Chapter Text
Ethan Winters stared his beloved wife in the face and felt nothing but disgust and a slowly building anger. Well no, that was a lie. There was a strange sense of fear mixed up in him too. Like a rabbit realizing a wolf stood over its warren. The problem was that he loves ( loved) his wife. Had loved, would always love, mourned and rebuilt, fought through hell to reunite with, only to be force fed a bitter salt of betrayal, but he still loved her . The past few weeks (the past three years) he had clung to the memory of that star bright love but it was faltering. Whatever it was that writhed and pulsed deep within him was growing, and it hated her.
He didn’t (did) know what changed. Couldn’t pinpoint what morning he had woken up and looked at the woman in bed with him and only saw a stranger. From an outsiders objective standpoint he could realize their marriage was on the up. Mia was taking her medication without grumbling, she had resumed going to therapy, she was practically inseparable from Rose, she was even trying to get things restarted in the bedroom. That didn’t change the slick burn of sour bile in his throat any time he kissed her. That didn’t change that Rose went still and silent in her mothers arms, looking at her with more awareness than a baby should hold. That didn’t stop his nightmares starting again, a little girls screams constantly in the back of his mind.
Over the past three years, hell for the past decade, Ethan had gotten very good at lying to himself. (you can’t lie to me Papa.) he could almost convince himself that the smiles he wore and the cheer he faked were starting to become genuine. Of course whatever-it-was building inside him didn’t seem to care to be convinced. He might have let it lie otherwise. Might have continued pretending that everything was fine, that his wife's eyes didn’t make him think of dead fish. But…
A bullet.
A dozen bullets.
Mia.
Chris.
Mia.
Hound Wolf Squad.
Chris.
Mia.
Rose.
Rose.
Rose Rose Rose Rose Rose.
His Daughters.
Daughters?
There was his precious Rosemary, the daughter born of him and Mia. The baby that held his heart more than anything else. But there was also the other. The elder. All he could remember was the swing of long dark hair, black boots a size too large, bubbly laughter echoing back. A throbbing ache lingered around the edges of his mind, clouding the direction of his thoughts. Ethans face scrunched with the pain, finally registering a biting cold pressed against his cheek. He peeled his eyes open, staring dumbly at torn up ground in his sightline.
“Wake up Papa.”
The voice, young and feminine, cracked through the air like a whip. Ethan flinched under it, his hands spasming against the dirt. Even though he doesn’t know it, something in him recognized it, and he instinctively obeyed. He forced himself to rise like a marionette, jerky and unbalanced before he was on his feet and staring bewilderedly at the destruction around him. He could see two trucks laid over on their sides, the one he was in front of exploded outwards. Like something had broken free. From the inside.
“It’s not safe here.”
His head jerked around fast enough to cramp the muscles in his neck. Ethan couldn’t see anyone else besides the dead agent at his feet. But that voice. Young. He knew it. The phone under the arm of the dead agent rang. Ethan picked it up, desperately asking for anything the person on the other line could answer. Of course they didn’t, and the phone died seconds after. Just his fucking luck honestly.
“Stupid Papa. Why aren’t you listening to me?”
That voice again. There still wasn’t anyone around and Ethan couldn’t think of a single reason there would be a little girl anywhere around. They were in the middle of nowhere in frozen woods, who would let a child run around? Maybe she needed help. As if the girl could hear his thoughts a harsh giggle sounded.
“Hello? Little girl?” he called, a scratchy voice echoing strangely, “it’s okay sweetheart, you can come out.”
A little giggle. A flash of motion out of the corner of his eye. The unmistakable form of a child ducking to hide behind a tree. Ethan carefully walked forward, footsteps creaking in the snow. When he rounded the tree however there was no one there, and no tracks to be found. He paused, paternal instincts warring with each other. On one hand there was the manta of Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose, and it was pretty much the only thing keeping him on his feet. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave a child in the snow.
“Do you not remember Papa?”
Ethan whirled around again and there the girl was. He was right, she was young, closer to ten than fifteen he would guess. She was standing in the snow, apparently unbothered by the cold, even in a simple black dress and boots. Part of him wanted to give her his jacket. Most of him is recoiling in a fear that seems to have no reason. The girl cocked her head, a considering look on her face as she drifted closer. She’s still not leaving footprints .
“Papa?”
She called him Papa. And hadn’t Ethan been confused before? Something in him insisting that there was more to life than the single daughter he had helped create? He wasn’t sure how he could forget a whole daughter while remembering the other, but the pounding in his head could be the answer. He knelt down as the little girl approached, shrugging out of his jacket with the intent of sweeping it around her shoulders. It wasn’t until he was halfway through the motion and his hands slipped through her from with less resistance than water that his brain finally caught up to things being wrong.
“I- what- how?”
The girl reached up to press her fingertips against his brow. Ethan swore and had to resist the urge to jerk away. For as insubstantial as she seemed to be she was even colder than the show seeping into the knees of his pants. His breath steamed between them, and he had a startled second to realize that hers didn’t before she drew her hand away. Her fingertips were stained dark red, a single drop breaking free to splash against the dirtied snow. His own hand followed the path of hers, realizing that his forehead is split open from his hairline to his eyebrow.
“It’s okay Papa, let me fix it.” The Girl murmured.
Ethan held himself still as her fingers returned to the cut on his forehead. The chill of her is a welcome respite to the pain if nothing else. There's a strange almost pull deep in his gut, like fishing twine tied around his lower intestines. The tug got more intense, drawing a hiss from between his clenched teeth before it relented again. The girl pulled her hand away, the red replaced with ink black dripping over her knuckles. At last the missing pieces of his mind snap into place, releasing the horror of what stood before him.
“Eveline.”
And Yet.
“Now you remember.” Eveline muttered bitterly, drawing away.
Ethans fingers twitched against his thighs, battling two very conflicting urges. One built of pain and fear, demanding he obliterate a threat. The other built of fatherhood and his own nature, seeing a scared child. She watched him, hazel eyes wary. Hazel eyes. In Ethans memory her eyes were dark and empty, even as he unloaded bullet after bullet into her mutated nightmare of a form. Now they were hazel, an almost perfect copy of his own though maybe a bit more green. Like his own fathers had been. Once Ethan started looking he couldn’t stop. He could see his sister in the shape of her nose, himself in the stubborn jut of her chin, his mother in the waves of her hair. Nothing of Mia.
“You’re dead Eveline. I killed you.”
Eveline giggled again, but there was no humor in the sound, “no stupid. You tried, but so long as the Mold persists I persist.”
The Mold. The Mutamycete. That awful thing that had started all of this, hiding behind the face of a child. Sour bile burned the back of his throat but Ethan tried to keep it off of his face. He didn’t have a single idea of what could be going on, but he knew whatever it was he would deal with it. Louisina had broken him and remade him harder, then Chris had trained him. Chris had been there for him in the past three years, assuring him that there was nothing wrong. Otherwise Ethan might have just dissolved into a gibbering pile but now his friend was being proven wrong. He had to be strong . He had to find Rose. He had to learn what was happening with Mia.
“The Mold is gone. I cured Mia, and BSAA hasn’t said anything about a resurgence.”
Eveline's teeth flashed when she bared them viciously, “do you really think it was that easy to get rid of me? Stupid Papa. Use your head and Think.”
He swallowed nervously, rising to his feet and looking around again. All of this was bringing back the anxiety and terror or Louisianna. The feeling of being helpless, of not understanding what was happening. That had almost been worse than the fear and pain back then.
“If you survived the Mold survived. But how?”
Eveline stayed quiet as he stumbled over to the wrecked truck, looking for anything he could use. A lighter and pack of blood stained cigarettes, he took the lighter. A tactical knife from one of the dead agents, a pair of gloves from another, a travel sized med-kit from the back of the truck. The plan was to clean up the cut on his forehead, but as he crouched to look in the cracked side mirror his whole world stopped. Shaking fingers rose to brush against the cut, already scabbed and surrounded by yellowing bruises. Smeared across his skin was not the expected crimson, but streaks of almost black red, and true deep black.
“Do you get it now?” Eveline asked, appearing in the mirror over his shoulder.
“The Mold… I’m infected?”
The girl nodded, toying with the ends of her hair, “yup. Have been ever since Daddy stomped your face in and dumped you in the body pit. You cured Mommy, but never yourself. Didn’t you think it was weird how BSAA was so interested in your tests at first? And how upset they were when everything came back normal?”
“I don’t understand.” he gasped, pressing against the cut like he could change its half healed state.
“I was weak at first, hiding from everything. They would have had to cut you open and bleed you out for me to show myself. But I got stronger.”
“Mia. What I’ve been feeling recently, that was you?”
Eveline snarled, her image flickering in the mirror. Ethan whirled around to gape at her, and the unmistakable fear on her face. She wrapped her arms around herself like a true child, backing away a step before halting.
“I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t her. I hate her, but that thing wasn’t her.”
“What do you mean.” he didn’t even really ask the words.
Eveline gave him a searching look, “it looked like Mommy. It sounded like her. But it wasn’t.”
“ Rose. Rose knew too, that was why she was being so strange.” and hadn’t he been thinking about how much Mia had changed seemingly out of the blue, “but what I was feeling, that was still you?”
Eveline nodded and drifted back to his side, standing on her toes to try and peer at his forehead. Ethan's heart clenched a little and he willingly went down on one knee for her to have a better view. As much as this whole conversation was essentially turning his world over on its head he had experience with the feeling. For now he was able to put aside the stomach churning horror and replace it with curiosity.
“I guess that would explain some things. Did you notice that she took a bullet to the shoulder like most people take a flu shot?”
Eveline nodded, rocking back and forth on her toes, “that’s not a normal person's reaction.”
Yes he was still wary of Eveline. Yes looking at her brought rancid fear curling up his spine. Yes he was fully aware she had done terrible awful things to him and countless others. Yes… yes she looked and acted like a child, one who was desperate for just a little bit of kindness. No, he had never forgotten the clinical notes wondering if her proclivity for making subjects her parents was because of her secret desire to be loved.
“Mommy isn’t really in my web anymore, she was disconnected when you cured her. Rose is connected to me though, through you. For now she doesn't really do anything, but one day she will be more powerful than both of us.”
“Both of us? You I understand, but me?”
“Stupid Papa,” how the hell did the tiny demon child sound fond, “you are the strongest host for the Mold now. Of course you’re special.”
That was… about what he expected actually. Just because Ethan didn’t want to acknowledge, or heaven forbid accept, it didn’t make it less true. He knew that he could be a little naive, a little too trusting, but he wasn’t actually an idiot. He hadn’t really been hurt since Louisiana, but even his minor bruises and scrapes had healed in days if not hours. He ran his thumb across the scar on his wrist in a nervous tick, reminding himself that his hand was still attached. That alone was confirmation and damnation in the same breath.
“Mia was infected for longer, even with me curing her she still has to take medication. Why isn’t she the host?”
Ethan flinched when Eveline teleported directly in front of him, young face screwed up with brutal anger, “because I hate her! She lied to me! She hurt me!”
And she sounded so upset, so much like a betrayed child that Ethan just reacted. She was still an illusion but he wrapped his arms around her form anyway. It was awkward to hold them in the air with nothing to brace against, but the bone chewing cold of her form let him know where to hover. Eveline seemed to freeze in place, head cocking in the corner of his sight.
“I’m not controlling you, you know. You don’t have to pretend.”
“I know Eveline,” he murmured, keeping the hug for a little longer before letting his arms drop, “that doesn’t mean you didn’t need a hug.”
She looked so confused at his statement. It broke Ethan's heart all over again, those paternal instincts rearing their heads. This was something he had been afraid of ever since Mia had whispered that she was pregnant. He had feared his precious little girl being turned into another experiment, of being confused by genuine affection. He wasn’t sure if Eveline was a ghost, or a projection, or him freezing to death and going insane, but she was just a little girl. He wasn’t going to hurt her more than the world already had.
“If you’re connected to Rose can you tell me where she is?”
Because she wasn't there, and he saw no signs of Chris in the dead agents. For all the man's flaws, and whatever bullshit was going on, Ethan had no doubt that the man adored Rose. Hell, anytime the agent was over they didn’t even have to hold her before Chris staked claim. He was her godfather for a reason.
“She’s that way, but there’s something blocking me. ” Eveline said, pointing into the woods, “I guess you’ll go save your real daughter now.” she muttered quietly enough that he almost didn’t hear it.
And that just wouldn’t stand. Ethan took one last look around the crash site, lamenting the lack of guns before nodding firmly. He reached out to grab the frozen air around Eveline’s hand and started walking with her in tow. Or well, kinda. In reality she just phased through his grip and gave a startled squeak before he turned to her with his brows raised.
“Well? Come on sweetheart, we need to go find your sister.”
Eveline gaped at him in shock, form flickering like a mirage. He sighed and sunk back to his knees, gently acting like he could brush her hair off her forehead. The way she shrank away from him had his heart clenching again but he just gave her a small smile.
“Evie I know I fucked up before, and I know that you have no reason to trust me, but I’m not going to hurt you. I have a lot of questions, and there's a lot we need to figure out but we can do it together later. For now we need to find Rose, okay?”
Eveline nodded, a cautious smile flitting across her face. She was the one to reach out this time, placing her hand in his own. Ethan gave the air a gentle squeeze and rose to his feet, starting his trek through the forest. His first priority was to find Rose, after that he could work on helping Eveline. What was one more child, he always wanted a large family anyway. And this time he wasn’t going to fuck up.