end of the roll was flapping loose now. It would need to be rewound if I wanted to watch it over again. But there was also a small stack of film reels next to the projector, with a brightly colored child's birthday card on top.

I wAnt to trust you.

My heart squeezed at the words and I automatically looked around. Wanting to protect this moment, not have anyone intrude on it. This was a moment just for me. The message clearly meant for me and no one else. Why else would it be left in the house when I was home alone and no one else was likely to return for hours? Examining the birthday card, it was the same design as had been left for my dad on Charles' birthday, threatening him. And I was sure that it was the same that Jason had received as well. Three cards all reaching out in the same way. All with very different messages. There wasn't anything ominous about my message. Just a plea for connection. I set the card down on the table, looking at the stack of three film reels that had been left there. They weren't labelled, just like the one on the projector wasn't labeled. I turned the projector off, letting silence return to the room. The air still with how very alone I was here.

How hadn't the cops seen Charles come into the house and set this up? I had been up in the attic in th last few weeks, since there had been round the clock police protection. Surely they had to have seen whoever came inside. For a moment, I almost started heading for the door. Pausing before I took more than a step. The cops wouldn't tell me who had been by my house while I was out running errands. Not without wanting to know why. And even then, they probably wouldn't share the information with me anyway. Just with Tanner. So I abandoned that plan.

I could tell the girls, but that idea was also squashed down. Not yet. I would tell them about this later. They were already upset about Charles, and didn't understand why I wanted to get to know the brother that had been hidden from me my entire life. Besides, they had been keeping plenty of secrets of their own over the last few weeks. I'd tell them at our evening check-in, until then I could hoard these memories of my brother. My hands moved over the top of the reels, grabbing the first one. I had learned how to use this projector in my early teens. My mom had put several of our home movies on film, rather than on tape for some reason. She said she liked the way that it sounded, reminding her of her own home movies. Now my hands moved on automatic, setting the next reel up on the projector, then flipping the switch.

It was another home movie, with only two small blonde toddler boys, playing in a park. They looked so close to the same age, it was hard to tell them apart. Except that one of the boys had a bright green cast around his left arm. The one with the cast was more timid than the other, not climbing onto everything the way the other threw himself between monkey bars. There was no sound, just the boys playing around. Something got their attention and they paused before running towards the camera. Up closeI could see that the little boy with the cast was Jason, while the other wild child was Charlie. The camera pulled back to see them petting a clearly pregnant belly. Before pointing up at my mom's face, younger than I had ever seen her, with far fewer worry lines marking her face. My dad was seemingly here for this one.

I moved to the next reel when that ended, finding what appeared to be my first Christmas, where the blonde boys crawled all over the living room and one kept offering a tiny baby in a bassinet various toys. Even without noise it felt warm and safe. Like a family that I had never lived in, and hadn't existed since my brother was sent away to Radley. There was a longing in my chest, for a life that seemed so perfect, that had been kept from me. I wondered what my life would have looked like with Charlie in the family, instead of secreted away in an institution. What Jason and I would be like if we had grown up with an older brother looking out for us. The tiny Charlie on the home videos seemed absolutely devoted to infant Ali, repeatedly coming back to her again and again, while toddler Jason was more preoccupied with his new toys.

It seemed so absurd watching this that Charlie had ever tried to hurt me. Doubt that my father was being totally honest with me about what had happened resurfaced. Spencer's voice telling me my father was a liar returned, blunt as ever. He had seemed to have truly believed that Charles was dead, but that didn't excuse his insistence that there was never a Charles in our family.

The last film reel was another one after Charles had been sent away to Radley, in fact it was filmed in Radley, the only one like it in the set. The blonde boy in it was probably around 8 years old, based off the fact that I think I was two or three in this. He played with a toddler that was clearly me as a small child, matching the home videos that I had seen of my own life. I wondered how my mom had gotten away with taking me to Radley without my dad finding out about it. Again young Charlie seemed intently focused on my toddler counterpart, offering various toys and redirecting anytime I tried to crawl off the little blanket we were sitting on. The floor looked cold and hard in the dimly lit video. It hardly seemed like a place to leave a small child, despite the crayon drawings that were visible on the walls. Suddenly, Charlie started crying, face scrunching up as his mouth opened. Toddler Ali reached out towards him, seemingly wanting to comfort her older brother. The camera dropped to the side, lens pointed at the wall, only catching the quick movement of my mom moving towards the children before focusing on the wall and bed on the far side of the room.

"What are you watching?" a harsh voice cut through the room, making me jump up from the box that I had found myself sitting on. "Where did you get this?"

My dad walked into the room, making directly for the projector, even as the reel ended and the end of the film came loose. He reached past my head, snatching up one of the film reels that I had already watched and put back on the table. I could practically feel the anger boiling off him. I wasn't afraid, but still I stayed still waiting for whatever happened next.

"Alison, where did you get this?" he asked again, volume dropping slightly as he stared straight into my face.

"They were left here." I responded, trying my best to sound confident and strong in my response. But I felt wrong footed, the videos had been emotional and I didn't realize quite how unsettled they had made me feel.

His mouth settled into a hard line, either not believing my answer or not liking what the videos being left for me meant. He collected the film reels off the table quickly, even grabbing the one from the projector. I wasn't sure what he was going to do to the reels. Seeing him after getting the threat from Charles made me wonder if he intended to destroy them, pretend that those videos, the only proof I had seen of Charles as part of our family, had never existed. That Charles was never a part of our family. I watched the struggle and almost spoke out to offer to take the decision out of his hands, but with how tense he was I didn't want to press the issue right now. After a moment of indecision, he announced. "I'm taking these to the police."

**End Chapter**

So this one was a little longer than I had initially intended, mostly cause I didn't feel like stopping it earlier was natural.

Let me know what ya think.