Alice didn't speak as they walked. Victoria tried—once—to say something, but when Alice didn't respond.

She didn't cry in front of Victoria. She couldn't. It would've felt like defeat. Or insult. Or both.

So she went where she always did when she broke—her mother's lab.

She found them there already. Her parents, older than they seemed just yesterday. Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, cross-legged—cross-thighed, rather—, tinkering with some broken tool. Her father was playing video games. They looked up the moment she walked in.

"Alice?" Her mother called.

That did it. The dam cracked. Alice dropped her bag, staggered forward, and pressed her face into her mother's belly. She shook, but no sobs came. Just hot, dry spasms of grief, like crying in reverse.

Her mother held her tight, stroking her hair, whispering, "Don't be hard on yourself. You did the right thing."

"I…" Alice's voice cracked. "I turned her in. I let them take her."

Her father approached, slower. "Its normal to feel that way. She was your friend."

Alice nodded, still buried in her mother's arms.

He knelt beside them and touched her back. "That means it was hard. And you still did it. I'm proud of you."

She looked up. "Proud?"

"You are truly my daughter." he said. "Strong. Capable."

"Oh please," her mother cut in. "She got that from me."

"Ha," he said, rising. "You want to talk genetics? I'll show you how powerful my genes are."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a look. "We've talked about this. No flirting while our daughter's breaking down emotionally after a character defining moment."

"I'm not flirting," he said. "I'm making a compelling scientific argument."

Alice let out a weak laugh, hiccuping around it. Her mother caught it and smiled.

"There she is." she said gently. Then her tone softened, almost weightless: "What you did today, Alice… people will remember it. Whether they say it or not. This will be your legacy. Something even me and your father couldn't achieve. Not now, not anymore. We're too old."

Alice stared at her, unsure if she wanted to cry harder or cling to every word.

Her mother touched her cheek. "But you… if I died tomorrow," She said foreshadowingly. "I'd go proud. Because you made hero of yourself. And you'll make more."

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