Actions

Work Header

Resident Evil: Autonomy

Summary:

Ethan Winters decides to attend a group counseling session for grieving people a year after his wife Mia embarks on a work trip that she never returned from. This choice sets in motion a series of events that brings him in contact with Sophie Garner, a young woman in group grief counseling to deal with the loss of her younger sister.
Nothing brings people together like grief, something Ethan and Sophie will come to discover.

Notes:

I just want to give Ethan Winters a chance to be happy. Is that okay?

Chapter 1: "Nice car, by the way."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The blond man sat alone. 

Sophie considered him from her own chair, which was positioned in the small circle formed by the group. His head was ducked down, his arms crossed over his chest. He appeared disconnected from what was happening just inches away from where he’d pulled his chair out of the circle a bit, and Sophie had to assume that was his intention. She wondered what he could be doing at the meeting, if he didn’t plan to participate. His presence had to have been required by a therapist. She wondered how long it had been, for him. 

Rachel had finished talking about her father, and the leader of the group, Ross, who didn’t like to be called ‘leader,’ preferring the term ‘facilitator,’ turned to her. 

“Sophie.” She sat up a bit straighter, trying her best to pull her attention away from the blond man. Ross offered her a kind smile. “How is your family doing? It’s almost been six months now, hasn’t it?” 

“Yes.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I, uh… yeah. Almost. We’re… we’re doing a bit better, I suppose. My mom still hasn’t… hasn’t convinced herself to go into Kate’s room to clean it out. I honestly don’t want to do it, either, but I know we need to, at some point. She hadn’t even lived there since she was eighteen, but the idea of it is...” Sophie lifted her shoulders a little. “It’s hard.” 

“It is,” Ross agreed, looking around to address the whole circle. “You never want to feel as though, by taking steps to help with the grieving process, which can include packing the belongings of a loved one away, that you’re moving too quickly, or that you’re packing them away.” He gestured with one hand. “Which is why groups like ours are good, because we can talk to one another about it, about how we feel about those different steps, and give one another advice on how to… process them a bit easier, because we’re all at different places in our own grief.” 

Sophie glanced at the blond man, to see if he’d reacted to this. She felt no surprise when she saw his head was still bowed, his arms still crossed. 

“When we had to clean out Kevin’s room,” the older woman named Janice began, “we… we brought over several friends and family members to help us.” She offered Sophie a small smile. “It made it a bit easier, knowing we didn’t have to do it all on our own.” 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Ross said, looking at Sophie as well. “What do you think?” 

She managed a smile of her own, and a nod. “I’ll mention it to my mom.” 

Ross moved on, and her gaze drifted back over to the blond man. She wondered if he knew she was looking at him. She had to assume not, considering he hadn’t so much as shifted in his chair since she’d first noticed he sat apart from the rest of the group. Was he even listening to what everyone had to say? Who had he lost? 

“Ethan?” 

The man’s head lifted, and Sophie saw his eyes were light brown. She’d expected them to be blue. Ross and the others had all turned their attention to him. Ross seemed especially sympathetic. “I understand that you’re new, so if you don’t have anything you’d like to share, you don’t have to. Maybe you can just start by introducing yourself?” 

The blond man - Ethan, Sophie cemented in her mind - sat up a little straighter. He didn’t uncross his arms; he was dressed rather nicely, she thought, in a button-up and slacks. He looked like he did office work, somewhere. Maybe a businessman of some kind. 

“I’m Ethan,” he said, his voice low, disused. “Ah… I’m not… I’m not exactly here because I want to be. I had people tell me it might be a good idea.” He cleared his throat, and continued on; doing so had strengthened his voice a little: “I - my wife, Mia… I lost her, and it’s… it’s taken me longer than it should have to accept that she was gone, so I’m - maybe this’ll help, a little.” 

Sophie’s eyebrows had drawn together throughout this, and she found herself unable to look away from Ethan, even as Ross sensed that it was best to keep the group moving, to talk about something else, perhaps so no one would be prompted to ask Ethan questions. He’d had reason to believe his wife might have still been alive, for some time. What could have happened to her, and why had it taken Ethan so long to accept that whatever it had been had resulted in her death? Sophie knew that these questions weren’t ones that he’d want to answer, and she knew she’d need to be careful about not asking them. 

After all, she’d dealt with plenty of those questions herself, after her sister’s suicide: Did you know she was going to do it? Why do you think she did it? Do you think you could have stopped her? 

She swallowed, and forced herself to look away from Ethan again. He didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to have to interact with any of them more than necessary. She could respect that, and respect his privacy as well. There were simply some things that you didn’t share with others, and especially not the strangers in a group grief counseling session. 

The meeting didn’t last for much longer after that. As he usually did, Ross invited everyone back for the meeting next week, same place, same time, and then they were free to move out of the circle they’d formed. Janice and Rachel went over to clean up the table that held the coffee maker and the snacks a few of them had brought. Sophie set about folding up the chairs to carry them over to the rack on the wall, the way she had been doing after each meeting she’d attended for the last four months. 

She glanced over her shoulder as she put away the first two chairs she’d grabbed, watching as Ross approached Ethan, just before he could leave the community gym the meetings were held in. It didn’t take long for Ethan’s shoulders to visibly tense as Ross spoke to him, and after listening for a moment, he responded with something short. Ross’s head tilted, and he said one final thing to him, before walking away, leaving Ethan where he was in front of the gym’s double doors. Ethan lingered there for a moment, looking bemused, before he shook his head and pushed his way out of the building. 

Sophie watched the door swing shut behind him, and then jumped when someone gently touched her shoulder. She turned to face them, and let out a patchy breath of air when she recognized Louis, the older gentleman who was in therapy dealing with the grief of his lost wife. His pale green eyes sparkled in amusement as she glowered at him. 

“Don’t do that,” she scolded, pushing another chair into the rack. “Honestly, Lou.”

“I just get a kick out of it,” he said. “I saw you watching Ethan during the meeting.”

“So? I wanted to know who he was, same as everyone else.” Sophie put away the last of the chairs, which he’d brought over for her, and then she looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “Weren’t you curious?” 

“Young man like him in grief counseling? Course I was,” Louis responded. He frowned a little. “I just wish it hadn’t been his wife he’d lost.”

“Yeah, it’s sad, isn’t it?” Sophie sighed, glancing down at the floor of the gym. The line marking the edge of the basketball court looked like a ghost of what it might have once been. “It - didn’t it sound like… like he had reason to believe she wasn’t dead? What do you think that means?” 

Louis lifted his shoulders. “She probably went missing, first. Maybe ran out on him in the middle of the night, or went on a trip for work, and just… never came home, like he said.” He shook his head. “Only so many explanations for why that is.” 

Sophie wasn’t content. “Maybe,” she mumbled. 

“How’s your mom doing, really?” Louis asked her, and she looked up at him. 

“Not great,” she admitted. “She - she’ll have days where she’s all right, but then something will happen that reminds her of Kate, and she… she just breaks down all over again.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “She should be the one coming to these meetings, but she won’t let me bring her.” 

Louis hummed. “My daughter had to drag me kicking and screaming to my first meeting,” he said, “so I can relate to her position, but I could also tell her that it does help.” 

Sophie offered him a smile. “I doubt she’d believe you,” she said. She then exhaled, glancing at her watch. “I should get going.” 

Louis nodded. “Me too. Getting harder for me to see as it gets darker, nowadays.” 

“Maybe that means you shouldn’t be driving anymore, old man,” Sophie teased, tugging her car keys out of her pocket. 

“Ah, baloney,” Louis said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be driving until I shrink enough to where I can’t reach the pedals anymore.” 

“Thanks for letting me know to drive as little as humanly possible from now on,” Sophie said. 

“I’ve been driving since the summer of 1960,” Louis stated, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt with an air of importance. “I know more about the craft than you ever will, sweetheart.” 

Sophie chortled. “All right, whatever you say,” she said. “I’ll see you next week, Louis.” 

“Bye, Sophie,” Louis responded, chuckling as well. Sophie made her way across the gym, and pushed open the doors onto the humid mid-August night. She headed across the parking lot to where she’d parked her Civic, fumbling with her car keys. She pulled open the door, and, before climbing in behind the wheel, noticed a figure sitting in a different car parked two spots down. It only took her a moment to realize that the person inside was Ethan. 

She hesitated for a moment beside her own car, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. It would be stupid of her to go up to the nice-looking, if older, Challenger and tap on the window. She knew this. All the same, something in her gut was tugging insistently at her, encouraging her to go over there. She had no notion of what she would say, even if he did roll down the window to address her, which she highly doubted. He’d think she was crazy, and never come back to another meeting. 

Then again, if she didn’t go over to his car, and attempt to speak to him, she might never see him again anyway, considering the way he’d stormed out of the gym after Ross had spoken to him at the end of the meeting. 

Sophie cursed under her breath, and closed the door of her Civic again. She locked it, not that it was necessary to do so, considering she’d be walking back to it within a few minutes, and made her way over to the Challenger. She slowed as she neared it, and then paused a few steps away from the driver’s side door. She could see that Ethan’s head was bowed again; he was probably messing with his phone in his lap, or something. Gingerly, she reached out and rapped on the window with her knuckle. 

Ethan’s head raised, and turned in the direction of the window. He frowned, seeing her, and she lifted her hand in a wave, feeling ridiculous. What the hell did she think she was doing? 

After a moment, she watched as the window rolled down, and she was free to speak to him without the barrier of glass. For a short moment, she wondered if it’d be too much to ask for him to roll it up again. 

“Uhm… hey,” she began, and forced herself not to wince. She was the worst. “I’m - I’m Sophie Garner. You’re Ethan?” 

“Yeah.” He frowned. “Ethan Winters.” 

Despite herself, Sophie felt the corner of her mouth quirk up in a smile. “Winters? No joke?” 

“Why would I joke about it? It’s my name.” 

“I just - Winters. It’s - it’s different.” She hated herself. “Sorry, I’m - this is going to sound stupid, but I just… I noticed the way you didn’t… y’know, really interact with the group tonight, and I get that it’s probably because this whole… grief thing is pretty new for you, but I just wanted to let you know that it gets easier, the more sessions you come to.”

Ethan’s expression didn’t change, and Sophie only waited for him to say something for about three seconds before continuing herself: “So… if you were thinking about one-and-done-ing this, I’m gonna recommend… not? Doing that?” She sighed, and ran her hand through her hair. “Sorry. I’m just, like, speaking from experience, here, which you probably don’t give a shit about, but… it does help. Being able to talk to people you won’t see anywhere else is a really good way to… to parse through things you might not otherwise be able to.” 

“You sound like you’re reading a cue card for a really shitty commercial talking about the benefits of group grief counseling,” Ethan said, after a moment, and Sophie huffed out a laugh. 

“That’s kind of exactly what I’m doing,” she admitted, rubbing at her arm with her opposite hand. “Just - come to the next one, okay?”

“Why?” Ethan asked. “So people can ask me questions I don’t have any answers to?” 

“No,” Sophie said, after considering him and this suggestion. “No, so that… so that you can answer questions for yourself, that you don’t even know you have, yet.” She glanced up and down the length of his car. “Nice car, by the way. I hope I see it here again next week.” She backed up a few steps, and nodded to him. “Have a good night, Mr. Winters.”  

She turned and headed back to her Civic, feeling somewhere between giddy and appalled. She couldn’t believe she’d actually done that. She’d never tried to convince a newbie to come to the next meeting before. It really wasn’t her job to do that, it was Ross’s, as the group “facilitator.” Still, as she’d told Ethan, the meetings did help, over time. It had been hard for her to settle into the group, during the first few meetings, but once she had, once she realized that everyone in the gym was experiencing the same things she was, just for various reasons, because of various people in their lives, it had become easier. Easier to talk to the group, easier to offer advice to others in the group, easier to grieve. 

She slid behind the wheel of her Civic, and glanced out the passenger-side window towards where Ethan’s car had been, and still was. As she started her own car, she found herself thinking about how she’d meant what she’d said; she did hope to see it again, and parked in that same spot. 

***

It wasn’t there. 

Sophie frowned, pulling into the spot she usually occupied outside the gym. She parked the Civic, and turned it off, tugging the key free. She studied the vacant spot where Ethan’s Challenger had been parked, the week prior, willing the car to appear there. It didn’t, and she sighed, pushing her way out of the Civic. She locked the doors, and headed towards the gym, noting the presence of Louis’s Ford closer to the doors. 

She pulled open the door, and stepped into the gym. Louis was helping Ross set up chairs, the way he always did. Janice was setting up the refreshment table, the way she always did. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening, within the gym, but Sophie found herself disconcerted by this, rather than comforted. 

She approached the circle of chairs, putting her keys into her pocket. Ross nodded to her, and she nodded back, before greeting Louis. 

“Evening,” he returned, setting up the last of the chairs and sinking heavily into it. Sophie raised an eyebrow, and he huffed. “Don’t mind me. Long day, is all.”

Sophie didn’t believe him, but it had been a long day for her as well, so she elected not to pick a fight. She instead sat down in the chair next to his, her eyes straying towards the doors of the gym as she heard them open. Her shoulders fell when she saw it was Rachel coming through them, and she looked down at the floor, feeling stupid. 

Louis, unfortunately, had noticed. He nudged her arm with the back of his hand. “Waiting for Ethan, by any chance?” he queried. 

“Why would I be?” Sophie asked at once, and then winced, realizing how defensive she’d sounded. She did not look at Louis. “I’m not.” 

“Mm.” She disliked his knowing tone. “If you say so.” 

“Oh, what do you know?” Sophie grumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. 

“Nothing, Ms. Approaches-A-Stranger’s-Car-After-A-Group-Grief-Counseling-Session,” Louis responded with disinterest, and her head snapped in his direction just in time to see him smirk. “Nothing at all.” 

Sophie disliked the way she could feel her cheeks warming up with embarrassment. Of course it hadn’t been strictly nondescript of her, to approach Ethan’s car in the parking lot after the last meeting. It was a parking lot, after all. Still, she supposed part of her had hoped no one had noticed, so that she wouldn’t need to explain herself, the way she was going to have to do for Louis, who was now studying her with an expectant look on his wrinkled face. 

“Listen, I just told the guy to give it a chance, okay?” she said, managing not to clench her teeth the way she wanted to. “I told him that my experience with the meetings has been a good one, and that it really does help. I was hoping he’d at least come back for a second one, after hearing a review from a certified user.”

Louis cracked a grin. “A certified user, huh?” 

“You know what I mean,” Sophie said with a smile of her own, unable to help herself. 

Louis chuckled, and then nodded towards the door. “Looks like your testimony held more weight than you originally expected,” he said.

Sophie’s head swiveled around so that she could see the doors as well, and she sat up straighter in her chair when she spotted Ethan entering the gym as inconspicuously as he could. She waited to see if he’d notice her, or if he would even try to, and felt an odd rush of warmth go up her spine when his eyes moved around the gym, before settling on her, even if just for a brief moment. He lowered his head, and shuffled towards the circle of chairs. Sophie watched him grab the back of one two down from where she and Louis sat, and he tugged it a few feet away, so that when he sat in it, he was apart from the circle at large once again. 

A little disappointed that he hadn’t elected to sit beside her, but pleased that he’d come back at all, Sophie turned away from him. She found Louis watching her, eyebrows raised, and she made a face. 

“Don’t start,” she warned. 

Louis merely chuckled again.

Notes:

I read online that Ethan's car is Chrysler? Whether this is true or not I cannot speak to; I know nothing about cars.
Edit: My brother said it's more likely a Dodge Challenger, and I trust his opinion more than I trust those I find on the internet, so I've changed it.

Chapter 2: "That's the simple truth of it."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Ethan attended two more meetings before he approached Sophie, at the end of one. Sophie was busy putting away the chairs, the way she typically did, and so she didn’t notice him as he walked up to her, but when she turned around to retrieve one of the chairs, she was taken aback to find him standing there, hands in the pockets of the jeans he was wearing, a different look from his normal, professional slacks. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hi,” Sophie replied, and completed her original movement, grabbing the chair and folding it up. “How’re you doing?” 

Ethan lifted his shoulders. She shouldn’t have been surprised; he had yet to really talk much, during the meetings, but she’d noticed he didn’t keep his head bowed the same way he had the first meeting he’d attended. He hadn’t taken a seat within the circle, still elected to sit in a chair he pulled backwards from it a few feet. Sophie wondered if this was symbolic of his feelings of being singular, within the larger group of grieving people. Perhaps because he wasn’t certain of his wife’s death? It was possible, she supposed, although he’d admitted to attending the meetings because he was wanting to come to terms with it. 

She finished putting the chair onto the rack, and then turned to look at him again, wondering why he’d come up to her. She waited for him to speak, and when he didn’t, she said, without thinking, “Are you - are you hungry?” 

Ethan lifted his eyes from where they’d been trained on the floor, and met hers. “Hungry?” he repeated, and Sophie nodded, despite not knowing what it was that had possessed her to ask such a thing. 

“Yeah, you know. It’s… it’s the way people get, when it’s time to eat food?” She gestured with one hand in the direction of the doors of the gym. “There’s a diner within walking distance, open twenty-four hours. Kickass hamburgers.” 

Ethan frowned at her. “Are you asking if I want to go get dinner?”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Sophie said, after a moment, surprising herself, and him, she could see. “Just… y’know. As… as fellow… group grief counseling attendees.” 

“Oh.” Ethan flexed his left hand, opening and closing it into a fist a couple times. Sophie noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Odd. He shook his head, drawing her attention back to his face. “Maybe not tonight. I - I had a long day.”

Sophie tried not to let her immediate disappointment show. “Oh. Well, that’s all right, then. Some other time.” She fiddled with the ring around her middle finger for a moment, wondering if that was the end of the conversation. Obviously, though, it couldn’t have been, since Ethan was the one to have come up to her. 

Indeed, after a few seconds, Ethan said, “I - you were right.”

“I was right,” she repeated, coherently, and the look Ethan gave her was one of consternation. 

“About… about the group.” 

“Oh!” Sophie bit her tongue, and nodded. “Yeah. That’s why I told you, because I knew you’d start to feel that way, with time. That’s all it takes.” She reached up and brushed her hair back behind her ear, shrugging one shoulder. “I mean. It’s different, with every person, since we all lose someone different, but.. I think being in the group can help anybody.” 

“Yeah.” Ethan exhaled. “Anyway, I just - I guess I wanted to say thanks. For telling me to come back, because I probably wouldn’t have.” 

“Sure,” Sophie replied, wondering why he’d picked today to say thank you. “Are - does this mean you’re not going to come back again, after this one?” 

“No, I’ll - I’ll be back,” Ethan said. “I just - I wanted you to know that I was grateful for the initial encouragement.”

There was another moment of silence, and then Ethan held out his hand. Sophie considered it for a moment, before shaking it with her own. It seemed to her that their hands lingered together for a moment longer than hands typically would after a shake before Ethan let go of hers, his own falling to his side again. 

“Well. Good night.”

“Good night, Winters,” Sophie returned, with a small smile. 

He nodded, and then turned, walking away from her, towards the doors of the gym. She watched him go, head tilted to one side, before she realized she was staring. She glanced down at the hand she’d shaken his with, and closed it into a fist, feeling silly. Why had she asked him to get supper like that? That had been stupid of her. She regretted it immensely. She’d probably made him super uncomfortable. 

She immediately back-tracked away from those thoughts. The anxiety that twisted her stomach, threatening to make her ill was extremely uncalled for, she told herself. All she’d done was ask him to supper. It wasn’t as big a deal as she was making it out to be. It had only been an attempt to be friendly, after all, and she hadn’t been weird about it, when he’d said no. She needed to relax. 

Shaking her head to herself, she finished putting the chairs away, glanced around the gym, noticed Ross speaking with the person who’d most recently joined the group. She lifted a hand to them in farewell, and made her way towards the doors, pushing her way through them and out into the parking lot. Her eyes automatically glanced towards where Ethan had been parking, the last few meetings, and saw that his car was already gone. 

Annoyed with herself for noticing, or even caring, she turned her focus towards her Civic, tugging out her keys. She needed to leave it alone. Ethan Winters was really none of her business.

***

Two more meetings passed. Sophie pretended not to notice that Ethan still wouldn’t speak much, even when asked questions, and he had yet to offer advice to any of the other group members. No one mentioned this, that Sophie had heard, but she wondered if he was ever going to actually participate, rather than simply listen to everyone else handle their grief, as though trying to teach himself how to do the same thing through observation rather than practice.

After the final meeting of August came to a close, Sophie went about packing up the chairs. Her fifth month of going to the meetings had passed with the one that had just ended, and she knew that, after the next few weeks, she’d be at the six month mark. This, she’d learned, was typically the point in time in which people stopped attending the meetings altogether. She wondered who would start putting the chairs away, once she stopped going to the gym every Thursday night at 7:00. 

She turned to grab another chair, and was surprised when she found Ethan standing there, holding one, already folded, out to her. She blinked at him, but took the chair. 

“Thank you,” she said. He nodded, and turned to fold another chair as she stuck the one he’d handed to her onto the rack. Quietly, they got the rest of the chairs put away, and then Sophie turned back to him fully, cocking her head to one side. 

“How’re you doing?” she asked him. 

“Okay,” he replied. “You?” 

“I’m all right,” she said. Then, because apparently she never learned, added, “A little hungry, though.” 

She pretended not to watch Ethan consider this addition, a crease between his brows. She instead focused on the swaying net of one of the basketball hoops, wondering what breeze was making it stir, and definitely not allowing the growing anxiety in the pit of her stomach that was certain he’d say something negative get to her. 

“Me too.” 

She glanced at him, and saw he was looking at her. She lifted her eyebrows. 

“Yeah?” He nodded, and Sophie leaned up on her toes, pleased, anxiousness falling away as though it had been flushed out of her by those two words and his nod. “All right. Cool. Let’s go get food.” 

She led the way out of the gym, and they walked the two blocks to the diner she’d discovered a month after she’d started attending the meetings. She’d gone there a few times, mostly by herself, sometimes with Louis, once he’d started attending meetings as well. She hoped he wouldn’t mind she was bringing Ethan there, instead of him. The old man hadn’t been at that night’s meeting; as far as Sophie knew, he would be at the next one. Louis’s six months had yet to pass. 

Ethan held open the door of the diner for her, once they’d reached it, and she smiled to herself as she walked through. He followed her to a booth against the wall of windows at the front of the small building, and they sat down on opposite sides of it, settling onto the unfortunately uncomfortable dark blue vinyl. Sophie retrieved two menus from the metal rack they were in, at one end of the table, and slid one over to him. 

“Everything here is pretty good,” she said, “and it’s actually all pretty cheap.” She tapped his menu. “Cheeseburger with all the fixings, though. That’s the way to go.” 

“Guess I’ll take your word for it,” Ethan said, after considering the menu for a moment. He glanced up at her again, and she was pleased when the corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “I am hungry, so I hope you’re not wrong.” 

“I’d never lie about food,” Sophie assured him, and her tone must have been convincing, because when the waitress came over to their booth to take their order, Ethan requested the same thing that Sophie did, as well as a cup of water. Sophie, who was used to eating her burgers with a big glass of root beer, was startled into ordering water as well, as an afterthought. When the waitress had walked away again, she considered Ethan. 

“Water, huh?”

He shrugged, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt. He must have had the day off, or something, because he was dressed down from the way she’d seen him at the other meetings. 

“I try to avoid sugary stuff during the week. Kind of makes it harder to sleep.” His expression darkened, marginally, and he looked away, the gray ring around his brown eyes having grown in diameter, a visual hint at his mood. “Don’t need to tell you it’s been hard enough, lately.”

Sophie turned her own eyes away, worried that if she continued looking at him, he’d start to feel scrutinized. He hadn’t said how long his wife had been gone for, and she didn’t think it was a good idea to ask him for that kind of information. She imagined that, if they continued speaking to one another on a normal basis, the topic would emerge in its own time. 

So, instead of bringing up his wife Mia directly, she said, “I’m glad you decided to keep coming to the meetings.” 

Across from her, Ethan let out a noncommittal hum. “Hard not to, after they received such a glowing review.”

Sophie smiled, and glanced back at him. He was doing his best to hide a smile of his own. She picked up the menus, and tucked them back into the rack again, so that she would have something to do with her hands.

After the waitress had brought their drinks, Sophie pointed to him with the end of her straw, before sticking it into her cup of root beer.  

“I noticed that usually, you’re dressed up like a door-to-door salesman,” she commented. “What do you sell?” 

Ethan let out a laugh. She could tell he hadn’t let himself laugh at much, recently. 

“I’m a systems engineer,” he said. 

Sophie’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, damn,” she said. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

She fell back against her side of the booth. “Well, now I feel like an idiot for making that stupid joke,” she said, and Ethan smiled again. “An engineer? That’s - wow.”

“It’s not that impressive, really,” Ethan said. “I just… make sure everything keeps working.” 

“Sounds kind of important to me,” Sophie retorted, and he shrugged. “An engineer.”

“Stop saying it like that,” Ethan said, although she could tell he was amused. “What do you do?”

Sophie glanced down. “I’m kind of embarrassed to say.” 

“What, because I’m an engineer?” he queried, mimicking the infliction she’d put on the word twice, now, and she nodded. Ethan chuckled. “Come on, just tell me.” 

Sophie sighed. “I’m - I’m a librarian,” she said. “At a high school.” 

“Oh.” Ethan considered her. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”

Sophie frowned at him. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Just - you look like a librarian.” 

“Oh, okay,” Sophie said, appalled. “That’s - that’s very reassuring. Thank you, Winters. Jesus.” 

“Not in a bad way,” Ethan quickly put in. 

“It’s the glasses, isn’t it?” Sophie asked him, reaching up to pull them off. “I ran out of contacts! I have no choice but to wear them.”

“How do you run out of contacts?” Ethan asked. “Can’t you just… order more?” Sophie didn’t answer, and Ethan’s shoulders fell. “Oh. Sorry.” 

“No, it’s - I am a school librarian,” she sighed, putting her glasses back on and wishing she didn’t feel as peasant-like as she suddenly did, sitting across the table at a twenty-four hour diner from a systems engineer who probably earned more in a month than she did over six month’s worth of paychecks. 

“Did you want to be a librarian?” Ethan questioned, after a moment of silence had passed that wasn’t as uncomfortable as it should have been. 

“Yes.” Sophie rested her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand, thinking back to the day she’d learned she’d gotten a scholarship to A&M Corpus Christi, and how, when she’d told her mother she was going to study library science, Anna Garner had sighed and told her that she better write a novel or something, because she could only borrow so much. “My mother was not happy. My sister though, she was. She liked to read just as much as I did.” She smiled a little. “My mother wasn’t any happier with her English teacher salary than she is with mine.”

She realized she’d ended up rambling a little, and blinked, focusing on Ethan again. He was watching her, a crease between his brows, and she laughed at herself, leaning back against her side of the booth again. 

“Sorry,” she said.

“I’m the one who asked,” Ethan replied, and she gave him a grateful look. He glanced down at the tabletop, fiddling with his own straw, which he hadn’t bothered putting into his cup of water. “How old was she? Your sister?” 

“Twenty-four,” Sophie said, after a moment. She looked down at her right hand, and fiddled with the ring around her middle finger, which had been the twin of her younger sister’s. “Her name was Kate. Just Kate. That was how she introduced herself to people, because usually, she’d get asked if it was short for something, and she got tired of telling them no.” 

She could tell Ethan wanted to ask, but had the good graces not to, so she answered the question for him: “I don’t know why she did it. There was no note or anything. We just… we got a phone call from her roommate, and that was it.” Her throat burned with tears that she’d learned to hold back rather well, over the past several months. “Uhm. I’ve guessed at it, obviously, but I don’t - I’ve never been able to come up with an answer. No one has. She just… decided to take some pills and go to sleep in the bathtub one day, as far as we know.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said, softly, when she’d stopped speaking, and Sophie lifted her shoulders in a shrug, wiping at her nose with the sleeve of the cardigan she was wearing. She forced a laugh, recognizing another piece of evidence for Ethan’s conclusion that she looked like a librarian. The one time she hadn’t gotten changed after work before heading to the gym for the meeting. 

She briefly hid her face in her hands, collecting herself, and then she blew out a harsh breath and set them down on the table. 

“Yikes,” she said. “That - usually I’m better at controlling myself when I talk about it. Sorry about that.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Ethan’s voice held more than a hint of regret. “I’m sorry for asking.”

“Please, don’t be,” Sophie said, holding up a hand and shaking her head. “It’s fine, really. That’s the whole point of the group grief counseling; you learn to talk about it with people, so that it all doesn’t… build up inside you, make you want to explode.” 

Ethan was quiet, but, thankfully, the waitress arrived again, with their food. Sophie reached for the bottle of ketchup that she’d brought to the table, and poured some over the side of french fries that came with the burgers. She pretended not to notice how Ethan was not reacting to the arrival of the food in any capacity, allowing him time to think, or whatever it was he was doing across the table from her. 

Finally, he glanced up, and at her. “It’s been over a year,” he said. “August. August 4th. That was one year since I saw Mia in person.”

Sophie’s eyes drifted to his ring-less left hand, and Ethan pulled it towards his chest, rubbing at the blank space on his ring finger with the thumb on his right hand. 

“We weren’t… doing too great, before then,” he murmured, almost like a confession.

“Oh.” Sophie looked down at her food again, wondering whether her appetite would return quickly after this part of their conversation ended. 

Ethan sighed. “She said that she was some sort of ambassador for a trading company, and that she babysat for the owners, sometimes,” he said. “I didn’t believe her, and we’d gotten into arguments about it, when I accused her of lying, which probably wasn’t the smartest choice.” He shook his head. “But then she left on that trip, and she didn’t come back, and she didn’t come back, and after three months, people around me started making suggestions, you know, timid ones, hinting at the idea that maybe she was gone, but in a way I didn’t want her to be, God, no one wants that, for anybody, ever, but it - I couldn’t… I couldn’t accept that. That she was just dead, and that was the end of it. But then it was six months, and then seven, and my friends, my parents… I just couldn’t block it out anymore, what they were saying, and I couldn’t… ignore the fact that investigations into her disappearance were coming up empty.”

“So you came to group grief counseling,” Sophie concluded for him, after a momentary pause, and Ethan nodded. 

“So I came to group grief counseling,” he agreed. “And it’s - it’s sort of helped? Being around… around other people who’ve lost someone, but it - at the same time I don’t feel like I belong there. Like I’m the wrong person to be grieving for her.” 

“Because of the struggling marriage thing,” Sophie said. Ethan nodded again, his brows drawn together, and she sighed. She needed to say this next thing to him, anxiety that it wouldn’t go over well be damned. “Ethan, did you love Mia?”

Ethan immediately frowned at her, anger creeping into his expression. “The hell kind of question is that?” he demanded. She thought his annoyance came more from defensiveness than anything else. “Of course I did. I still do.”

“Then you belong with the group,” Sophie said, not ignoring his anger, but choosing not to let it stop her from saying what she needed to. It was important that he heard it. She couldn’t let her worry that he’d never elect to speak to her again after she said it stop her. “Everyone in that gym lost someone they loved. If you loved Mia, and you lost her, you’re no different from the rest of us, and you don’t need to feel like you can’t be there just because your relationship with her when she disappeared was strained. Rachel, the one who lost her dad? She hadn’t spoken to him in three years.” 

Ethan blinked, the fire that had sparked in his brown eyes fading again. “Really?”

Sophie nodded. “It was the first thing she told the group, when she came to her first meeting three months ago. ‘My dad died from a brain tumor. We hadn’t spoken in three years, because he didn’t agree with life choices I’d made for myself. But I loved him, and so I’m here.’” She met Ethan’s eyes. “Everyone’s grief is different, Ethan, but no one’s grief is lessened by the circumstances of their relationship with the person they lost. If you love someone, and you lose them, it hurts. That’s the simple truth of it.”

Ethan said nothing, for several minutes. Sophie pushed down her anxiety, and considered her cheeseburger, then decided, fuck it, the meal was eight dollars, she was going to eat it no matter what. She picked it up, and bit into it, pleased that it still managed to taste wonderful, despite the fact that she was no longer hungry. 

“I guess you’re right,” he said, and she looked back at him again, in the middle of taking another bite. Ethan had picked up a french fry, and was considering it as though it held the secrets to the universe. “I - yeah. Grief is never lessened.” He sighed. “I guess not realizing that has been my biggest problem.” 

Sophie hummed. “Sometimes you just need someone to actually say it out loud to you,” she said, and finished taking her bite, hoping that her relief due to the fact he hadn’t gotten up and stalked out of the diner wasn’t too apparent. She allowed herself to relax a bit when she saw him pick up his own cheeseburger. She watched his expression, awaiting his reaction to the food, and grinned when he blinked a few times, looking down at the burger in astonishment. He looked up at her. 

“Diner food?” he asked, and Sophie nodded. “Holy shit.” 

“I know, right?” 

The meal carried on. The subject of grief did not arise again, and neither did mention of Sophie’s sister or Ethan’s wife. Instead, conversation turned towards a number of other things, including movies, books, and oddly, hockey. Ethan couldn’t seem to process the fact that Sophie adored hockey. 

“But you’re from Texas, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“You’re… a librarian from Texas who likes hockey? How is that possible?”

Sophie stared at him. “Is it really that hard to believe? I even prefer another team over the Stars.” When Ethan lifted his eyebrows, she shrugged. “I like the Sharks.” 

“You like the Sharks?” Ethan laughed. “The San Jose Sharks?”  

Sophie scowled. “What’s so funny? I bet they go to the Stanley Cup finals this year.” 

Ethan shook his head, taking a sip of his water. “They gave up McLellan. No chance.” 

“Well, they didn’t make it to the playoffs last year with him,” Sophie pointed out. “It was time for a change. It’s been seven seasons.” 

“He was the best coach they’ve had,” Ethan said. “They gave him up for Peter DeBoer, who, notably, led the Devils to a loss against my team, three years ago.” 

Sophie snorted, biting into another french fry. “Of course you like the Kings,” she said. “I could tell right away you were from L.A.” 

“I’m not going to ask how,” Ethan said, smiling at her. He then leaned back against his side of the booth. “I will give you the fact that the Sharks have Joe Thornton.”

“Exactly,” Sophie agreed. 

“But, the Pens have Sidney Crosby.” 

“Pah. Sidney Crosby is a decade into his career.” 

“He still kicks ass,” Ethan pointed out. “Man was born to play hockey.”

“You’re right,” Sophie said, “but that doesn’t mean everything.” 

“It helps a lot, though.” Ethan considered her for a moment. “You like hockey.”

“We’ve been over this.” 

“I just - it’s weird to me. You’re a librarian from Texas who likes hockey.” 

Sophie offered him a dry look. “I’m also a liberal. Would you like to add that to your list?” 

Ethan grinned. “No,” he said. “I think I already knew that one.” 

Sophie rolled her eyes, and tugged out her cell phone, wanting to see when the first game of the season was. “Oh, look, a game between the Sharks and the Kings on October 7th.” She glanced at him. “Let’s watch it together, so I can prove to you that I’m not a fake fan.” 

“I don’t think you’re a fake fan,” Ethan said. 

Sophie smiled a bit, and put her phone away again. She pointed to him with a fry. “Bet you twenty bucks the Sharks beat the Kings,” she said, and popped the fry into her mouth. Ethan huffed out a laugh, and shook his head. Sophie lifted her eyebrows. “What? Too rich a bet for your blood?”

“No,” Ethan said. “It’s a ridiculous bet, and I don’t want to cheat you out of twenty dollars.”

“Mm, how noble of you,” Sophie sneered, aiming to goad him. His expressionless face indicated he knew that, and she relented, but only a little. “Fine, then. If you’re so afraid to lose your money -”

“I just said -” Ethan cut off with a sigh. “Fine. Twenty bucks.” He held out his hand across the table, and Sophie reached over to give it a single, confirming pump. Once more, their hands lingered together for longer than necessary. Sophie knew it for a fact. Their gazes met, and Sophie inhaled, pulling her hand away, first. 

“Good,” she said. “Can’t wait.” 

Ethan merely shook his head, but she could tell he was amused. 

They finished eating not long after that. The waitress came over to clear their dishes away, but Sophie barely noticed, too entertained by the way she’d gotten Ethan to go on a rant about the presidential race. 

His passion towards his feelings on the topic was obvious by the flush that had risen in his cheeks. “Anyone can run for president now, I guess! Even someone with no experience.” 

“If you gather a following, you can do anything you like,” Sophie pointed out. “Helps to have some money, too, which he does.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Ethan decided, glowering at his almost-empty cup of water. 

“Hey, man, it’s America,” Sophie said. “The land where any kid can grow up to be president.” She considered him. “Would you want to be president?” 

“No,” Ethan said at once. 

“Yeah, me either,” Sophie agreed. 

Their conversation continued, even without food in front of them. It switched from politics to work, and then back to movies, to hockey again, and finally, somehow, to what extracurriculars they’d done in high school. Sophie couldn’t remember the last time she’d spoken to someone about seemingly everything and nothing, so easily. There was a natural flow between them, and easy transitions between subjects that seemed never ending. 

Finally, however, Sophie looked down at her watch, and blanched when she realized it was almost midnight. 

“Holy hell,” she said, stunned. “Have we really been here for four hours?” 

“Yes,” their waitress sighed, from where she leaned against the counter of the diner, eyes half-lidded. 

Sophie exchanged a yikes look with Ethan, who had pulled out his wallet. Sophie realized this, and quickly reached for her own. 

“Do not,” she said, sternly, and tugged a twenty out. 

“No, you’re gonna need to hang onto that, for when I win our bet,” Ethan told her, tossing a twenty and a ten down onto the table. Sophie thought the huge tip was pretty fair, considering they’d been occupying the booth for four hours and had, at one point, gotten into a bit of a shouting match over whether or not the Star Wars movie that was coming to theaters in December was going to be good.

“Rude,” Sophie sighed, shoving the twenty back into her wallet all the same. She pushed it into her pocket, and then scooted out of the booth, stretching her arms up over her head. Ethan rolled his shoulders as he stood as well. 

“Sorry about that,” he said to the waitress, who merely stared at him. “Good night.” 

Sophie swallowed a giggle at the long-suffering look the waitress shot them both, and pushed against Ethan’s back to usher him out of the diner. When they were safely outside, she burst into laughter. Ethan joined in after a moment. 

“Well,” she began after managing to get a rein on her chuckles. She wiped beneath her eyes. “Can’t ever go back there.” 

“I think she’ll miss us if we don’t,” Ethan responded, grinning. 

Sophie grinned back, and then gestured with her head. “Let’s go. I hope there isn’t a set period of time we can be parked outside the gym before our cars get towed.” 

They headed back to the gym, walking at a pace that couldn’t be described as belonging to two people who really were worried about their cars being towed. When they finally reached the lot, they saw that any worries they should have had were unwarranted. Both Sophie’s Civic and Ethan’s Challenger were still present, parked side-by-side near the back of the lot. 

They walked to them, and then paused, standing in front of their respective vehicles. Sophie looked at Ethan for a moment, and then said, “Thank you for going. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No,” Ethan replied. “Which shouldn’t be a surprise. Your recommendations seem to be worthwhile.” 

Sophie smiled, and gestured towards the gym. “I’ll see you next week?” 

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “You will.” 

“Good.” She offered him a wave. “Good night, Winters.” 

“Night.”

They both turned, and got into their cars. Sophie noticed that Ethan did not pull out of the lot before she did, as though he were lingering to make sure she left safely. 

At least, this is what she imagined he was doing. She decided it made the most sense, considering what she’d learned about him, over the last few hours.

Notes:

I've finished writing this up to the end of RE7, which means we have months of content prepared to share in together. I'm excited to share it, and I'm excited for anyone who wants to to consume it, and talk about it with me.

Chapter 3: "That's who you are. You help."

Notes:

As well as posting new chapters every Tuesday, in honor of my first Resident Evil-based dream I had last night, I will be posting additional chapters whenever I have Resident Evil-based dreams.
Because why not?
Last night's dream: Castle Dimistrescu had been combined with my grandmother's house into an architectural nightmare that I was desperately racing through trying to obtain the Lady's Lipstick, which was the only item I missed inside of the castle during my second playthrough of RE8, which I have not been able to stop thinking about.

Chapter Text

Sophie's final month with the group sped by. Each Thursday, Ethan would help her put the chairs away, and then one or the other of them would suggest supper. They only encountered that same waitress from their first visit one other time, during those few weeks, which, Sophie was sure, was a relief for her. During these diner trips, their conversations entered into the same endless, easy rhythm that they had the first time, even if the topics were different. As the first game between the Sharks and the Kings drew nearer, Sophie goaded Ethan, wanting him to cave on the bet, but he was made of sterner stuff, and refused to. She couldn’t wait to see his face when the game ended in a Sharks victory. She wouldn’t actually take twenty dollars from him, obviously; it’d be enough to know that she’d been right. 

The final Thursday in September arrived with little ceremony, aside from the fact that Sophie had it circled on the calendar in her apartment, and labeled: “Last Meeting.” The school day seemed to speed by, like a race car attempting to qualify. When the final bell rang, Sophie lingered in the library, triple checking that all of the computers were logged out of, that the books that she’d checked in were all accounted for on the re-shelving cart. Maybe if she didn’t leave the library, time would stop moving, and she wouldn’t have to worry about it being her last meeting after all. 

Time was not a friend, however, and the hands on the clock soon read five thirty. She knew that she had to go, or someone on the janitorial staff would call the police, seeing the lights in the library still on. She claimed her bag, and headed out to the staff parking lot, feet dragging. 

She wasn’t sad about not being able to attend anymore meetings. The group has helped her heal after Kate’s death, and she felt much better than she had before joining it. It wouldn’t be fair for her to maintain a place within the group that she no longer needed, not when there were other people who could really benefit from attending the meetings. 

It was the fact that she’d no longer have an excuse to see Ethan that was bringing her spirits down. Sure, they had plans to watch that single hockey game together, and Ethan had joked about going to see the Star Wars movie in December, but… really, who was she to assume that he’d want to continue hanging out with her without the shared attendance of the group between them? 

She sighed, turning on her Civic. She needed to go home and change before heading to the gym. She never liked to wear her school clothes to the meetings. 

An hour later found her pulling into the parking lot of the gym. She was early, but that was all right, she always had a book to read with her in her car. As she was reaching for it, some John Grisham that she really shouldn’t allow herself to read, because it was swill, she heard another car drive in, and glanced up to see Ethan’s Challenger. She frowned to herself; he’d never arrived as early as this to a meeting, although he’d been showing up sooner these past few times. She liked to imagine it was because he knew that she showed up early, but that was ridiculous. 

She watched his car, waiting for him to emerge from it, which he did, after a moment. Usually, she’d go to him, but she didn’t feel like facing him, just yet. She half-hoped he wouldn’t come over to her own car, but she should have known better. 

Ethan walked across the few spaces between the vehicles to where she’d parked. She rolled her window down to greet him. 

“You’re super early,” she commented. 

Ethan shrugged. “Got off work a little sooner than I expected,” he said. “And I wanted to talk to you, before the meeting.” 

“About what?” Sophie asked, tilting her head to one side. 

Ethan studied her for a moment. “Were you going to tell me that this was the last meeting you’re coming to, or were you just going to let me find it out, next week, when you didn’t show up?” 

Sophie glanced down at her lap. “Louis told you?”

“I think he was worried,” Ethan said. “I don’t know why.”

Meddling old man, Sophie thought, but at the same time, she thought she’d need to tell Louis how grateful she was to him, for speaking to Ethan when she was afraid to. 

Ethan sighed. “Sophie, these past few Thursdays… I haven’t - it’s been over a year since I’ve felt like myself, and when we spend time together, I feel like I’m getting a reminder of who I was before… before everything.” He stepped closer to the car, leaned into the window, resting his arms on it. “I really hope that, when you stop coming, that isn’t going to mean we stop talking.” 

“It doesn’t have to,” Sophie said, after a moment, meeting his eyes. In the fading light of day, they looked closer to gray than they did brown. “I mean, I was hoping for the same thing.” 

“Good.” Ethan offered her a grin. “It’s about time I gave you my cell number anyway. You know, so I can text you during Sharks games and make fun of you.” 

Sophie smirked back. “Only if I’m not already making fun of you, during Kings games,” she said. She then held up her book, for him to see. “Have you read any of his stuff?”

“Yes,” Ethan replied, making a face. “I’m surprised you have.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I really need to find a different mystery author to read.” She tossed the book away again, and reached into her bag, pulling out her cell phone. She unlocked it, and held it out to him. “Go ahead, so I don’t forget.” 

Ethan took the phone, and handed it back thirty seconds later, the screen loaded onto the contact information he’d created for himself. Sophie grinned at him. “You didn’t put a picture.” 

“Why do you need a picture?” he asked. “You know who I am.” 

“That’s exactly why I need a picture,” Sophie told him, and held up her phone. “Smile.”

Ethan put up his hands. “I don’t take pictures.” 

Sophie took one all the same. “I know,” she said. “This is good enough.” She saved it as his contact photo, and then turned the Civic off after rolling the window up again. She got out of the car, and smiled at him. “Thanks, Winters,” she said, brightly. “I’ll be sure to put it to good use.” 

“Hope so,” Ethan said. “You get to buy the popcorn and drinks, when we go see Star Wars.”  

Sophie scoffed. “Please,” she said. “You’re paying for that stuff, Mr. Engineer. Concessions cost a fortune.” 

“Fair enough,” Ethan said, smiling again. He gestured towards the gym with his head. “Are you ready for your last meeting?” 

“Yeah,” Sophie answered, locking the car. “I am. I - I’m happy with where I’m at, but I know I’ve gotten as far with the group’s help as I can.” She glanced up at him. “But you’ll keep going, won’t you?” 

There was a moment of silence. Sophie waited, apprehensive, ready for him to say that he didn’t see the point. 

Finally, though, Ethan nodded, and she relaxed. “Yeah,” he said, looking at her. “I think I still have some things to learn, before I step away, too.” 

Sophie offered him a nod, with a small smile, and Ethan lifted one of his shoulders. Amused, she started towards the gym, and Ethan followed for a moment, before matching her pace and settling in at her side.

***

“I mostly just want to say thank you.” Sophie glanced around the circle, looking at everyone. Faces had changed over the last month, but for the most part, she found familiar ones looking back at her, listening to what she had to say. “This group really did help me, over the last few months. I’ve been able to talk about my grief in an open, accepting environment, and it’s been a healthier way of dealing with it than I could have found on my own. The advice I’ve heard from some of you has been… singular, and I hope I’ve been able to repay it in kind.” She offered them all a smile. “If some of you are still wondering if you’ll ever be happy again, after losing whoever it was you lost, take it from me: you will be, with time, and by having patience with yourself.” 

Applause rose up from the group, and Sophie ducked her head, embarrassed. This was how final meetings went for everyone, usually, but she had a feeling hers was of a bit more interest to everyone in the group, considering she was at every meeting, and that she put the chairs away. The people in the circle knew her to be a constant, and she thought it would be strange for them to see her go. It would certainly be strange for her to not have a place to be at every Thursday night. 

“We all wish you well, Sophie. You and the rest of your family,” Ross said, and she offered him a nod, before glancing sideways at Ethan as he moved the discussion on to a new topic. Ethan had joined the circle a few meetings ago. This time, he sat down from her by one person. He had his arms crossed over his chest, but he looked over at her when he felt her gaze, and gave her a small smile of his own. She mirrored it, and returned her focus to the meeting. Since it was her last, she may as well get all that she could out of it. 

The meeting progressed as usual. They went around the circle; anyone who wanted to speak did so, asked for any advice that they might have needed. A newer attendee, who’d lost her husband in a car accident, asked how to explain to her children that their father wouldn’t be coming home. 

“They’re only five and seven,” she murmured, holding a tissue tightly in one hand. Newcomers usually had a tissue on them at all times, during the first few meetings. “They’re too young to know what death is, but… what else am I supposed to tell them?” 

No one spoke, for several seconds. Sophie wondered if any of them knew exactly what to say. The woman was right to question her next steps. A five- and seven-year-old really were young, to know death, to understand its permanence. Still, though, what else was there for them to know? 

“The truth.”

Everyone, including Sophie, turned towards Ethan in surprise, and not without reason. Ethan had been at the meetings for almost two months, and this was the first time he’d spoken up without direct prompting. He glanced around at them all, and then focused on the woman. 

“They’re young,” he said, “but they’re going to get older. It wouldn’t be fair to them to tell them something that isn’t going to help them learn how to handle their grief later on, when they can better understand what death is.” He exhaled, and then shrugged. “They might not be able to express their feelings on the subject now, but they’ll be glad you didn’t lie to them, when they’re older. You could probably… get some professional help, too. Maybe talk to a child psychologist about how to approach the topic. Having them with you when you talk to your kids could help, because it’s what they do.” 

More silence, and then Ross looked at the woman as well. “He’s right,” he said, and the tension that had befallen the group due to the unexpectedness of Ethan speaking eased. “That’s excellent advice, Ethan. It’s important that you don’t give your children a reason to feel as though you’re keeping things from them, simply because they’re young. As Ethan said, they’re going to grow up, and as they do, they’ll be glad you were upfront with them, about what happened to their father, because they’ll want to talk more about it when they’re older, and having some understanding about it now will help them be able to do that.” 

“That makes sense,” the woman said, quietly, and she glanced at Ethan. “Thank you. I didn’t even consider talking to a professional about how to approach it. I’d - I’d forgotten that was an option.” 

Ethan nodded, and then lowered his gaze to his lap. Ross moved the conversation forward, and Sophie watched Ethan, willing him to look up at her. He did, eventually, and she raised her eyebrows, hoping her expression was one of encouragement. He seemed to understand, because the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile, and he shrugged his shoulders a little, as though to say, No big deal.  

But it had been, for him, to speak up that way during one of these meetings. A very big deal. Sophie hoped that he’d do so more and more often, as his next few months with the group passed, even if she weren’t there to witness it. From what she’d heard, Ethan had helpful things to say. He simply needed to say them more often. 

About half-an-hour later, she put away the final chair that the group had used for the last time. She looked at the rack for a moment, before she nodded to herself, and turned away from it. She found Louis standing nearby; he looked to have been waiting for her. She also caught sight of Ethan, who she knew had been waiting for her, and she held out a finger to him, asking for a minute. He nodded in agreement, and tugged his phone out of his pocket, as she approached Louis. 

The old man smiled at her. “Last time, then,” he said, and Sophie nodded. Louis cocked his head, looking very much like a curious dog whose owner had just squeaked a toy. “You’re sure you’re doing all right?” 

“I am,” Sophie said. “It - I’ve accepted that I’ll never know why Kate decided to take her own life, and that it’s okay not to know.” She lifted her shoulders. “We can’t always be aware of everything going on in the lives of people we care about, right?” 

Louis smiled a bit. “Just one of the many lessons we've learned here,” he said. 

“How are you, Louis?” Sophie asked, and he sighed. 

“A little better everyday,” he said. “There are some hard moments, but mostly I’m doing okay.” He glanced towards Ethan, who, Sophie had tried not to notice, had been looking over at them the entire time, doing his best not to be too obvious about it by holding up his phone. 

Louis turned back to Sophie. “Be careful with him, dear. He’s only barely getting over losing his wife. I don’t know what their relationship looked like from the inside, but from the outside… It isn't easy to lose your spouse, no matter what your relationship was like, because you love them. You’re in love with them, in fact, which makes things all the more difficult.” 

Sophie frowned at him. “I’m not - we’re barely friends, Louis.” 

“That’s how it begins,” Louis answered. “Just… be careful. That’s all I’m saying.” 

Sophie gazed at him for a moment, before she nodded, once. Louis’s serious expression melted into a smile. 

“Goodbye, Sophie Garner,” he said. 

“Bye, Louis,” Sophie responded, unable to keep from returning his smile. 

Louis dipped his head to her, and walked away. It took Ethan exactly fifteen seconds to join her, once Louis was gone. 

“Let’s get food somewhere else,” he said, and Sophie glanced up at him, an eyebrow raising. Ethan shrugged. “I mean, we won’t be going to the diner every Thursday anymore, right? We should find someplace new.” 

Sophie considered him. “Like a new chapter?” she queried. 

“Sure,” Ethan said. “Moving beyond the diner.” 

“All right,” Sophie said, deciding that he probably did have a point. It made sense to take their friendship beyond the diner, and the gym, now that they wouldn’t have the gym to share between them. The fact that he wanted to move it elsewhere was promising; maybe he’d been serious about wanting to remain friends, after all. 

“Where should we go?” she asked him. 

“It’s up to you,” Ethan said. “I guess we should drive separately, though, so we don’t need to worry about coming back here.” He glanced at her, eyes twinkling with humor. “Do you wanna get down on the floor and kiss the court? Maybe give the wall a pat on the way out?” 

Sophie glowered. “Fuck you,” she said, blithely, and pushed her way out of the gym ahead of him. “I’m sick of burgers. Let’s get something different.”

“Like?” 

“I don’t know. Do you like Mexican?” 

Ethan rejoined her as they approached where their cars were parked. “Sure.”

“Then follow me,” Sophie invited, pulling out her keys to unlock her car. She grinned at him. “Try not to fall behind.” 

Ethan hummed. “I think I can manage.” 

“Guess we’ll find out,” Sophie replied, and climbed in behind the wheel. 

That was the first and last time they drove somewhere separately. Every instance from then on included one or the other of them acting as the driver, for whatever outing they went on. 

Aside from the night of the first Kings and Sharks game. In that case, they shared the fee for a car. It made the most sense, considering they both got shitfaced. It was thrilling. Sophie imagined she’d never forget the feel of her drunken high as the Sharks’ score increased higher and higher over that of the Kings, and Ethan’s glower grew darker and darker. When the game ended with a wonderful 5-1, she turned to him, cheesing so hard she felt it in her ears. 

“Told ya so!” she said, aware that her accent had thickened considerably over the last three hours. She wondered if Ethan could even understand her, at this point. “Doofus.” 

“Hey, the name calling is unnecessary,” Ethan informed her, his own words slurring together a bit. She batted his hand down as he started to reach for his wallet. 

“Enough,” she scolded, and then patted the bar top. “Just pay for another shot.” 

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Prolly not,” Sophie allowed, grinning at the bartender as he poured more glimmering Patron into the shot glass she’d been using. She raised it to Ethan. “Cheers to you, Winters, and your goofy face.” 

Ethan reached up to touch his face as she cocked her head back, swallowing down the shot. “My face is goofy?” he asked, sounding a bit crestfallen, and she snickered. 

“Nah.” She reached out and patted his cheek as well. “That’s just you.” 

Ethan’s frown deepened. “But… but you’re the one who said -”

“Winters, Winters, you think too much,” Sophie soothed. She offered him a grin. “Let’s get out of here before I throw up all over this bar and you.” 

“Mm, that’d be bad,” he said, rising from his stool willingly enough to follow behind her. 

“Yeah.” 

They made their way out of the bar, and Sophie breathed deep the autumn air once they were standing on the sidewalk. She’d forgotten what it was like, to get drunk as a skunk and then allow the outside air to clear your head a little, just by breathing in. It was a beautiful sensation, almost as beautiful as the one she’d felt the moment she knew the Sharks would be victorious over the Kings. That had been a mindful sensation, though. This one was physical. 

She looked over at Ethan. He had his own head tilted back a bit, his eyes closed, hands in his pockets. He was wearing jeans, which was always a thrilling sight. They made his legs look long, and strong. Was he really that tall? She’d never noticed how tall he was. Maybe because she was usually sitting across from him in a restaurant booth of some kind.

Strangely, she was struck with the urge to jump on him. She didn’t know what the end goal of doing such a thing would be, whether to receive a drunken kiss, or a piggy back ride, or perhaps just to be held. She hadn’t been held in such a long time. She thought she might enjoy being held by Ethan, whatever that was worth. Maybe he wanted someone to hold. Maybe he wanted to hold her. 

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but before she could, Ethan’s head lifted again, his eyes opening. 

“It’s late,” he commented. “And I have work tomorrow.” 

“Ooph,” Sophie grunted, and was rewarded with one of his half-smiles, that really displayed his amusement. 

“I know.” He blew out a breath, and rolled his shoulders a few times. “Wanna share another car?”

“Yeah,” she said, forcing herself to look away from his chest, which she’d seen flex when he’d rolled his shoulders. “Sounds good.” 

Ethan pulled out his phone, and she took a few steps away, wrapping her arms around her waist. She knew it was only the alcohol, making her think these things, notice things like his chest flexing, but man, did she really wish it would quit. Louis had been right; Ethan had lost his wife, and only a little over a year ago. He still wasn’t completely over it, either, she knew. He’d said as much to her. 

She needed to forget it, forget whatever slimmer of attraction she’d started to feel for him, over the last month or so. It wasn’t fair of her, not when Ethan could use a friend, and really, she could use one as well. That was all they needed to be: friends. 

She wondered how long she’d be able to go on telling herself that, and decided that maybe it was smart to never get drunk with Ethan again. 

When the car arrived, Sophie felt much clearer-headed than she’d first had after leaving the bar. She slid into the back seat ahead of Ethan, who settled in beside her, pulling the door shut. 

“Dropping you off first,” he said. 

“Okay,” Sophie agreed, looking out the window as the car pulled away from the curb. She glanced at him. “Ethan?”

“Hm?” 

She offered him a smile, and then reached over to squeeze his forearm. “You’re so smart.”

Ethan looked sideways at her. “Am I?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “You - what you said to that woman. About how to talk to her kids. That was smart. And kind. You’re so kind.”  

“I was just… giving advice,” Ethan said, after a moment. He sounded confused, and really, could she blame him? She was being strange, and she really wished she could convince herself to stop.

“It was good advice,” she told him instead. “Kind advice. Smart advice.” She looked at him. “You’ll keep doing that, won’t you? Giving good, kind, smart advice? To anyone who needs it, that you can help?” 

“I can do my best,” Ethan said. 

“You will,” Sophie concluded, and she let go of his arm. “That’s who you are. You help.” 

She turned back towards the window again, content in this knowledge of him. She hoped he knew it, too.

Chapter 4: "Between... you and the car."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Sophie discovered that it was extremely strange to no longer be attending the meetings every Thursday. Throughout October and November, she found that she felt as though she were forgetting something, more often than not, and chalked it up to the fact that she no longer had a commitment that she was tied to in the same way she had been the grief counseling group. It was a bit strange for her, to not have something to focus part of her energy on, and so she found herself throwing it all into her developing friendship with Ethan instead.

The strange thing was: he didn’t seem to mind. 

And that bothered her, although for reasons she couldn’t articulate. 

Whenever she’d get antsy, and it was after five, she’d send him a text message, asking if he wanted to do something. His response was typically affirmative, and thus she’d have a way to spend upwards of three hours of her time. They’d get supper, or hang out at one of their apartments, or some combination of both. Ethan’s was nicer than hers, and he had a bigger collection of DVDs to watch, so it was usually his place they ended up at, after getting food. 

Sometimes, it’d be Ethan who’d text her. When he did, she’d grin, and immediately send him a response, pleased that he’d thought of her. Whenever he texted her, it usually meant he’d pick her up, and they’d go somewhere from there. More often than not, actually, Ethan was the one to drive, which wasn’t bad necessarily, although every time she got into the Challenger, she worried it was going to break down on the side of the road. 

“It’s not going to break down,” Ethan told her, once, about halfway through November. It was a Saturday, and they’d spent the majority of the day together, doing… Well, Sophie couldn’t actually say what they’d been doing, which was probably telling. All that mattered was that they were both content, she supposed. When the conversation began, he was driving her back to her apartment. 

“It could, though,” she insisted. “It’s an old car, Winters.” 

“Yeah, but I take care of it,” Ethan explained. “She’s in prime condition because of that.”

“She,” Sophie repeated, under her breath, smiling a little. 

“What?” 

She glanced at Ethan, and laughed when she saw his expression. “Just - it’s a very… man-thing of you to do, refer to your car as a ‘she’,” she said.  “Does she have a name?” 

Ethan frowned a bit, facing forward in his seat. He ran his hands along the steering wheel for a moment. “I - no,” he said, at last. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually… thought of a name. Is that bad?” 

“Well, I’ve never named any of my cars,” Sophie said, “but I don’t think I’ve ever been as attached to my cars as you clearly are to this one.” She glanced around, reaching out to pat the dashboard. “But maybe it doesn’t need a name.”

“She,” Ethan corrected. 

“Sorry, maybe she doesn’t need a name,” Sophie said, with just a hint of exasperation. “If you don’t feel like you need to… to speak to… to her, then you don’t necessarily need to have something to call her.” 

“But would it be nicer of me to give her a name?” Ethan sounded thoughtful. He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel for a moment, brows drawn together. “This is too hard.” 

“I can see why,” Sophie said, although she wondered if she should really be encouraging him in this manner. At the same time, however, she could see the benefits of examining his process of coming up with a name for the car, to get a better understanding of his sensibilities. She thought she could humor him long enough to do that. “She’s not really a color that you can use to make a name, which is the route most people would take.”

“That’s boring,” Ethan said, and Sophie smiled a bit. 

“Okay,” she replied. “So… what would you use to come up with a car’s name?” 

“I don’t know,” he said, after a moment. “The… its energy?” 

Sophie tried to fight back another laugh, but couldn’t. “Its energy?” 

“Yeah, you know…” Ethan lifted his shoulders. “The way you feel, when you’re driving it. The energy it gives off.” 

“I don’t know if energy is the right word,” Sophie said, “but… okay, go with that feeling. What… what energy does your car give off, Winters?” 

He cocked his head to one side, as they pulled up to a streetlight. “Gold,” he said, after a moment. “Like… a golden, warm… nostalgic energy.” 

“Okay.” Sophie watched him as the light turned green, and he drove beneath it, continuing down the route to her apartment. “So… old.” 

“No, no,” Ethan said. 

“No?” 

“No, not… not old. Nostalgia isn’t old.”  

“What is it, then?” 

“It’s… it’s comfort,” Ethan responded, and he said it with such surety that she really couldn’t question him. She tilted her own head, turning her gaze towards the windshield instead. The sun was setting in the distance, forcing her to squint a little, behind her sunglasses. 

“All right,” she said. “What names do you think reflect that feeling, then? Nostalgic comfort.” 

“I don’t know,” Ethan said. 

“I think you do,” Sophie replied, grinning. “Actually, I’m almost positive that as soon as we started having this conversation, you thought of a name!” He let out a laugh, and she glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. “Am I wrong?” 

Ethan let out a soft noise that she was pretty sure meant amusement, at this point. “Maybe,” he said. 

“Well, don’t make me wait,” Sophie said. “Tell me what you came up with.” Ethan chortled, and she flapped her hands. “Come on, I’m suffocating on the suspense, over here.” 

“You’re going to laugh.”

“Probably,” Sophie agreed at once, and he looked at her in dismay. She put her hands together in a pleading gesture. “Okay, I’ll try my best not to laugh. Please just tell me.” 

He sighed, quietly. “You won’t laugh?” 

“I’ll try my absolute hardest not to,” she assured. 

There was a moment of silence. And then two. They paused at another red light. Ethan adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. 

“Ethan,” Sophie said, and he glanced at her. “Please?” 

He inhaled. “Goldfinger.” 

Sophie, against her will, released a snort before she could cup her hands over her mouth and nose and glance away. Ethan huffed. 

“See? That’s exactly why I didn’t want to say it.”

“Goldfinger,” Sophie managed, her voice quivering from choked back laughter. “Oh, you sweet beach baby!” 

Ethan shook his head. “I should’ve just kept it to myself,” he grumbled. 

“Winters, you cannot name your car Goldfinger if you’re going to refer to it with feminine pronouns,” she gasped. “That’s not - no.”  

“You know, you could at least pretend you like it,” Ethan said, and she noticed that the tips of his ears were bright red. He was embarrassed. She felt a little bad, but honestly, what had he expected of her? Goldfinger.

“Ethan,” she cooed, hoping he wouldn’t hear patronization in her tone. He was honestly just too cute. She’d never felt more endeared to anyone than she was to him in that exact moment. “It’s - I appreciate the thought you put into it, but… honestly, what did you expect me to react with? Applause and a pat on the back?’ 

He pursed his lips. “I like Goldfinger,” he said. 

“I’m sure you do!” Sophie said. “And that’s great! But you - Winters, Goldfinger is a Bond villain. A male Bond villain.” 

“I know.”

“And… I know you said the car’s energy is gold, but… the car itself is more of a beige color.” 

“It’s nostalgic.”

Well, Sophie supposed she had to give him that, but Goldfinger had been released twenty years before he was born. It might be considered nostalgic for his parents, but for Ethan? 

Unless…

She looked sideways at him. “Did you watch the Bond movies, growing up?’ 

“Of course I did,” he said, gruffly, flicking on the blinker to turn into the parking lot of her apartment complex. “My dad loves them.” 

There it is.

Sophie smiled to herself as he pulled into a parking spot. She turned in her seat to face him. “Ethan, if you think Goldfinger is a good name for your car, then that’s the name you should go with,” she told him. 

“But you laughed at it,” he said, “which means other people will, too.” 

“No,” Sophie said. “You have a genuine reason for naming your car Goldfinger, and I think… I think it’s a great name. I’m sorry for laughing at it before.” 

Ethan grunted, and then, after a moment, his expression relaxed into one of concession. He glanced at her, leaning his head back against the headrest. “No, you were right,” he said. “It’s kind of a silly name. And I can’t name my car, just like that, after I’ve been driving it for so long.”

Sophie frowned a little. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Ethan replied, with a small shrug. “It would break the shared agreement between the two of us.”

“Between… you and the car.”

“Right.”

Sophie bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a smile. She nodded. “Okay. Sure.” 

“But I appreciate the suggestion, about coming up with a name,” Ethan said. 

She shrugged, turning to open her door. “I just thought it might be something you’d like to do, but… y’know, I think you were right.” She paused, and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Maybe it’s better for it to remain nameless, and… whatever you call it in your head, that’s what helps to establish a connection.”

“You’re making fun of me.” 

“I would never,” Sophie said, lightly, and pushed her way out of the car. “See you later, Winters.” 

***

Less frequently, Sophie would be the one to drive. Ethan, she knew, hated not being the one behind the wheel of the vehicle he was riding in. She’d learned this about him rather quickly. Still, there were occasions in which it was more convenient to take her car than his, and thus Sophie was the one to drive. 

Ethan stressed pretty much the entire time they were in her Civic together. So much so that, during one car ride in late November, she decided that she was over it.

Ethan’s most frequent stress noises were directions that were given more than once: “Turn left.”

“I know.”

“Just… just making sure.”

“You’ve told me to turn left at the next light at least seven times since you gave me the last direction.” 

A moment of silence. 

“Le-left.”

“Winters -”

“I’m sorry. This is - this is why I like being the one who drives. If I’m not, I worry constantly that we aren’t going to get where we’re going.” 

Sophie glanced out from the corner of her eye and saw that Ethan was rubbing his hands up and down his thighs, his own eyes fixed on the windshield. She’d really never seen him so distressed, and it was actually a bit alarming. She turned left where she was supposed to, and then took an immediate right into the next parking lot that they encountered. Ethan’s brows drew together as she parked the car. 

“What’re -?”

“You’re driving,” she said, deciding that she wouldn’t be able to get them anywhere as long as he continued to stress and passenger-seat drive. “It’ll be easier that way.” 

Before he could argue, she got out of the car, and moved around to the passenger side instead. After a moment, Ethan opened the door, and peered up at her. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You can drive. It’s your car.”

“I actually can’t drive,” she said. Then, because he didn’t get out of the car, she added, as nicely as she could, “Your stress is making me stress, and I’m a little afraid that, if I have to sit behind the wheel of my car with you having quiet anxiety next to me, I’ll drive us into a tree.” 

Ethan blinked. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes,” she said. “Now, move. We’re going to be late for the movie if you don’t.”

Ethan sighed, but all the same undid his seatbelt and got out of the car. Sophie settled into the passenger seat of her own Civic, and after a moment, he slid in behind the wheel. Shortly thereafter, they were both buckled in again, and back on the road. 

After they’d driven for a couple minutes, Ethan glanced over at her. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” 

“I’ll just… drive us, from now on,” he suggested.

“I mean, I don’t want you to have to use all your gas,” Sophie said, “so we’ll trade off, and you can just drive my car.”

“But it’s your car.”

“And I’ve learned that I literally cannot drive if you’re sitting in the passenger seat.” 

Ethan blew out a breath. “I’m a lot, huh?” 

“Just in that way,” Sophie replied. She smiled a little, looking over at him. “You kinda remind me of my grandpa, when he taught me how to drive.”

“Your grandpa taught you how to drive?” Ethan asked. “Shouldn’t your mom have done that?” 

“She flat-out refused,” Sophie said. “She thought my vision was too bad, even with my glasses.” She snickered, remembering. “They probably should’ve just put me through a class. My grandpa got into the car with me wearing a bicycle helmet.”  

“Are you serious?” 

“I’m completely serious,” Sophie answered. “He thought I’d hit a pole or something, and send him through the windshield, and every time we pulled up to a red light, he’d pump that imaginary break so hard, y’know.” She mimed the action her grandfather had done, kicking down with her right foot in an exaggerated motion. Ethan snorted, and she shook her head, grinning. “I never hit a pole, and I always pulled up nice and gentle at red lights. I think he just didn’t like having control.” 

“My dad was kind of the same way,” Ethan said. “My parents did put me in a driving class, after they tried to teach me for three months and couldn’t handle it.” 

Sophie hummed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I guess that’s just a decision parents have to make, like anything else,” she said. “Whether or not they’re capable of teaching their children to drive. My sister got to go into a class, because my grandpa swore he wasn’t going to do it again, and my mom was too afraid to try.”

Ethan smiled a bit. “My sister was easy,” he said. “She’d been driving golf carts and stuff since she was tall enough to reach the pedals. She always liked to be behind the wheel of things.” 

“Not Kate,” Sophie said, shaking her head. “I think she would’ve avoided trying to learn how to drive, if she could have, but she needed to, to get herself to school. I never got to drive her, since we were too far apart in age, but once she did learn to drive, she’d come over to Corpus Christi, some weekends, just to see me.” 

“That’s nice,” Ethan said. “Did you ever give your underaged sister alcohol?” 

“Of course not,” Sophie replied, pretending to be affronted by the suggestion, even as she smirked. “What do you take me for?” 

“A cool big sister,” Ethan told her. 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Sophie said, “and… I may have taken her to one college party. Just one. But I made sure she only drank Mike’s Hard the entire time.” That was a tiny lie. They’d definitely taken a few shots together, if Sophie’s blurry memory of said party was correct. Still, even if Ethan appeared to be joking about it, she really didn’t think she made herself look very good by saying that she definitely encouraged underaged drinking whenever her sister came to visit her at college. 

“The first time I got drunk, I was seventeen,” Ethan said. 

“Were you really?” That surprised her a bit. 

Ethan nodded. “It was awful. I don’t even remember… how I ended up at that party. I just know that when I left, I was seeing double and might have died if Lauren hadn’t been home to make sure I didn’t vomit all over myself after I passed out in the basement.” 

Lauren was his sister. He’d mentioned her plenty of times before. One thing that Sophie had learned about Ethan for sure over the last few months was that his family was incredibly important to him, and before Mia, he’d had close relationships with his parents and his sister and her family. Apparently, though, when they’d moved to Texas for Mia, because of her work, those relationships had dissipated a little. Hearing this had bothered Sophie more than it probably should have; after all, Ethan hadn’t needed to move to Texas with Mia. He’d made that decision on his own. 

“Little sisters.” Sophie exhaled, leaning her head back against the headrest. It wasn’t often that she was a passenger in her own car. It was actually kind of horrifying, but a bit thrilling, too, to know that she had someone to drive her. She hadn’t really ever had a friend like that. “I’d toast to them, but we don’t have any drinks.”

Ethan smiled a bit. “We’ll remember to, the next time we go to the bar to watch hockey,” he suggested.

Sophie nodded in agreement. “Great plan.” 

They reached the movie theater, and saw the movie. When it ended, about two hours later, they agreed that they would’ve rather gone bowling or something instead, because it had sucked. Still, they had a bucket of popcorn that they hadn’t finished, which meant that they were free to head back to Ethan’s apartment and watch something much better. 

“I think we should catch up on the Star Wars movies, before the new one comes out,” Sophie suggested halfway back to his apartment complex. 

“You’re probably right,” Ethan agreed. “I only own the original trilogy.”

Oddly, that didn’t surprise her.

“That’s all right,” she said. “I have the prequels. We’ll combine resources.”

“So we’re going to watch them by release date, and not in chronological order?” 

“Well, we can’t, because you don’t have the prequels at your apartment.”

“So let’s stop at your place and grab them,” Ethan said, as though this were the clear solution, despite the fact that it was almost six at night.

“And, what, we binge-watch them?” Sophie shook her head. “No thank you. I have work on Monday.”

“It’s Saturday night!” 

“Winters, do you understand what an undertaking it is, to watch a Star Wars movie? Especially one of the prequels?” He didn’t respond, and she gestured. “I’ll take your silence as acceptance. There’s no way.”

“Well… then maybe we should skip the prequels,” Ethan said, after a moment. 

“What, and miss out on Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen?” Sophie snorted. “Please.”

Ethan sighed. “I should’ve guessed you’d make that argument.” 

“Honestly? Yeah, you should have.” He shook his head, but he was laughing, and Sophie smiled as well, looking out the passenger-side window of her car, while her friend drove them back to his apartment.

Notes:

This was definitely a filler chapter that I wrote, like, two days ago, sorry.

Chapter 5: “I’m an adult with no friends.”

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Do you know how to cook?” 

Sophie glanced up from the book she was reading. “Why do you ask?” 

Ethan was sitting nearby on her couch, feet kicked up onto the coffee table. The first time he’d done that, she’d considered asking him not to, knowing he’d comply. She’d then considered it, and decided she appreciated his comfort level within her apartment was high enough to the point that he even considered doing such a thing, and decided that that was more important to her than keeping prints off the coffee table’s surface. 

Ethan’s brows were drawn together as he flicked his thumb against his phone’s screen. 

“My parents are coming to Waco to visit,” he said, “and I told them I’d cook for them.” He looked over at her, his dismayed expression more obvious, now. “I don’t know how to cook anything that isn’t boxed macaroni and cheese.”

Sophie smiled. “Would you want me over, when your parents are visiting?” she asked him. “Wouldn’t that be weird? They’re coming to see you; if you had a guest, they’d think you weren’t wanting to give them your full attention.” 

Ethan shrugged. “They want to meet you.” 

Sophie’s smile faded. “They what?” 

He glanced at her. “Yeah,” he said. “I told them that I met you, at the group counseling meetings. Well, I told my mom.” He frowned. “Sorry. Is that - was I not supposed to? I just figured, since we’re friends -”

“No, it’s - it’s fine,” Sophie replied at once. “I just - I didn’t expect you to, that’s all.” She hadn’t told her mother about Ethan; she would have asked too many questions that Sophie really didn’t want to answer. 

“Sorry,” Ethan said again, after a moment of silence. “She asked how the meetings were going, and you came up in the natural flow of conversation.” 

“It’s okay,” Sophie assured. “Really.” She exhaled, and set her book to the side. “I don’t know why it seemed weird to me, at first. Probably because I never had many friends whose parents weren’t, like, acquaintances already, because they knew my mom, or whatever.” She made a face. “I’m an adult with no friends.”

“What did we just finish talking about?” Ethan asked. She looked at him, and relented when she saw the look on his face. 

“Right. I’m an adult with one friend,” she amended. “What did you want to cook for them?” 

“I don’t know,” Ethan sighed, and went back to scrolling through his phone. “My parents’ll eat anything, so I could probably just take them out, but I don’t want to do that for the whole weekend.”

“Why are they coming now, instead of waiting until Christmas?” she asked him. 

“We’ll go visit my sister in Washington for Christmas and New Year’s,” he explained. “Or, I’m supposed to go. Might not be able to, though, if I can’t get off work.” 

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “The systems need you on Christmas?”

“The systems always need me,” Ethan replied seriously but absently, gazing at his phone. 

Sophie almost laughed, but didn’t. Instead, she said, “How do they feel about relatively spicy food?” 

“Probably gives my dad indigestion, but if it’s good, he’ll eat it anyway.” Ethan looked up at her, expression hopeful, now. “Do you have something in mind?” 

“Cajun Chicken Pasta,” Sophie said, and when Ethan did not respond, she waved her hand. “Y’know. Chicken and pasta, cajun seasoning. It’s pretty good; I make it for myself sometimes, at the beginning of the week, and then I have leftovers for the next day.” 

“It sounds like a lot of work.” 

Sophie scoffed. “Takes thirty minutes, maybe,” she said. “The annoying part is cutting up the chicken, and finding a vegetable to go with it. Broccoli usually does okay, though.” 

Ethan was quiet for a moment. She waited, wondering if he’d accept the suggestion, or continue looking for one of his own. She thought he wouldn’t, though, considering he’d already taken the leap of asking if she knew how to cook. It was clear he felt out of his element, and wanted help, even if he didn’t directly ask for it. 

“I can cut chicken, I think,” he said, and she nodded in agreement. 

“I think so, too,” she said. “Can you also buy penne pasta, cajun seasoning, some garlic, and heavy cream?” 

“And broccoli?” Ethan added. 

“And broccoli.”

“Sure.”

Sophie offered him a grin. “And I can cook it,” she said, “so it sounds like we’re in business. Maybe you’ll learn something.” 

“If it’s good, I’ll probably wish I had,” Ethan said. “Maybe you can just keep cooking it for me, though.” 

Sophie was glad he was back to looking at his phone, because she felt a blush warm her cheeks. “You need to learn to cook for yourself eventually, Winters,” she admonished, and reached for her book again. 

They fell into silence, for a while. Sophie actually managed to get back into the plot of her book; it was a surprise when Ethan spoke up again. 

“Mia said she wanted to learn to cook.” She looked over at him, saw he’d set his phone down, and was leaning his head over the back of the couch, eyes trained on the ceiling. “She kept saying she was going to, but… she never actually did. Never bought a cookbook, never asked if there was a recipe I wanted her to try. I don’t know if she just never felt like she had the time, or if she never actually wanted to learn how.” He sighed. “Maybe it’s pointless to wonder.” 

Sophie watched him for a second. “When did the two of you meet?” she asked at last. She hadn’t ever asked him questions about Mia, not really. It was mostly due to the fact that he talked enough about her, at the group counseling sessions; she doubted he wanted to bring her up outside of them as well. 

“2009,” Ethan said. “I was twenty-five, living in L. A. Feeling like the king of the world, in all honesty.” He exhaled. “We met at the beach. I used to run on the one nearest my apartment, in the mornings, but that day, I was… I’d gotten off work early, and it was nice out, so I decided to go in the afternoon instead. She was there, visiting a friend, I think. They were sitting on beach towels, close enough to the water where they didn’t have to walk very far to touch it, but far enough back that the waves wouldn’t get them wet unless they wanted.” He exhaled. “I can’t believe that was only a few years ago. It feels like a lifetime.”  

Sophie watched him, waiting for a change in his expression, one that hinted at the love he felt for Mia. It didn’t come. “Did you - did you love her then?” 

Ethan hummed. “No,” he said. “I thought she was pretty, but I didn’t like how… how outspoken she was. She was actually kind of obnoxious, sometimes, as though she had to try too hard to seem… I don’t know, normal.” 

“She wasn’t normal?” 

“I don’t think so,” Ethan answered. “Not in the way most people are. She was… she was always hiding something. If she wasn’t lying to me directly, she was lying by omission. I doubt I’ll ever find out why. She was lying to me even before we started dating, before we got engaged, before we got married. But it - I don’t know. I guess I was twenty-five with a twenty-three-year-old sister who’d already found a husband and had a baby on the way, and I was worried that… that I’d somehow manage to be the family disappointment if I didn’t try to do that same thing sooner rather than later. And Mia was there. I think she knew that… that I was willing to ignore the fact that she lied to me, as long as we were able to look outwardly like a happy couple. And we were, I guess, but… no relationship should start with a foundation of lies, and that’s… that’s all Mia had. Lies.” 

He stopped speaking, and Sophie found herself looking at him in fascination, listening intently to this explanation of his relationship with Mia, and wondering why in the world someone like him had ever worried he wouldn’t meet someone and settle down with them. Wondering why he’d felt like he needed to rush into something with someone like Mia, whom he clearly had seen through, soon enough that he could have… could have left. Which meant that there was a reason he didn’t, and really, there was only one possibility. 

“You must have loved her a lot,” she concluded, almost to herself. 

“Yeah,” Ethan responded, just as quietly. “I guess when you get to know someone, you really only have two options, in the end. Love them, or hate them. And… I don’t think I could ever hate Mia, because we were good together. In all ways aside from the honesty part.”

Sophie leaned back against the couch cushion. They were sharing, and she didn’t want to lie to him. Might as well get it out of the way. 

“My sister was a lesbian,” she said. 

“Oh?” Ethan sounded somewhere between confused and astonished. 

“I think that was at least part of the reason she decided to kill herself,” Sophie went on. “My mother would’ve died before loving Kate despite it, and Kate knew it, so she killed herself instead.” She shook her head, glancing at him. “Not wanting to be a disappointment, I guess.” 

She felt Ethan studying her, the way she’d only moments before been studying him. “You never said, at any of the meetings.”

“It wasn’t their business,” Sophie said. “And it really wasn’t mine. I should’ve… I could’ve done something for her, stood up for her to our mother, but I didn’t. I never chose to. And that’s going to stay with me until the day I die. Part of the reason my sister killed herself was because I wasn’t brave enough to speak up for her. Me, not brave enough to… to stand up for my gay sister to our homophobic mother.” She let out a small, humorless laugh. “Imagine that. Liberal Texan my ass, huh?” 

“Sophie… you can’t blame yourself for that,” Ethan murmured. “We all have an inherent need to please our parents, in whatever ways we can.” 

“If I’d decided to actually stand for what I believe in, to stand for my sister, maybe she’d still be alive,” Sophie went on, ignoring him. “I went to those meetings to try and convince myself that I don’t need to think about that, every day, but I still do. Because how can I not?” She glanced upwards, letting out a shaky breath. “I’ve mourned my sister, and I’ve accepted her decision to take her own life. I can’t accept that I was at least partially the cause.” 

She bowed her head, and rested her face in her hands, feeling a few tears escape as she let out a soft sob. She heard Ethan shift down the couch, and then his arm was around her, pulling her into his side as he rubbed her shoulder. 

“Hey,” he soothed. “Don’t cry. I don’t think your sister would be happy to hear you blaming yourself, would she?”

Sophie sniffed. “No,” she said. “She’d be yelling at me, shouting that it was her choice, that she made up her mind, that nothing I could have said or done would have changed it. Kate was a stubborn ass.” 

“Sounds like it’s a trait you share,” Ethan commented, and Sophie halfheartedly socked him on the thigh. “Ouch,” he said around a laugh. “Why do you punch so hard?” 

“I take kickboxing lessons every other Saturday,” she mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t move away from her, now that she’d managed to stop crying. She enjoyed feeling his arm around her, resting her head against the side of his chest. 

“You do?” Ethan asked, sounding surprised. 

“And I’ve been in firearms training since I was a sophomore in high school,” she said, “although… it wasn’t official firearms training until I was twenty-one, obviously. My uncle was a licensed instructor though, and I wanted to learn, so he taught me, and I’ve had a concealed carry license since I was twenty-three.” 

“Huh.” Ethan sounded dumbfounded, but to his credit, the grasp he had around her did not loosen. “Have you ever shot anybody?” 

“Once.” Sophie ran her hand beneath her nose. “I didn’t like it, but he’d punched a guy hard enough to knock him out, and stolen a lady’s purse, so I did what I had to to keep him in one place until the cops got there.”

“A liberal Texan who knows how to use a gun and has shot someone,” Ethan mused, and she shoved him a little with her shoulder. Ethan chuckled. “Remind me to never piss you off.” 

“Ass,” she muttered, but she was smiling now. “You should learn, too. Can’t be a true Texan without knowin’ how to fire a gun, Winters.”

“I’m always going to be a Californian,” Ethan replied. When he pulled away, Sophie felt a little let down, but tried not to let it show. “Besides, what more is there to shooting a gun than stand and point?” 

Sophie snorted. “Oh, you sweet beach baby,” she cooed. “There is so much more to it than that. Like… did you know your wrist can snap when you fire a gun, if you’re holding it wrong?” 

“I didn’t,” Ethan said, after a moment, “and I honestly could have gone on not knowing. What the fuck?” 

“It’s the truth,” Sophie said with a shrug of her shoulders. 

“I am terrified of you,” Ethan decided. 

Sophie smiled. “Oh, God bless. That was my goal.” 

He smiled, and then glanced at his watch. “I should go,” he decided. “It’s late.” 

“Is it?” Sophie grabbed his wrist so that she could check the time as well, and was surprised to see it was almost nine. “Wow! The hell have we done for the last two hours since we got back from supper?” 

“I don’t know,” Ethan answered. “Funny how that works sometimes, huh?” 

Sophie realized she was still holding his wrist, but she also realized Ethan hadn’t pulled away. She glanced up to meet his gaze, and he grimaced. 

“I’m afraid you’ll break it.” 

She snorted, and let go, scooting away from him. “I don’t know how to break a wrist just by holding it,” she grumbled. “By kicking it, maybe.” 

“I don’t wanna find out,” Ethan said, standing. “Talk to you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Sophie said, smiling. “Let me know if you want me to go to the store with you, to grab all the things we’ll need for supper.” 

“All right.” She watched Ethan head across the living room of the apartment to the front door. He paused in front of it, glancing back at her. “You really don’t mind cooking?” 

“I don’t,” Sophie responded. “Although, you could cook it yourself.” 

“Sure, but why would I want to?” Ethan asked, and he opened the front door. “Bye, Soph.”

“Bye,” she replied, belatedly, watching as he stepped out of the apartment, and pulled the front door shut behind him. She blinked at it. He’d never called her ‘Soph’ before. No one had. 

She smiled to herself, leaning back into the couch cushion. She thought she could get behind Ethan calling her ‘Soph’ for forever, if he wanted to. 

***

“Do you always wait until the last minute to prepare for visits?” Sophie asked, pushing along the shopping cart up the aisle of the H-E-B. 

“Sometimes,” Ethan said. “I don’t really get a lot of visitors. My sister’s usually the one that hosts, but my parents haven’t seen me in person since - well, since the first few months after Mia disappeared.” He glanced at the boxes of cereal that they were passing by. “It was my mom’s idea for them to come see me before Christmas. I feel like she wants to make sure I’m not going to depress the entire gathering with my presence.” He shrugged. “If I can go to Christmas.” 

“You’d better figure that out sooner rather than later,” Sophie suggested, turning the cart into the next aisle, which was where the spices and such were. “It’s two weeks away.” 

“I know.”

They paused in front of the spices, and Sophie considered the rows for a moment, before reaching out and tugging a Cajun seasoning from one. She held it up for his inspection. 

“Most Cajun seasoning tastes pretty much the same,” she said. “Sometimes, for extra kick, I add some chili powder, but since you mentioned your dad’s indigestion, that’s probably not a good idea, this time around.” She tossed the seasoning into the cart, which already had a box of penne pasta, as well as the heavy cream, in it. She began to move past the spices, but Ethan lingered, reaching out and pulling one from the shelf. 

“What’s the difference between minced garlic and… and the kind you want to get?” he asked. 

Sophie frowned at him. “The kind I want to get is fresh,” she said, “and it tastes better.” She shook her head, when he held up the bottle of minced garlic. “That’s gross.”

“What do you use it for?” he asked. 

“Don’t know,” Sophie said. “I always get the fresh kind.” 

Ethan considered the bottle for a moment longer, before replacing it on the shelf. Sophie faced forward again and continued pushing the cart. 

They circulated the entire H-E-B. Sophie was glad to go shopping with him; it made buying food for her own apartment seem less tedious, since she had someone to talk to while doing so. It was a little weird, shopping for their separate homes in one cart, and anyone they would have told this would have looked at them funny, but Sophie really didn’t mind. Neither, it seemed, did Ethan, since this was the tenth or so time they’d gone grocery shopping together.

She wondered what the cashiers who ended their shopping trips thought of them, sometimes. Did they imagine they were siblings? Maybe they understood that they were simply good friends. Maybe they thought they were good Christian folk, living separately until they were joined in marriage. 

This amused her, and she smiled a bit, momentarily forgetting she was meant to be selecting a head of broccoli, until Ethan joined her at the cart again, holding two different bags of apples; one for her apartment, one for his. 

“What?” he asked, seeing she held an empty plastic produce bag, but no broccoli. He looked at them himself for a moment. “Is there not a good one?” 

“No, I got distracted,” she said, and handed him the bag to open while she picked one. She did, deciding it was big enough to suit their purposes, and turned to slip it into the bag, which Ethan held out and then tied shut. 

“There we go,” she said, considering the collection of ingredients they’d gathered for the Cajun Chicken Pasta that were in one corner of the cart. By her calculation, the entire meal would cost Ethan less than fifteen dollars, which was honestly fantastic, considering it would feed four people. 

Well, maybe four. Ethan hadn’t actually invited her to stay for supper with his parents, yet. She wouldn’t make assumptions, even though Ethan had said they wanted to meet her. And she was cooking it. 

“Is that everything?” she asked, glancing up at him. 

“Yeah,” Ethan replied, after examining the cart himself. “Did you get everything you needed?” 

“Mhm.” Sophie scooted out of the way so that he could take over pushing the cart as they headed for the registers. She walked along beside him, looking over her grocery list, and cursed. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I forgot my damn coffee creamer,” Sophie sighed. “Of all things.” 

“Go get it,” Ethan said, eyeing the lines. “I doubt I’ll have moved much, by the time you get back.”

“Okay.” Sophie moved away from the cart, nudging her way through the crowd of people that always seemed to form at the front of a grocery store when you were ready to checkout, to get back to the dairy section. When she got there, she headed right for the creamers, and peered through the glass doors, looking for her flavor. She didn’t see it, and she muttered under her breath, moving closer. It was a popular flavor of International Delight, French Vanilla, and sometimes it wasn’t available, but honestly, she was almost out, and she needed her coffee in the mornings. 

She examined the lines of creamer twice more, before accepting defeat. No French Vanilla to be found. Annoyed, she opened one of the doors and pulled out her secondary choice instead. Hazelnut sucked, but at least it turned her coffee from black to something that was drinkable. And it was better than CoffeeMate’s version of French Vanilla. 

Besides, she couldn’t linger in front of the creamers mourning the absence of French Vanilla for long. She needed to get back to Ethan. 

As quickly as she could, considering the foot traffic inside the H-E-B, she made her way back to the registers, and stood still for a moment, looking around for Ethan’s blond head. She spotted it, up the lane for register fourteen, and smiled to herself. Predictable. His favorite number was fourteen. 

She moved through the crowd, and was by his side within thirty seconds, setting the creamer into the cart. He considered it, and then her. “No French Vanilla?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she huffed. 

***

“No, in chunks, I said!” Sophie nudged Ethan out of the way of his kitchen counter, taking the knife he’d been using to butcher the chicken. “Can’t I trust you to do anything?” 

“I told him not to worry about cooking,” his mother Rosemary said from where she stood nearby, shaking her head. “The last time I saw Ethan in the kitchen, he was twelve and setting a piece of toast on fire.” 

“Mom,” Ethan sighed, indignant. 

“It’s the truth,” Rosemary said with a shrug. 

Sophie smirked at Ethan, and then gestured with her head towards the pot on the stove. “Go keep an eye on that,” she instructed. “When it starts to boil, dump the pasta in. Just the pasta, not the box, too. Got it?” 

“I know how to boil pasta,” Ethan grumbled, and went to do as she said. 

Rosemary chuckled as she joined Sophie at the counter. “Thank you, for being here for him,” she said, quietly, when Ethan had turned to face the stove and the pot on top of it. 

“It’s no trouble,” Sophie said. “He asked if I knew how to cook, and I realized pretty quickly that he needed help.” 

“I don’t just mean with dinner,” Rosemary said, gently, and Sophie paused in cutting the chicken to glance at her. The older woman had the same light brown eyes with undertones of gray as her son, and she offered Sophie a small smile. “He’s been doing well, from what he’s told me. I believe part of that is because of you, and your friendship with him.” 

Sophie hummed, and returned her attention to the chicken, “Everyone can use a friend.” 

“That’s very true,” Rosemary agreed. “I hope he’s been as much a benefit to you, as you’ve been to him.” 

“Even more, maybe,” Sophie admitted. 

“Good,” Rosemary said, smiling. She patted the hand Sophie was holding the knife in, and then turned towards Ethan. “Are you burning the pasta?” 

“C-can you burn pasta?” Ethan returned, sounding confused. 

Within thirty minutes, just as Sophie had said when she and Ethan had first discussed the recipe, she was plating up four servings of Cajun Chicken Pasta, all of which smelled fucking devine. Ethan stood nearby, watching, and she turned to hand him first one plate, and then another. 

“There you go,” she said, smiling up at him. “A home cooked meal for your parents. Just like you asked.” 

“Thank you, Soph,” he replied. “Really.” 

“No problem.” She picked up the other two plates, and met his gaze as she moved around him to exit the kitchen. “Really.” 

He followed her out into the small dining room attached to his apartment’s kitchen. His parents sat there already, his father with reading glasses on the end of his nose as he skimmed through his phone, his mother rearranging the silverware. 

“Andrew,” she said, brightly, when Sophie and Ethan emerged from the kitchen, and Ethan’s father glanced up, looking at them from over the tops of his lenses. 

“Ah, good,” he said, and slid his phone into his pocket, before pulling his glasses off. “Smells good.”

“Which is the best first sign that it’ll taste good,” Sophie responded, and set one of the plates down in front of him. “I recommend tossing some extra cheese on top.” 

They settled in around the table. Sophie was relieved that the meal was good. The fact that everyone was eating without speaking indicated as much, and she glanced at Ethan. The corner of his mouth lifted, and he tilted his head towards his father, eyebrows lifting. Sophie could read the expression easily enough: He likes it. It’s good.  

Sophie smiled back, and looked down at her own plate. 

A few more minutes of silence passed. Eventually, Rosemary looked at her. 

“Ethan told us that you’re from Texas, Sophie.” 

“I am,” Sophie replied. “Born and raised. I’ve actually lived in Waco my whole life.”

“Where’d you go to school?” Andrew queried. “You’re a librarian, right?” 

“Corpus Christi,” Sophie said. “And, yes. I always wanted to be one. Mostly I wanted free access to all the books in one.” Rosemary chuckled, and Andrew smiled a bit. It was the same half-smile that Ethan possessed. “But there’s other parts of the job that I enjoy, especially when you’re a school librarian. I like helping the students with their research papers; I learn a lot of new information that I wouldn’t normally have.” 

“Like what?” Andrew asked, putting another forkful of pasta and chicken into his mouth. 

“I was telling Ethan about one student’s paper, at the beginning of December,” she said. “All of the seniors, in their government class, have to write a ten page paper about any topic that they like. I had one student walk into the library and ask about whether or not the U.S. government has ever employed the mafia.” 

Rosemary seemed intrigued. “Odd choice.”

“Yeah,” Sophie said. “Turns out, though, that the history of the relationship between the mafia and the government is actually kind of congested. The student decided to write about Operation Underworld, which was the mafia’s involvement during World War II. I didn't know about it until I found a few articles that the student could use. It’s pretty interesting.”

“Do you think you could be on Jeopardy!?” Rosemary asked, and Sophie grinned. 

“No,” she said. “I’d click the button for every question, just due to the stress of competing with two others. When there’s speed involved, I let the idea of that get ahead of anything else.” 

“It’d just be a matter of training yourself,” Andrew said, thoughtfully. “I bet you could do it.” 

“Thanks,” Sophie said, looking at Ethan again. “Ethan’s smarter than I am, though.”

“No I’m not,” he said at once. 

“Sure you are,” Sophie said. “I’m just good at doing research. You have a great memory. That’s what you need to be on Jeopardy!.”  

Ethan rolled his eyes. “My memory isn’t that good,” he said. 

“Oh, Ethan, you know that isn’t true,” Rosemary scolded. “You’ve had an excellent memory your entire life. You knew all of the state capitals when you were six.” 

Sophie brightened. “He did?” she asked, cheesing at him, pleased to see he looked mortified to have had this fact about himself shared. 

“He did,” Andrew said, his eye roll extremely similar to Ethan’s own. “It was Rose’s favorite party trick, pulling Ethan in front of our guests and having him go through the entire United States. Got to the point where he could name them all in less than a minute.” 

Sophie turned to Ethan again. “I would like to hear this, please and thank you,” she said. 

“Ah, no,” Ethan said at once, putting up his hands. 

“C’mon!” Sophie goaded. “I cooked supper, you can name all the states and their capitals for me.”

“I doubt I still know them all,” Ethan said. “It - I mean, who knows the capital of Connecticut?” They all gazed at him expectantly, and he looked between them before turning his eyes down towards his plate. “It’s Hartford.” 

Rosemary held her hand out to him, and Sophie lifted her eyebrows and tilted her chin down, offering Ethan her imploring expression. “Pretty please?” she asked, sweetly. 

Ethan sighed. “Maybe later,” he said. “I haven’t finished eating yet.” 

Sophie leaned back in her chair, content with that response. She’d hear it eventually. 

“So, Sophie, what are your plans for the holidays?” Rosemary queried, a few minutes later. “Ethan mentioned your mother - are you going to spend it with her?” 

Sophie hummed. “Most likely,” she said. “My mother and I haven’t been speaking much since my sister passed away, which I should probably rectify, but she’s… well, she’s just as stubborn as I am, which makes it difficult.” 

Ethan looked at her, his eyebrows coming together in concern. She knew why; she hadn’t mentioned to him that she and her mother hadn’t been talking, mostly because she hadn’t wanted to get into everything. And, really, even if he was her friend, it wasn’t any of his business. Just because he’d told his parents about her didn’t necessarily mean that it made sense for her to have told her mother about him. Everyone had a different relationship with their parents; Ethan, it seemed, was much closer with his than she was with her mother, which was great. 

Rosemary looked just as dismayed as Ethan. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. 

“We decided to handle our grief in different ways,” Sophie said, quietly, regretting mentioning it at all. “I - well, I handled my grief. I don’t think my mother has figured hers out, yet.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I imagine she’ll want to see me on Christmas, at least, and I’ll go over. I have a present for her, after all.” She glanced briefly at Ethan. “I heard you plan on going up to Washington.” 

Rosemary’s expression brightened. “Yes,” she said, looking at Andrew, who offered her a thin smile. “We haven’t gotten to see our grandchildren for almost six months, now, and we’re very excited.” She turned her attention to her son. “Ethan hasn’t seen them in almost a year.”

Ethan shrugged one shoulder, toying with what remained of his pasta with his fork. “They weren’t missing much,” he said. “But... I think I’m doing better now. I’ll be fun Uncle Ethan again. At least, more than I was.” 

“Good,” Andrew said, after a moment, during which Rosemary reached over and covered her son’s hand with her own, smiling softly at him. “We’re glad to hear it.”

“I’m glad to be able to say it,” Ethan replied. His eyes found Sophie’s, and she smiled at him, something warm and singular passing between them in that moment. An understanding of something that was theirs, that only they shared. The expression he was sending her way read You’ve been a big help with that, and her returning smile was a gentle, I know, but you’ve helped me too, in response. How many people in the world could share that same moment with someone? Sophie didn’t know, but she imagined a lot of them were… much closer than she and Ethan were. 

Could ever hope to be, even. At least, could ever hope to be on her end. 

Strange how she’d only met him four months before. She supposed grieving together, even for separate people, and building themselves back up a little along the way would lead to such a thing, however. She realized, perhaps a little too late, that the sort of friendship she’d formed with Ethan over the last four months was just as singular as their look had been, just now, partially due to the reason behind the look, partially due to the fact that they simply… melded together, in a way only certain people could. 

Glancing away from him, and looking towards Rosemary, and her knowing, light brown eyes that were mirrored on her son, she thought that Ethan’s mother knew it, too, and perhaps understood it better than Sophie could ever hope to. She wondered if Rosemary Winters wouldn’t mind sharing some of the secrets to this sort of friendship with her, and wondered whether or not she knew how to spot it from experience, or simply because she loved her son. 

Perhaps some combination of both. 

Andrew, it appeared, was less aware of it. Perhaps due to a father thing, perhaps he didn’t have as close a relationship with his son as his wife. Either way, the older male Winters released a quiet groan, stretching his arms up and over his head, which broke the silence that had fallen in the room rather well, and with a lack of grace that was almost comical. 

“Thank you, Sophie,” he said, and offered her that half-grin his son had inherited from him. “The food was delicious.”

Sophie smiled back as, from the corner of her eye, she saw Rosemary withdraw her hand across the table, off of Ethan’s. “You’re welcome,” she responded. “It was my pleasure, really. I’m just happy I got to meet y’all.” 

“It was good to meet you, too,” Rosemary said, and the statement was so genuine that it sent a burst of joy straight through Sophie’s chest as Rosemary reached over to touch her hand instead. “Everything Ethan told me about you was just as true as I’d hoped.” 

Sophie hoped that was genuine, too. 

She left about a half-hour later, saying she needed to get home to prepare for school the following day. It was the last week before break, and she needed to make sure she was ready for the flurry of students who’d run into the library, quoting teachers’ words that promised extra credit for well-written research papers, or students who needed help studying for a specific final or another that required the use of a library computer. 

She shook Andrew’s hand; his grip was calloused and warm, and she thought that any hug he offered to someone had to be even better. There was a gentle twinkle in his eye, as he nodded to her, which worked just as well for Sophie as any words he might have said would. Better, perhaps. 

Rosemary gave her a hug, one that was so strong, and smelled of perfume, and just… so motherly. Sophie felt tears spring to her eyes as she hugged Rosemary back, wondering when the last time she’d received a mother’s hug had been. Long before Kate had died. She’d forgotten how wonderful they could be, the immediate peace they could bring to someone. 

“Thank you,” Rosemary whispered to her, and Sophie, unable to respond verbally less she start bawling, managed a small nod. She imagined Rosemary’s gratitude was based on more than just the meal she’d cooked for them that evening. 

“All right, Mom,” Ethan said, sounding amused. “You’re gonna squeeze her to death.” 

Sophie released a chuckle, and withdrew from the hug, wishing it could have lasted much longer. “Don’t be jealous, Winters,” she accused, to allow herself some levity. “She’ll hug you too, if you want.” 

“I’ll hug him even if he doesn’t want one,” Rosemary stated, smirking up at her son, who sighed. 

“Stop picking on me,” he complained. 

Rosemary looked back at Sophie, and squeezed her hand, then let go. “I hope we get to see you again,” she said, stepping away. 

“I’m sure you will,” Sophie responded. She nudged Ethan with her elbow. “Granted he’s okay with it.”

“Strangely, I think I am,” Ethan said. 

“Well, there we go, then,” Rosemary decided. “Good night, Sophie.” 

“Good night, Rosemary,” Sophie replied, stepping closer to the front door of Ethan’s apartment. “Have a safe trip back to California. And enjoy your trip to Washington.” 

“We will,” Rosemary said, as Ethan opened the door, his hand lightly brushing the small of Sophie’s back. It sent an odd sensation that was reminiscent of being zapped by static electricity from the handle of a shopping cart up her spine, one she struggled to ignore as she waved goodbye to his mother, and then stepped out into the hall. 

Ethan walked with her down the hall to the door that led to the outside stairs. They paused in front of it, and Sophie glanced at him, wondering why they were still standing there, when usually when they reached it, he’d leave her with a missive to drive home safe, and then head back down the hall to his apartment. 

“Afraid to be alone with them?” she asked, amused. “You spent all of yesterday with them, and most of today.” 

“No,” Ethan said. “Just… I don’t want to say goodbye to you, yet, I guess.” 

Sophie couldn’t help but grin at this. “Very sweet,” she said, “but I do need to get going.” 

“I know,” Ethan said. He inhaled a little, and glanced at her. “Sophie -”

Sophie decided, almost at once, that she didn’t want him to say whatever he’d been planning to. In order to stop him, she pushed open the door outside, and stepped through it.

“Good night, Ethan,” she said to him, letting go of the door so that it would swing closed on its own.. 

“Right. Good night,” he responded. It was cut off a bit, because the doors closed quickly, but Sophie got the gist. She blew out a breath, turning to face the stairs. She leaned back against the door, eyes closed. 

“Lord help me,” she said, after a moment of silence, and straightened up again, adjusting the sleeves of her coat, before heading down the stairs. 

Notes:

You’ll have noticed that this now has a set chapter count. It’s locked in, folks. I hope you’re ready.
Also I would love a friend to go grocery shopping with. Can you imagine?

Chapter 6: “Help me put it on?”

Notes:

Hey I fucked up the chapter count and now there's going to be one extra one please forgive me and have this chapter because I feel like it. :)

Chapter Text

Sophie didn’t see much of Ethan the next week, considering how busy she was with school, and that he was working to complete a project he’d been assigned so that he’d actually be able to take the holidays off. They texted back and forth, which was good, but Sophie knew that her replies seemed stale, and for reasons she couldn’t explain to him. It was a combination of the stress of the final week of the semester, of her upcoming visit with her mother, of her repressed attraction to him and her wish for something more than a friendship… a culmination of things had made her a bit short tempered, and anxiety-ridden. She thought it was better that they didn’t see one another in person, because of it. 

On the Friday of that week, the eighteenth of December, as she was helping the folks in the school’s bookstore with the final rush of turned in textbooks that always occurred during the last week of the semester, she felt her cell phone vibrate in her back pocket. She pulled it out, after setting down the three math textbooks she’d been carrying, returned by students who were not committing to another semester of trigonometry. She’d received a text from Ethan. 

Winters [3:41 PM]: Are you still at school?

Me [3:42 PM]: Yeah. Bookstore stuff. What’s up? 

Winters [3:42 PM]: Do you want to do something tomorrow? I fly out to Washington on Sunday. 

Something inside of Sophie’s chest clenched nasty jaws around her heart. She could feel its stilted, slower beats as she considered the question. Did she want to see him tomorrow? Of course. Was it a good idea? Probably not. She thought she might end up expelling all of the stress she’d encountered this week onto him, which wouldn’t be great. Ethan wasn’t extremely empathetic, but she’d come to realize that when her emotions were running strong, however rare that was, he seemed affected by them, just as anyone else would with someone they were close to. She didn’t want to rile him up or depress him or whatever the consequences might have been, before he was set to see his family. 

She blew out a breath, and tapped out a reply, wondering if she could dissuade him without openly saying no.

Me [3:44 PM]: Shouldn’t you spend tomorrow packing? I know you haven’t put a single shirt into a suitcase. 

Winters [3:45 PM]: …

Winters [3:45 PM]: You could help me pack. 

She couldn’t help but smile, even as the jaws around her heart clamped tighter. A third text from him came through. 

Winters [3:46 PM]: I also need to give you your Christmas present. 

Sophie cursed inwardly. A present. She’d told him not to worry about that, even though as she’d said it, she’d been thinking about what she’d already purchased him. 

Me [3:46 PM]: Does it make you happy, doing things I asked you not to do? 

Winters [3:47 PM]: Yeah, sometimes, when it was ridiculous of you to ask me to not do the thing.

At least he was honest. 

Winters [3:47 PM]: So you’re coming over. 

Sophie sighed. 

Me [3:48 PM]: I guess I don’t have a choice. 

Winters [3:48 PM]: Great.

The lack of farewell indicated that their text conversation for the day had not been concluded. She supposed she’d hear from him again, later on. He might send her a picture of his supper, which more often than not was a can of soup dumped into a pot and heated up. She’d usually respond with a photo of her own supper, whatever it ended up being. 

That was just how they did things. 

***

“Okay!” Ethan settled back on the couch next to where Sophie was already sitting. She smiled a little, shifting away from him down the cushions, as he reached out and picked up the wrapped gift that was sitting on the coffee table in front of him. “This is mine?” he clarified, looking at her. 

She nodded. “I had to wrap it fast, because I wasn’t expecting to see you.” She squinted, reaching up with one hand to push her fingers through her hair, embarrassed. “It’s really silly.” 

“Good, silly presents are the best kind,” Ethan said, brightly, and then he leaned up and tugged something from his pocket. It was another present, much smaller, obviously, but beautifully wrapped in green and gold. He held it out to her. “Mine isn’t silly, but it… you might think it is, after you open it.” 

Sophie took it from him. She examined the small box for a moment, admiring the wrapping. It looked to have been done by a professional, something she doubted Ethan was. She had a feeling he was more the type of person to let someone else do his wrapping for him. He didn’t exactly have the patience for it. 

“I also don’t know if you’re going to like it,” he went on. “It - you might - well, you’ll be honest, and I have… I have the receipt, just in case.” He made a face. “Well. I hope you like it. And that you don’t think it’s weird.” 

Sophie chuckled. “You worry too much,” she joked, and then she carefully undid the bow wrapped around the gift, before peeling off the paper. Beneath, once the paper and bow were in her lap, she found what she should have expected: a square-ish box that one might find at a jewelry store, carrying a bracelet or a necklace. She frowned a little, and glanced at him. 

“You got me jewelry?” 

Ethan frowned back. “Is… is that bad?” 

“Depends on how much it was,” Sophie replied. “And where you got it from.” She glanced back down at the box, and then, against her better judgement, opened it. Her breath caught a little, as the light from the lamp on the table next to the couch caught the bracelet inside, making it glitter against its bed of velvet. “Ethan -”

“It’s just because it’s more than a Christmas present,” Ethan said hurriedly. “You - these last few months have been so important for me, and it’s… it’s mostly because of you. So it’s a - it’s a thank you present, too. For… for everything.” 

Sophie blinked at him, and then back down at the bracelet. “It’s gorgeous,” she said at last, “but it’s - Ethan, it’s too much.” 

“No, it - it really isn’t,” he said. “Considering. I - I wouldn’t be anywhere close to where I am right now, if you hadn’t been there for me.” 

“But -”

“Soph.” The nickname forced her to snap her mouth closed. Ethan’s half-smile tugged at her heart. “Really. I don’t… I don’t make this kind of stuff up, and I don’t let myself get overly emotional about anything, but… it’s hard not to, thinking about where I was, and where I’ve gotten. I’ve been able to start healing, for real. And I have you to thank for that, because a lot of it has been because of our friendship.” 

Sophie studied him for a moment, before she let out a quiet laugh. He wasn’t beating around the bush, was he? This was Ethan being completely honest, and it was beautiful, and it made her want to cry, in the best way. She just wished that hearing it didn’t make her wish for more. 

“Help me put it on?” she asked, softly, and Ethan’s smile widened. Sophie smiled as well as she took the bracelet out of the box, and held it out to him, before putting out her left wrist as well. Ethan easily clasped the bracelet around it, and she rotated her arm, appreciating the weight of the bracelet, enjoying how it almost felt right to wear it. 

She glanced up again, and met his eyes, noting how bright his own were. “Thank you,” she said. “Really. It’s beautiful.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice lowered.

From the kitchen, the oven buzzed, announcing it had finished pre-heating, breaking whatever moment had fallen between the two of them. Sophie leaned away from him again, startled, and Ethan laughed. 

“It’s very intense,” he said, hopping up. “Do I just put the tray in there?” 

“Yeah,” she called after him, blowing out a breath. She really needed to get some perspective on everything having to do with the two of them and their relationship. There was no way it could be any more than what it already was. They had to stay friends. Any more, and things might fall apart. She refused to let that happen.

And, really, maybe she needed to be careful about letting them get too much closer. She couldn’t risk letting him establish an even more permanent space in her life, less he decided at some point in the future to move on from her, too, maybe go back to California, and that would be it. She couldn’t let herself get so attached to the point where, if that happened, she’d never be the same. 

Although, she reflected, she might have already been closer to that point than she would have preferred. 

He’s leaving for two weeks, she told herself. That time apart is going to be good. He’ll think about it, realize that he likes being… away, and it’ll be best for the both of us. 

The insistence was there, but Sophie could feel her heart breaking just at the thought. If she hadn’t known before then that she’d already let it go too far, she knew it for sure at that moment, as she looked down at the bracelet Ethan had given her. She’d made a mistake, and she’d need to rectify it. 

***

“You’re quiet.” 

Sophie glanced at her mother. They were sitting together on the couch in the home Sophie had grown up in, cups of coffee in their hands. Her mother hadn’t put up a Christmas tree, which hadn’t surprised Sophie in the slightest. Their opened gifts to one another sat before them on the coffee table. On the TV, A Christmas Story played for the third time that day. 

Anna was watching her, an unexpectant look on her face. Sophie let out a breath, and faced the TV again. 

“Not much to say, I guess.”

“Hm. Doubt that,” Anna said. “You always have something to say.” 

Sophie took a sip of her coffee, and Anna hummed under her breath. 

“How’s school been?” 

“Fine,” Sophie answered. “Same as usual. How’s… the book club?”

“Boring,” Anna said dismissively. “No one has good gossip anymore.” 

“Sorry to hear that.” 

“Are you?” Anna asked. 

“No,” Sophie admitted. “You know I don’t like you getting amusement from other people’s struggles.” 

They exchanged another look, and then grins. Anna chuckled, and Sophie shook her head, smiling down into her coffee. 

“Tell me how things are going,” she said, after a moment. “Really. How are you?” 

Anna sighed. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “I look at pictures, I think about things I should have said, and I don’t… open the door to her bedroom.” She ran her thumb along the rim of her coffee cup. “What else is there for me to do?” 

“You didn’t answer my original question,” Sophie pointed out, gently. 

“I’m fine,” Anna said, and when Sophie lifted an eyebrow, she smiled a bit. “Really. How are you?”  

For a brief moment, it occurred to Sophie that she didn’t have to tell her mother anything. It was clear that Anna Garner was keeping things to herself, and thus she felt as though she had the freedom to do the same. 

But then she thought of her sister, of all the things that Kate had kept to herself, and how that had ended. 

She took a breath. “I made a friend.” 

“Did you?” Anna sounded interested. “When? How?” 

“At the grief counseling group,” Sophie said. “In August. His name is Ethan.” 

Anna’s eyes sparkled. “His name?” she queried, brightly, and Sophie gave her mother a long-suffering look. 

“Don’t start,” she said. “Please. He was grieving for his wife.” 

“Oh.” Anna sank back into the couch. “I see.” She took a drink of her coffee, and then shrugged. “Well, I’m glad to hear you have a friend, at least. Is he nice?”

“Yes,” Sophie said. “And… incredibly smart. He’s a systems engineer.” She smiled again, looking down at her own cup. “I like spending time with him. It’s one of those cases where we can do absolutely nothing for hours, just… be in one another’s company, and it’ll still feel like I had the most fulfilling day possible, when it’s over.” 

She remembered she was talking to her mother, and glanced at her again. Anna was watching her, a gentle smile tugging on the corners of her lips. 

“Oh, Mama,” she said, and rolled her eyes. “Stop lookin’ at me like that.”

“It sounds as though you really like him,” Anna commented. “Which is good. It’s important to… like your friends.” 

“Mama -”

“What? It’s the truth.” Anna leaned forward, setting her mug down on the coffee table, and then rose to her feet. “I bet the cookies are done. Come help me get them out of the oven.” 

She walked off towards the kitchen, and Sophie sighed. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, and she set down her own mug before pulling it out. The text had come from Ethan; he’d messaged her at least twice a day, since he’d flown out to Washington, which had kind of thrown a wrench in her separation plan. She’d be lying if she said that she didn’t enjoy hearing from him everyday, though, which was a problem in-and-of itself. 

Winters [12:31 PM]: I have been awake since six am children are crazy.

Sophie couldn’t help but smile at the idea of Ethan with messed-up hair, being dragged out of bed by his niece and nephew running up and down the halls of their home, cheering that Santa had come. 

Me [12:32 PM]: Merry Christmas to you, too. Are you happy, even if you’re tired?

Winters [12:33 PM]: Definitely. How’s your mom?

Me [12:33 PM]: The same. We made cookies. 

Winters [12:35 PM]: Thrilling. 

Me [12:36 PM]: Oh! And… 

Sophie switched her phone to the camera, and took a picture of the bracelet around her wrist. She smiled as she sent it along. 

Winters [12:38 PM]: Oh, good, you are wearing it. I was worried you wouldn’t. 

Me [12:39 PM]: Please. 

She’d worn the bracelet every day since he’d given it to her. 

Winters [12:40 PM]: I’d send you a picture of my present, but it’s at home. 

She’d given him a clock that had math equations instead of the numbers on it, “Because you’re an engineer.” He’d laughed when he’d unwrapped it. Sophie had replayed that laugh in her head constantly over the last week. 

Me [12:40 PM]: That’s all right. I know you’re using it, cause I saw you hang it. 

Me [12:41 PM]: It sucks in comparison to my bracelet. 

Winters [12:41 PM]: Hey, my clock rocks. 

Winters [12:42 PM]: Okay, I gotta go. I’m being summoned to build the eighteenth snowman this week. 

Me [12:43 PM]: Which cartoon character is this one going to look like? 

Winters [12:43 PM]: I’ll keep you updated. 

Sophie locked her phone, and put it back into her pocket, just in time for her mother to call, “Do you still have selective hearing? I asked you to help me with the cookies.” 

Sophie smiled to herself, and stood. “You told me to help you,” she corrected, heading for the kitchen. “Two different things.”

She joined her mother in the kitchen, and found her in the process of transferring them onto a cooling tray. Sophie leaned her arms on the countertop, breathing outwards. Anna glanced at her. 

“You were texting.”

“I was.” 

“Was it your friend?” 

“Ethan, Mama,” Sophie told her. “And yes, it was.”

Anna hummed. “How much time have you been spending with him?” 

Too much, probably, Sophie thought, but… somehow it still doesn’t feel like enough. She didn’t respond aloud, which was apparently response enough. Anna returned her gaze to the cookies, sliding three at a time off of the tray with her spatula. 

“Does he know?” 

“Know what?” Sophie asked, not wanting to have this conversation. 

“Don’t be coy.” 

“Who’s being coy?” Sophie retorted. Anna huffed, and Sophie glanced away, feeling heat in her cheeks and neck. “This isn’t something I want to talk to you about.” 

“Have you talked to anyone about it?” 

“No,” Sophie said, “because there’s nothing to talk about.” She turned her back to the counter, leaning against it and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s just something I need to figure out.” 

“And how has that worked for you before?” Anna queried.

Sophie blew out a breath. “Mother.”

“Fine,” Anna said, shortly. “You don’t want to talk about it, then don’t, but in that case, at least pretend as though it isn’t taking up the majority of your thinking capacity and try to act as though you’re happy to be spending Christmas with me instead.” The spatula clattered loudly as she must have thrown it into the sink. “The cookies need to cool. Let’s see if we can find a holiday movie that isn’t A Christmas Story to watch while we play King in the Corner.” 

She walked out of the kitchen, leaving Sophie to stand where she was for a moment. She was annoyed, with herself, and with her mother. The whole not talking thing was what had driven a wedge between Anna and her sister, and it would drive a wedge between Sophie and her mother, if she weren’t careful. She’d already been spending too much time apart from Anna; anymore, and who knew what could happen? Once upon a time, both Sophie and Kate had been extremely close with their mother, considering she was a single parent and the only one they had to rely on. She couldn’t let herself forget that. 

So, she inhaled, quietly, and pushed all thoughts of Ethan out of her head, as best as she could, considering he always occupied at least a corner of her mind. That done, she put on a smile, and followed after her mother. Anna wanted to play King in the Corner. Sophie would show her she was much better at the card game, because she’d taken the lessons given to her by her grandfather seriously.

Chapter 7: "Hi. Welcome back."

Chapter Text

The new year arrived. January 2nd, 2016 in Waco began with an overcast, humid, cold day, that had Sophie wishing she hadn’t agreed to pick Ethan up from the airport, even though it was in Dallas, which was a good ninety miles away. Since he hadn’t asked her to take him to said airport, when he’d flown to Washington, she figured it was only fair of her to pick him up on his way back in. She was surprised that he’d stayed for the full two weeks in Washington with his family, but was glad that he had. Although they’d texted frequently, she still stood by her notion that it had been good to spend time apart. It had given her space to think, and she thought she’d made good use of it. 

She waited in the pick-up lane for him, not wanting to get out of the car to go inside the building. She figured he wouldn’t mind; he only had a single piece of luggage with him. It took him about thirty minutes after the plane had landed to emerge from the airport, and Sophie immediately brightened at the sight of him. Even though she’d been appreciative of the time apart, she had missed him. 

He approached her Civic, and Sophie decided she could get out of the car to greet him. He grinned, spotting her, and set down his luggage as she circled the car to reach him. 

“Hey,” he said. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“No problem,” Sophie said. She hesitated a moment, unsure if a hug was called for, feeling a little worried that maybe, during his time in Washington, Ethan had decided that it was better not to interact with one another in that way. 

Ethan, however, apparently had been expecting one, because he looked a bit confused when she didn’t immediately approach him. 

“Was it? A problem?” he asked, and she blinked, then grinned and shook her head. 

“Of course not,” she said, and moved in closer, sliding her arms around his shoulders, rising up on her toes to do so. “Hi. Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Ethan responded, returning the hug. Although Sophie wanted to linger within his arms, especially considering he smelled good, even after his flight, she didn’t let it last long. She offered him a quick squeeze, and then backed away again.

“Come on, it’s fuckin’ cold,” she said, moving around to open the trunk of the Civic. Ethan set his luggage down inside of it, and then walked to the driver’s side door. As Sophie settled into the passenger seat, she smiled a little, watching him hold his hands up to one of the vents. 

“It is cold,” he said, “but Washington was colder.”

“Boohoo,” Sophie said, pulling the door shut. “You hungry?” 

“I could eat,” Ethan replied, putting the car in drive.

“Great. We haven’t been to the diner in a bit. Let’s try their lunch.”

Ethan didn’t argue, and Sophie leaned back in her seat as he pulled away from the curb, and headed for Waco. 

At the time, Sophie had no notion that January 2nd, 2016 would be the day that she and Ethan had their first real argument. 

***

They ate lunch at the diner, and then Ethan drove Sophie’s car to his apartment. She had every intention of leaving it at that, but then recalled the mess of his closet when she’d gone to see him the Saturday before he had left. She couldn’t possibly leave him to get his luggage from his trip put away into a closet that looked like that. 

“I’m coming up,” she told him, as he started to climb out of the Civic. 

He glanced back at her. “You are?”

“I need to clean your closet,” she sighed, getting out of the car as well. “At least, the side of it with your clothes on it. I don’t know how you live with it looking like that, especially with how much nice clothing you wear.” 

Ethan let out a laugh. “I don’t need you to help me clean my closet,” he said, going around to join her at the back of the car, where she’d opened the trunk. He passed her the keys, then retrieved his suitcase, and looked at her. “But if you want to hang out, that’s fine.”

“Ethan, your closet is horrifying,” Sophie informed him, following him towards his apartment building, after locking the Civic. Ethan didn’t respond, and she sighed. “Is there a particular reason you leave it looking that way?” 

There was a moment of silence, as they paused at the foot of the stairs on the outside of the building. Ethan glanced at her. 

“It’s the way it looked when Mia left,” he mumbled, and started up the stairs. 

Sophie remained where she was for a moment, stunned into silence. She really hadn’t expected that to be his answer. She hadn’t expected him to have an answer, which was the whole reason she’d asked the question in the first place. She shook her head to herself, and moved up the stairs after him, not wanting that to be the end of the conversation. 

“Okay,” she said, once she’d caught up with him again. “I get that. But… Ethan, it’s been… it’s almost been a year-and-a-half. It - I mean, I understand you wanting to keep her things, but don’t you think it’s time to clean up? At least?” 

Again, he did not respond, merely opened the door to his apartment and entered through it, not holding it open for her the way he normally would. Sophie frowned to herself, wondering if she needed to be worried. The possibility sparked some anxiety to flare up in her chest, all on its own, and she reached down to fiddle with her ring as she stood in the entryway of his apartment, watching him move around the living room. 

“Maybe I should go,” she said, after a moment. 

“Maybe,” Ethan agreed, his tone even. 

Something other than anxiety ignited within her, and she quickly identified it as anger. 

“What is your problem?” she asked him, crossing her arms.

“What’s yours?” Ethan retorted, glancing at her. 

Silence. Sophie frowned at him. “Why are you upset with me?” she asked. “I was just -”

“Just what?” Ethan asked. “Asking me to get rid of what I have left of my wife?” 

“That isn’t what I was doing, and you know it,” Sophie said, growing defensive. “I was only making a suggestion, that maybe you should clean. I didn’t say anything about getting rid of things.”

Ethan stared at her for a second, before he sighed, and looked away. “I’m just - I feel like you… you try to get involved in everything,” he said, under his breath. “And it’s - sometimes, I don’t need or want you to be involved.” 

“Then just say so!” Sophie exclaimed. “If you want me to leave, tell me! I can’t read your fucking mind!” She blew out a harsh breath, feeling heat in her cheeks. “Why does everyone always think that I can just… tell what they want? I need people to talk to me. When they don’t, they leave, and I can’t - I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t. I can’t.”  

She realized she was panting, realized that she was on the cusp of breaking down completely, and she cradled her head in her trembling hands, turning away from him as she heard him approach. 

“Soph -”

“Don’t,” she whispered, all she could manage between her gasping breaths. 

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked. She could hear his worry, could sense it, even, but the last thing she wanted was for him to see her collapse. 

“Go. I gotta - go,” she wheezed, and turned blindly towards the front door, reaching out with one hand to try and find the doorknob. A hand covered hers, before she could locate it, and she was turned around, her hand finding a new resting place against a steady surface, warm, soft beneath her fingertips. 

“Breathe, Sophie.” Ethan, his voice lowered. “Come on, with me.” 

That other hand - it had to be Ethan’s - kept hers where he’d placed it, which she realized was his chest. She felt his heart beating beneath her palm, felt his chest rising and falling as he breathed, steadily, showing her a pattern that she could follow. She sucked in a sharp breath, which rattled around inside of her, and then eased it out in a soft gasp, in time with him. 

“There you go,” Ethan encouraged. “In and out.” 

They breathed together, Sophie feeling her anxiety seep out of her with each steady breath of his that she eventually managed to mirror with more certainty. Finally, she felt as though she could risk looking up at him, and when she did, she found that his brown eyes were almost gray, dark with his worry for her. 

“Better?” he asked, gently. 

She nodded, once, and Ethan sighed. 

“Okay. Good. Was - was that normal?” 

“Not especially,” Sophie responded, voice barely more than a whisper, still. Her hand was still being held to his chest by his own; she hoped that he wouldn’t let go too soon. “I - anxiety’s kind of… it’s an issue, for me, and it’s gotten worse, since Kate died, but… I haven’t had a panic attack in almost six months.” 

“What causes them?” Ethan queried, and she shook her head. 

“Anything. That wasn’t your fault.” She winced. “Well. Maybe it was a little.”

“Because of what I said?” 

“Sort of,” Sophie said. “It -” She stopped herself, and then shook her head. “Never mind.” 

“No, tell me,” Ethan said. “Please. I don’t - I don’t want to cause something like that again.” 

Sophie offered him a thin smile. “Well, unfortunately,” she started, “my anxiety is usually pretty centered around the people I care about, and… how they’re doing, how they’re responding to me.”

“So since I’m one of those people -”

“Yeah,” Sophie responded. “Sorry.” 

Ethan smiled his half-smile. “I don’t think that’s something you need to apologize for,” he said. “I’m sorry , for saying what I did.” His smile faded a little, replaced once more by concern. “But… I need you to tell me why it… set you off like that, so I know how I can try to avoid doing it again.” 

Sophie shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “You couldn’t have known.” 

“Known what?” he prodded, quietly. 

“Ethan -“

“Please.” 

Sophie closed her eyes. She could tell him. It wasn’t fair to keep it from him, not when he’d told her so much about Mia, and what had been going on between the two of them before she’d disappeared. 

“Can we sit?” she asked, and Ethan nodded. He kept his hand on hers, but lowered it from his chest, and used it to guide her from the entryway into the living room, where they sat down together on the couch. 

“Take your time,” Ethan said, after a moment of silence had passed. “Really.” 

She gazed down at her lap for a moment, wondering where to begin. 

“Like I said, I’ve always had anxiety,” she said at last. “It’s hereditary. My father had it, too.” She paused. “I guess… suicidal tendencies must be hereditary as well, ‘cause he also had those.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said. “You’ve never mentioned him.”

“That’s ‘cause I never really knew him,” she said. “He killed himself a few months after Kate was born. I was only four.” She inhaled, slowly, letting her eyes close with it. “I - my anxiety’s based on… how other people perceive me, mostly. It’s a - I guess it’s something about abandonment issues I have, because of my dad. That’s what the therapist I used to see told me, anyway.”

“So… you try to… be the best you can be, towards the people you care about, because you’re worried they’ll leave you,” Ethan said, thoughtfully, and Sophie nodded. His brows drew together in sympathy. “I get why it got worse after Kate died, then, I think.” 

“Yeah.” Sophie breathed outwards this time; it was a bit shaky. “It - a couple months before she killed herself, she… she got to be really closed off, which was weird for her and me. She was always closed off with our mom, but with me… well, I was kind of the only one she had, so I tried to show her that she could always talk to me. About anything.” 

“Oh.” Ethan looked distressed, and Sophie nodded, once. 

“I - well. I tried to talk to her. She wouldn’t give me anything. It felt like she expected me to know. And maybe, in hindsight, I did know, but I just… I never made the connections I needed to in order to do anything with it.” She glanced at him. “So, when you… y’know. Didn’t actually tell me what you wanted, it kind of reminded me of that. My anxiety-ridden brain jumped to conclusions. Panic attack. You were there, you get it.” 

“Yeah.” Ethan reached for her hand again. Sophie let him take it. “I’m sorry, Soph. I had no idea.”

“You had no reason to know,” Sophie responded. “I let it get the better of me. I shouldn’t do that.” 

“Maybe not,” Ethan said. “Maybe you need to be better about knowing when certain things are irrational.” Sophie winced, glancing away from him. “I don’t mean that in a critical way, Sophie.”

“But that’s what it sounds like,” she murmured.

“I know,” Ethan said. “But for your sake, it needs to be said. Your sanity depends on how well you’re able to do that, control your anxiety. The people around you can only help so much, by watching what they say, and how they act, which people aren’t great at doing, normally.” He squeezed her hand, gently. “The rest is up to you. If you need us to talk to you, then we need you to talk to us. Tell us when you’re starting to worry.” He let go of her hand. “Otherwise, we won’t know, and things will be worse than they need to be.” 

Sophie frowned at him. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning you’ll end up pushing us away, instead of the other way around.” 

“Is - oh.” She glanced down at her lap. “Ethan, I wasn’t -”

“I know,” he replied. “But… it might have gotten there eventually, right?” 

She sighed. “I was wondering if we were texting too much.”

“A few minutes a day?” Ethan huffed out a laugh. “I wouldn’t say that that’s too much.” 

Sophie begged to differ. When Kate had killed herself, Sophie had been texting her almost once every hour, trying to get her to talk to her. Her sister’s final response had read: I’m fine. Stop texting me. 

So Sophie had. And she regretted it, would regret it, forever. 

She decided that she needed to give Ethan time alone. 

“I’m gonna go,” she said. “You need to unpack, relax, readjust. It’s -” She struggled to find something more to say, and came up short. “Yeah.” 

She rose, and turned to head back to the entryway to leave the apartment. Before she could get more than five steps away from the couch, Ethan was grasping her hand again, and pulling her to a halt. 

“Sophie.” She didn’t want to, but all the same she glanced back at him. Ethan met her eyes. For a moment, it seemed as though he was going to say just the thing she’d expected him to. Instead, he surprised her: “Stay. Keep me company while I unpack.” 

She made a face. “Is this a pity invitation?” 

Ethan smiled. “No,” he said. “I want you to stay.” He gestured towards his suitcase. “I’ll never actually unpack if no one’s here to notice whether or not I do.” 

Sophie studied his expression for a moment. There was no way he was being honest with her. Somewhere, hidden behind that smile, was whatever he really wanted to say to her, something that would indicate she was getting too close, and that she needed to back off, leave him alone. 

Or maybe it would be neither of those things, just something vague that implied she needed to know what he wanted, without him having to tell her. 

But, no, here he was, literally asking her to stay, because he wanted her to. There had to be some missing component to this equation that she wasn’t seeing, one that would lead to this all blowing up in her face, a few weeks from now, if not a few days. It was how it always happened: usually, it was her own fault, because of her anxiety, but this time… 

“Sophie.” She refocused on his eyes, and saw they were just as genuine as they had been throughout the entire conversation. “You’re thinking too hard about it. I’m asking you to stay, because I want you to, and, arguably, I need you to, for the sake of getting something done. You’re allowed to say no.” 

Maybe it would be better if she did. It had been two weeks since she’d seen him in person, but maybe it’d be better in the long run if she did go, let him have some time alone in his space. Maybe by asking her to stay, it was a test, to see if she knew what was best for their continued friendship. 

But maybe Ethan was right, and she was thinking too hard. 

She settled on a compromise.

“I’ll stay,” she said. “But only for however long it takes for you to unpack.” 

“Great,” Ethan said, and let go of her hand. She watched as he settled back down on the couch, and started to reach for the remote. “I’ll do that in a minute.”

“Winters.” He glanced at her, and she crossed her arms. “Unpack your suitcase. You’re just going to want to do it less, the more time that passes.” 

She watched as his smile returned, and he replaced the remote on the coffee table. 

“Fair enough,” he said, and stood up again, retrieving his suitcase from where he’d placed it. “See? This is what I meant. Three hours from now, without you, I’d still be sitting on the couch, watching TV, and my suitcase would still be packed.” 

He walked past her, heading for his bedroom, and Sophie glanced down at the floor, smiling a little to herself. They’d reached a peace. Perhaps a fragile one, if the way she still felt in the pit of her stomach was any indication, but a peace all the same. She’d talked to him about the thing she hated most about herself, and he hadn’t disregarded her. In fact, he’d asked her to say. 

Maybe she’d be able to, for longer than she’d thought less than three minutes ago. 

“Oh, no,” she heard Ethan say from his bedroom. “There’s a laptop in here, just waiting to distract me! If only I had someone here to convince me to leave it alone, and to get the rest of my things unpacked!” 

Sophie let out a quiet laugh, and turned to follow him, since it appeared he was a giant child who needed his hand held the entire length of a simple task. 

Or, maybe, he’d just wanted to reassure himself that she’d actually follow him, without being too obvious about it.

Chapter 8: "Did you move things around?"

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

January passed, and became February. 

Things were relatively unchanged, despite the argument turned conversation that Sophie and Ethan had shared. They’d get supper together at least once a week, and Sophie convinced Ethan to join her at kickboxing twice. Both times, he declared that he wasn’t built for it, but she’d merely smile and wonder when she should ask him to come with her the next time. 

Meanwhile, she pretended not to be worried that at any point, he was going to choose not to see her anymore. Every time she got a text from him, or he called asking if she wanted to hang out, she’d wonder if it was going to be the last time. She needed to mention it to him, but found herself unwilling, or unable to. If she brought it up too often, Ethan would wonder if she wanted him to drop her, which was the last thing she wanted. She loved spending time with him. 

Which was how she found herself with him at the bar they usually went to on hockey nights, watching a Sharks and Panthers game, one evening in February. Sophie had made the mistake of ordering a fruity drink, and she took one sip of it before making a face and deciding it sucked. 

“Ew.” Sophie held the drink out towards Ethan. “Try this.” 

He frowned. “Why would I try a drink you just said ‘ew’ about?” he asked. 

“Because I want you to,” Sophie said. “You might like it. You know I hate fruity stuff, but you don’t mind it.” 

Ethan sighed, but took the drink. He sipped at it, and then shrugged, setting it down. “It’s not bad.”

“See, I knew it,” Sophie said, her eyes drifting towards the TV on the wall behind him. She punched the air as the Sharks goal counter ticked up by one. “Yes!”

Ethan took another sip of the drink. “Why do we come here?” he asked. 

“Hm?” Sophie glanced at him, briefly, before turning her gaze to the TV. She wanted to see the replay of that goal. “Dunno. It’s fun?”

“Is it?” Ethan waved a hand. “It’s a bunch of strangers yelling about eighteen different games that are playing on thirty different TVs. It’s loud, and it kind of stinks.” 

Sophie drew her brows together, and moved her eyes to meet his. Or, at least, she tried to. Ethan was looking down at the drink she’d given him. He’d been acting a bit closed-off the entire evening, but this was the first time he was really showing how bad a mood he was apparently in.

“Ethan?” she prompted, hoping with all her heart that it wasn’t because of her. “What’s going on?” 

She watched as his shoulders rose and fell, and decided that maybe it was time for them to go. She placed a twenty on the counter of the bar, under the partially-drank fruity beverage, and then took his sleeve in her hand. 

“Come on,” she said, and tugged him after her away from the bar, then out of the building entirely. 

They’d walked, since the bar wasn’t too far from his apartment. Sophie decided that starting the walk back was better than having a conversation in the middle of the sidewalk outside. She let go of his hand, and did just that, heading back towards his apartment building. Ethan followed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

They went along in silence for about a block, before they had to pause at a traffic light. Sophie pushed the button that would allow them to cross, eventually, and glanced up at him. Sometimes, she knew, he could do this: retreat into a silence that was so stony and complete that she was afraid to say anything. He’d never truly blown up at her, but by now she knew that his temper, when tested by a specific mixture of frustrating and inconvenient things, could be nasty. She worried that anything she said might set it aflame. 

The light changed, and they were able to cross the street to the other side, and kept going. Ethan continued to walk along with his head bowed a little, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched. Sophie wondered what it was he could be thinking about. 

They reached his apartment after another five minutes, and Sophie decided that she probably didn’t want to hang around. It was clear Ethan didn’t want to talk about it, not then, but he would when he was ready. She knew this about him, now, too. 

They lingered on the sidewalk outside of the apartment complex’s office. Sophie wasn’t sure whether to say goodbye, or to ask him a question, or if he even wanted her to say anything at all. 

“Sorry,” Ethan mumbled, before she could make up her mind. 

“Stop,” she said at once. “Ethan, you don’t need to apologize for… for having moments like this.” 

He shook his head. “It isn’t - I couldn’t even say where it came from.”

“That’s okay,” Sophie assured. “Really.” She offered him a small smile. “When you’re ready to talk, let me know, but I - I think you probably want to be alone for right now, yeah?” 

Ethan started to nod, but the movement quickly turned into a head shake instead. That was troublesome. Sophie did her best not to let her immediate concern show as she said, “Okay, never mind, then.” She gestured in the direction of his apartment, located in one of the buildings on the plot behind the office. “But let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.”

Ethan nodded, and led the way to his building. They hiked the outside stairs, and Sophie waited behind him as he unlocked the outside door. He then led the way down the hall to his apartment, unlocking that door as well. 

When Sophie stepped inside, she sensed immediately that something was off. She frowned to herself, glancing around the small entryway, and then followed Ethan into the living room. She looked around, wondering what had changed within the space, and recognized after a moment that it seemed… emptier.

“Did you move things around?” she asked him, after a moment, and saw Ethan’s shoulders tense. She regretted saying it at once. “Sorry, sorry, you don’t need to tell me. I just feel like it's different in here.”

Ethan closed his eyes, and bowed his head again, sinking down onto the couch. He brought his hands up to his eyes, and rubbed at them. “I got rid of some of Mia’s things,” he murmured, voice muffled. 

Oh. 

Sophie slid her arms around her midsection, feeling very awkward. “You didn’t mention anything.”

Ethan shook his head. “I thought it’d be easier, if I didn’t tell anyone,” he admitted, quietly. “It’s been a year-and-a-half, and… at the last meeting I went to, Ross asked if I still had anything of hers, and I realized I had… everything, of hers, and that it was… I realized how suffocating it was. After thinking about what you said, about the closet.”

Sophie looked away from him, glancing towards the wall where, once, a picture of Mia with a group of friends had hung. Ethan had mentioned that she didn’t have much family, and so she hung pictures of friends instead. The picture no longer hung on the wall, the space where it had been blank and looking a little out of place, considering the other pictures that were around it, pictures of Ethan with family, pictures of Ethan and Mia, but… nothing of only Mia.

Anxiety began to stir in Sophie’s belly. Why hadn’t he said anything? Did he not trust her enough with helping him? Why wouldn’t he? What had she done to convince him not to ask? 

She glanced back at Ethan. “I wish you would’ve asked for help,” she said, quietly, and moved to sit next to him on the couch. “I would have.”

“I know,” Ethan said, hands still against his face. “But it - it was just… a full day of me throwing shit away, crying, yelling, breaking stuff on accident. And on purpose. I didn’t want anyone to see that.” He lowered his hands just a little, so that he could turn his head and look at her. “I didn’t want you to see that.” 

Her anxiety eased. It hadn’t been her at all. It was simply him, wanting to spare her from his sadness. 

“Ethan,” she murmured, and slid an arm around his shoulders, tucking his head beneath her chin. He tilted into her rather easily, and she ran a hand up and down the length of his back, staring at the blank spot on the wall and wondering what his closest must look like, emptied of Mia’s clothes, wondering how much bigger it seemed, while probably feeling incredibly small at the same time. 

“I kept it all,” he whispered. “Like I was - I was hoping that since all of her things were here, she’d have to come back. Even if she decided she didn’t want to be here anymore, she’d still need to come back, to get her stuff, first. I was - I just wanted that, wanted her to come back to get her things. But she never did, Sophie.” 

His voice broke, her name twisting with it, and for the first time since she’d met him, she heard Ethan Winters break down in tears. Each of his sobs felt like a gunshot searing through her, and she held him tighter, wanting to press any strength she had to give into him instead, wanting him to feel how much she cared for him, and was willing to be there for him, in anything, even this.

Recalling something her grandfather had used to do for her, when she’d have fits of crying as a child, she reached up to cup the back of his neck instead, squeezing it gently in a rhythm that helped to ease tension. She felt it working, felt him relaxing in her arms, even as he continued to cry, and she thought that was okay, it was obvious he needed to cry. She could feel the front of her jacket getting wet, residue from his tears and probably some snot, too, but that was okay. If she would have chosen who she’d let cry on her, it would have been Ethan, although… she wished with all her heart that he didn’t have anything to cry about. She never wanted to see this happen to him again. 

After several minutes, it seemed that it had all seeped out of him, in the form of tears. Ethan stopped crying, the sounds that came with it disappearing into sniffles instead, but he didn’t move away from her, and she didn’t try to make him, left her one arm where it was around him, and her other hand against his neck, continuing to squeeze in that soft rhythm, her thumb brushing against the hair that grew there. 

“Sorry,” she heard him say, and she sighed. 

“Please, don’t be.” 

Ethan sat up, and she let him, watching as he used the sleeve of his own jacket to wipe at his face. 

“I thought I’d dealt with all that yesterday,” he admitted, voice hoarse. “I guess not.” 

“It’s fine,” Sophie assured, not looking down at her torso to see just how much of a mess she was. “Do you want to talk about it at all?”

He shook his head. “Not much to say. I realized it’s been eighteen months, and that I’d kept all my wife’s stuff, even though there was no chance she was coming back to get it all, and knowing where we were when she left, she probably wouldn’t have, if she could.” He closed his eyes, brows coming together in a grimace. “So I dealt with it the way I probably should have a long time ago.” 

“Not the sort of thing to tell yourself, pal,” Sophie said, and he let out a quiet, brief chuckle. 

“I guess you’re right.” His eyes opened again, tinged with red, the same as his nose. He glanced at her, and laughed again, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “You can stop looking at me like you’re worried I’m gonna break down again. I won’t.” 

Sophie managed a smile. “I’m just worried about you,” she said, reaching over to squeeze his knee. “You can talk to me, you know. About anything.” 

“I do know,” Ethan replied. He slid his hand into hers, folding his fingers over the gaps between hers. It was an intimate way of holding hands, one that they’d never done before. Sophie fought down the emotions it triggered with her, ones she’d been able to put at the back of her mind over the last two months. 

“Good,” she said, softly. 

Ethan nodded, looking down at their joined hands as he did so. After a moment, he withdrew, and Sophie was able to breathe again. 

“Do you want to finish watching the game?” he asked, reaching for the remote to his TV. “I’m sorry I dragged you away from it.” 

“I’m the one who pulled you out of the bar,” she pointed out, leaning back against the couch cushions. “But, yeah, I’d appreciate it.” 

“Okay.” Ethan clicked the TV on, and flipped through the channels, until he found the Sharks game. After a moment, he grinned. “It’s gonna go to overtime.”

“Extra hockey! Extra hockey!” Sophie bounced a little on the couch cushion. Ethan chuckled, and she grinned over at him. “Popcorn, please, Winters.” 

“You’re bossing me around my own home? And after I just had a breakdown?” She lifted her eyebrows, and Ethan sighed, but stood up from the couch all the same. “Never mind. Of course you are.” 

She watched him head into the kitchen, reconsidered, and called, “Do you want help?” 

“Microwaving popcorn?” A pause. “I think I can handle it.” 

He was in the kitchen for about five minutes. When he returned, it was with a plastic bowlful of popcorn, as well as a pair of water bottles. These he set down on the coffee table as he settled back on the couch again, resting the bowl between the two of them. 

“Thank you,” Sophie said, and he hummed quietly in response. She looked at him, as she reached for a handful of popcorn. “Ethan?” 

“Hm?”

“Are you sure you're all right?” she asked him. “I’m not trying to be… invasive, or anything, but I just… I want to make sure you’re okay.” 

Ethan offered her his half-smile. “I’m fine,” he said. “Really.” He picked up a few pieces of popcorn for himself, and tossed one into the air, tilting his head back to catch it in his mouth, which he did. He then looked at her again, brown eyes glittering. “Can a depressed person do that?” 

“Very impressive,” Sophie said, “but I’m being serious.” 

“I know you are,” he answered. “So am I.” 

And that, Sophie supposed, was probably as good as it was going to get. There were simply some things that a person couldn’t talk about with someone else, internal things that needed to be parsed through by an individual first, before they could be shared with another. Sophie trusted that, when Ethan had finished with that first step, he’d be open to talking to her about it all. 

She just wondered how long that would take.

Notes:

god i want to give ethan winters a hug so bad.

Chapter 9: "Ethan, I don't know if I can do this."

Notes:

I realized that I have less than a month before I start working, which means I need to get chapters posted sooner rather than later. Expect more than one a week from now on, the standard on Tuesday, and then others throughout each week whenever I get an itch.

Chapter Text

It was a bit difficult for Sophie to handle the fact that both Ethan’s birthday and the anniversary of Kate’s suicide lived together in March. Ethan’s birthday was the sixteenth, a full ten days before the anniversary of her sister’s death, which meant she had almost two weeks between celebrating with him to prepare for mourning and remembering with her mother. 

She realized, the morning of the twenty-sixth, that ten days hadn’t been enough. 

She gripped the edge of the counter in her apartment’s bathroom, prepared to dart sideways over to the toilet, just in case she needed to throw up. Her head hung heavily over the bowl of the sink, and she was afraid to lift her gaze and see herself in the mirror, not wanting to reflect on the dark bags that had formed beneath her eyes over the last ten days, due to a severe lack of sleep that she hadn’t been able to avoid. She knew she looked terrible , had probably looked bad even on Ethan’s birthday (which honestly explained the looks he’d been giving her, during his party, which she’d been invited to despite the fact that it was with coworkers of his that she’d only met once before, when she’d picked him up from work to drive him home while his car had been at the mechanics for some reason). 

It had been a good day, the sixteenth; she hadn’t been able to forget about her sister and why she had a day to dread near the tail-end of March, but she had been able to focus on something else, for a period of six or so hours, and that had been nice. 

Now, though, there was no focusing on anything else. Today was the day, and she needed to get moving. She was supposed to meet her mother at the graveyard in an hour. 

Certain enough that she wasn’t actually going to vomit, although her stomach clenched and unclenched with the threat of it, still, Sophie finished with her bathroom visit and then returned to her bedroom to get dressed. It was still fairly cold out, and a wind was blowing, so she pulled on a plain black sweater. She thought it suited her mood, and the occasion, pretty well. 

As she was sinking down onto her couch, to do nothing but sit and think, her phone vibrated on the edge of the coffee table. She reached for it, half-expecting it to be a text from her mother. Instead, she saw it was from Ethan. 

Winters [10:21 AM]: You okay? 

She almost didn’t respond, at least not with the truth. She didn’t want to get into it, not over text, and especially not when she only had about an hour before she met her mother at the cemetery. She’d been doing her best, though, not to lie about things like that, when they could possibly affect the way they interacted with one another. She sighed and typed out an honest reply. 

Me [10:22 AM]: Not really, but I didn’t expect to be. I meet my mom at 11:00. 

He didn’t respond immediately, and she was halfway to setting her phone back down when it started to vibrate in her hands with an incoming phone call. She blinked down at Ethan’s contact picture, still the one she’d taken that evening of her final group grief counseling meeting, and answered the phone. 

“Why -?”

“I don’t know. I thought it might be better for you to talk to me, instead of text,” Ethan replied, and she let out a breath, because of course he’d known that. “What’s going on?” 

Sophie sighed, putting the phone on speaker so that she could set it down on the arm of the couch instead of holding it. She fiddled with her ring. “I don’t know,” she said, quietly. “I haven’t been sleeping very good, and it - it’s like a cloud of dread has just gotten thicker and thicker around me, and in my head, as today’s gotten closer. Maybe dread isn’t the right word for it.” 

“It might be,” Ethan said. “Just… the dread of having to accept that it’s been a whole year. Dreading… I don’t know, visiting her grave and seeing it and knowing that that’s where she is.” 

“Instead of teaching, still. Instead of going out dancing on Friday nights with her friends, and spending Sundays inside, reading five books at once.” Sophie closed her eyes, tears trickling from the corners and making their way down her cheeks. “Ethan, I don’t know if I can do this.” 

“You can,” Ethan said, gently. “It’s been a year. Today is different from the other three-hundred sixty-four, because it’s literally a year out from when it happened, but… the way you feel today is just amplified from the way you’ve felt since it happened. That’s why it seems so much harder.”

Sophie inhaled, breath catching a little, and wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. He was right, she knew, but it didn’t really help her feel any better. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to, only meant to give her the courage to face the day, knowing that she would handle it the way she’d handled every other day, just dealing with charged emotions, too. 

She opened her eyes again. “Okay,” she said, quietly. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Ethan replied, sounding as though he wished there was more for him to do. Sophie appreciated that. 

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, tugging at the already-raw skin there, from almost two weeks of constant stress. Was it fair of her to ask him, what he’d done on the year mark since the last time he’d seen Mia? She didn’t think so, didn’t think his own experience was easily compared to hers. She’d lost her sister for good; Ethan had had no idea that he’d lost his wife. 

Still, her curiosity was a little too strong for her not to ask, considering the topic at hand. 

“What did you do? On… on August 4th, last year?” 

Ethan did not respond for a moment, and she worried that asking had been the wrong choice after all. She elected to blame it on weakened understanding of what was appropriate, considering lack of sleep, in case he got angry. She didn’t think he would, but he’d do that thing where he retreated into himself. That would be bad enough, she thought. 

“That’s - you know, I’m not super sure,” Ethan said at last, and she frowned at her cell phone. “It - I mean, most of that first year, I still thought she’d just gone missing, so it - I never really took any time to grieve the same way you did, this year.” He paused again, and the silence was thoughtful, rather than sad, although there were tinges of sadness around the edges. “Yeah. I - I might have gone to work, maybe? Talked on the phone to the detective in charge of the investigation into her disappearance? Maybe a couple of the guys took me out to the bar, knowing, even if I didn’t, that it had been a year. I’m not sure.” 

And that, Sophie decided, was worse than what she was dealing with. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, softly. 

She heard Ethan let out a quiet sound that was somewhere between a dismissive sigh and a thoughtful hum. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Like I said, I wasn’t aware that it had been a year, at that point.” 

“Do you… do you wish you had known?” 

“No,” Ethan said. “I don’t think it would have changed anything.” 

Sophie supposed that was probably true. 

“I’ll let you go, since you need to meet your mom,” Ethan said, “but… if you need to talk at all today, just call me. All right? Don’t - don’t worry if I’m busy or anything. Just call.” 

Sophie wondered if he understood how much the offer meant to her. She imagined he must have had some idea. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Ethan?”

“Hm?” 

She hesitated a moment, and then said, “How are you?”

She heard his smile in his reply: “I’m good, Soph. Thanks. Talk to you soon?” 

“Yeah,” she said, and then, with more strength: “Yes. Definitely.”

“Okay. Try to have a good day, all right? Don’t… don’t think so much about… about what happened. Just think about Kate, who she was, why… why the life that she did have was wonderful.” 

“Okay,” Sophie echoed, wondering if she could convince her mother to do the same. “Thanks again, Winters.” 

“Sure,” he said. “Bye, Soph.”

“Bye.” 

She listened as the call ended, signifying itself with three beeps from her phone, and then she blew out a breath, and let her eyes fall closed again, re-centering herself. Think about Kate, who she was, why the life that had was wonderful. 

That… that sounded good to her. Better than the alternative, anyway. 

***

It turned out her mother was more willing to discuss everything about Kate aside from the fact that she’d committed suicide than Sophie had thought she’d be. She arrived at the sight of her sister’s grave after Anna had, and found her mother standing beside it, head bent, eyes closed. Anna prayed, Sophie knew, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen her mother pray for her sister, insistent that suicide was a sin and that there was no chance for her soul. For a moment, Sophie wondered what had changed, but then realized that Anna probably wasn’t praying at all, and was merely thinking. 

She joined her mother, stepping up beside her. She looked down at the gray marble headstone that had Kate’s name and birth and death dates carved into it. 

Little sister, I hope you’re all right, wherever you are, she thought, silently, and then bent down to place the bouquet of flowers she’d purchased on her way to the cemetery. 

She then glanced at her mother. Anna was watching her. 

“How long have you been here?” Sophie asked, straightening up again. 

“A while,” Anna replied, after a moment. “I know we were going to meet at 11:30, but I wanted… I wanted time alone with her.” She tilted her head towards the grave. “Not that she’s here. I hope not, at least.” 

Sophie hummed. “Ethan said we shouldn’t talk about that sort of thing, today,” she said. “We should talk about Kate and who she was instead.”

“Is that what he did, when a year passed after his wife died?” Anna queried. 

“No,” Sophie said, “but I think he would have, if he’d known it had been a year.” 

Thankfully, Anna did not ask for more of an explanation than that. 

Instead, she said, “Sounds as though he knows what he’s talking about.” Sophie shrugged a little, and her mother hummed. “All right, then.” She looked down at Kate’s grave for a moment longer, and then turned away from it. “There’s a bench nearby. Let’s sit there. It’s cold here in the shade.”

Sophie followed her to said bench, and they sat together just as the cloud layer above broke open, and allowed some late morning sunlight to shine down onto the cemetery. Sophie couldn’t help but turn her face upwards, towards the warmth of it. Everything had felt so cold and gloomy, lately. 

“Do you remember when you were nine, and Kate was five, and we went to Disneyland?” Anna asked, after a bit. 

Sophie opened her eyes, and looked at her mother. “Vaguely,” she said. “We took Gran and Gramp with us.” 

“Well, they really took us with them,” Anna corrected. “They paid for most of the trip.” She sighed. “You were tall enough to ride pretty much everything. Kate wasn’t. Every time we’d get up to the front of the line, you’d walk up to whoever was running it and you’d say to them, “Let my sister on, please,” even if you knew she wasn’t tall enough. Obviously, it never worked, but you were so persistent, every time, and Kate loved you for that, I know she did.” 

Sophie felt her heart beating in her throat as she watched her mother watch the leaves on the tree over Kate’s grave sway in the wind. 

“She wanted to be like you,” Anna went on. “With everything you did, everything you tried to do, Kate wanted to try it, too. Drama Club, choir, volleyball, all of it.”

“I’d completely forgotten about volleyball,” Sophie said, under her breath, and winced as the memories flooded in. “Yikes. I was awful, wasn’t I?” 

Anna smiled a little. “Sometimes, Kate was better than you were at things you tried first,” she agreed, and Sophie smiled as well. 

“She convinced me to try kickboxing,” she said. “I wasn’t sure I’d be very good. Obviously, I’m not the most hand-eye coordinated. But she told me that I had to keep fit somehow, and I might as well learn to defend myself in some way that wasn’t shooting a gun.” She glanced down at her ring. “I’m glad I listened to her.” 

“Me too,” Anna said. “You could knock a man unconscious before he even knew what he wanted to do to you, and I appreciate that quite a lot, considering how many psychopaths are out there.” 

Sophie chuckled. “Yep. I still have training to go to this afternoon. Figured I’d knock a man on his ass for her, today.”

“She’d appreciate that,” Anna commented, after a moment. 

They lapsed into silence after that. Sophie wasn’t sure where her mother’s head was, but her own was with her sister, and she smiled to herself as she considered what Kate might think of Ethan. She thought she’d like him a lot, like his down-to-earth, no nonsense way of living. They were a bit alike in that. 

She wished they could have met, but then realized that, if Kate hadn’t died, Sophie probably wouldn’t have met Ethan. The realization hit her the same way she imagined a bus would, suddenly and remorselessly. The fairly good mood she’d fallen into disappeared in the same moment. 

Anna must have sensed it, because she glanced at her again. “What?” she asked. 

Sophie inhaled. “Nothing,” she responded. 

“You were thinking of your boy, weren’t you? About how Kate led you to him, in a way.” 

Sophie scoffed, softly. “He’s not my boy,” she said. “For one thing, he’s a grown man. For another, we’re just friends.”

“You’d like to be more.”

“That’s not really an option.”

“Everything’s an option with enough time.”

“Well, there hasn’t been.” Sophie said, firmly. “Enough time, I mean. And I doubt there ever will be.” 

Anna left it alone at that, and Sophie forced her shoulders to relax a little. As best she could make them, anyway. 

“She would’ve wanted you to be happy,” her mother said. 

“I know,” Sophie answered, quietly. “And I am. With how things are.”

“But how long will that last?” 

Sophie didn’t have a response for that, and so she didn’t give one. 

Anna sighed, after a moment. “Well, I leave it to you,” she said, “because it is your business, and despite what you might think, I know that part of the reason Kate… did what she did was because I was always trying to get into hers, and she thought I might find out something I didn’t want to.” She leaned back against the bench. “So, instead of doing that with you, I’ll let you keep whatever you like to yourself, trusting that you’ll talk to me when you’re ready.” 

Sophie realized that may have been the most mature thing her mother had ever said, or decided to do. She looked sideways at Anna Garner, wondering where the change had come from, but deciding not to risk it by asking. 

“Thank you, Mama,” she said instead, and Anna nodded. 

“If nothing else,” she said, “I’d like for the two of us to have a better relationship than we did, before what happened.” She reached over and took Sophie’s hand. Sophie let her. “I’m sorry we have not been able to do that before now. I understand that is mostly due to faults of my own, and I apologize for those, too.” 

She looked at Sophie, and Sophie looked backed, surprised to see there were tears in her mother’s eyes. “You are all I have left in this world,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lose you too, because I was too stubborn to realize that the way I feel about certain things does not allow me to properly care for my daughters. I let that happen between myself and Kate. I won’t let it happen between us.” 

Sophie gazed at her mother for a moment, and realized that, for the first time in a long time, her mother was baring her heart and soul to her, and that she meant every single word that she said. 

She squeezed her hand. “I forgive you,” she said, gently. “And I think Kate would, too.” She smiled a little. “She was better at letting go of grudges than I ever was.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Anna murmured, and they both turned to look once more at the tree that Kate lay buried beneath. 

***

“Right! Left! Left! Right! Left!”

Sophie ducked just in time to avoid a punch that came in on her right instead of her left, and lashed out with her own right fist in retaliation, landing a successful strike against her instructor’s shoulder. Marcus staggered a bit, from the force of it, and then straightened up. Sophie blew out a breath. 

“You said left.”

“And you knew I was lying,” Marcus responded, rubbing his shoulder. “Good.” Sophie smiled a bit, and he gestured towards the table off to one side of the training area. “Let’s take a break.”

“We only have fifteen minutes left,” Sophie argued. 

“And five of those are going to be spent taking a break,” Marcus told her. “Come on.” 

Sophie sighed, but all the same followed him over to the table. She picked up her water bottle, and took a drink from it, watching as he wiped down the back of his neck with a towel. 

“You’re kind of quiet today,” he said. “Is it -?”

“Yeah,” she replied, and took another drink of water. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and she shook her head. 

“It’s all right.” She closed the bottle, setting it back down on the table. “You know that Kate convinced me to start kickboxing.”

“You’ve mentioned that,” Marcus agreed. 

Sophie shrugged. “Which is why I didn’t cancel our training today.” 

Marcus smiled a bit. “Fair enough.” He took a drink of water himself, and then headed back to the center of the training area. Sophie followed him. 

They spent the remaining ten minutes of her hour-long training sparring. Sophie successfully knocked him down with a chest kick, something she’d been practicing with him over the last few months, which was gratifying. When the hour was up, Marcus seemed pleased. 

“You’re doing well,” he said. “Have you been doing workouts at home?” 

“Yep. When I find time to fit them in, anyway.” Sophie tugged off her gloves, handing them over. “I’m still trying to convince my friend to come with me for scheduled sessions.”

“That Ethan guy?” Marcus asked, and she nodded. “Oh. Thought he was your boyfriend.”

Sophie managed a laugh. “No. Just friends.” She blew out a breath, picking up her water bottle. “I’ll see you, Marcus. Thanks.” 

“Thank you,” he returned, and she headed out of the room, into the main area of the gym. It wasn’t incredibly crowded, considering it was almost suppertime, but there were a few people around, using the various machines. Most of them had headphones on, Sophie saw, which she thought took some of the fun out of coming to a public gym. She never brought headphones with her when she came here to workout or train. 

She went to the locker room, to retrieve her bag, which didn’t really have much in it. She only brought one with her because, the first few times she’d come to the gym, she’d noticed everyone else seemed to have one. She tossed her water bottle into it, and pulled out her car keys, before exiting it again, and heading for the door of the gym. 

The evening had settled over Waco the way it always did in the early months: silently and quickly. It was almost full dark as she headed towards her car, swinging her key around one finger. She slowed down when she saw someone already standing beside it. She frowned to herself, muscles tensing, ready for a fight, if necessary. She slid her fingers through the holes on the brass knuckles keychain Kate had given her, and not as a joke, three Christmases ago, approaching the car more slowly. 

“Hello?” she asked, and then relaxed when the person near her car turned around to face her, and she saw it was Ethan. “Oh, fuck.” She exhaled, and pulled her fingers out of the brass knuckles, annoyed with herself, and with him. “What are you doing here?” 

“I stopped at your apartment, but you weren’t there,” he said, “and then I realized that you might be here, training, so I thought I’d check.” He looked sheepish, as he moved towards her, and she was able to see him more clearly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry.” 

Sophie shook her head. “I was ready to beat the shit out of you,” she told him, and he smiled a bit. “But seriously, what are you doing here? I said I’d talk to you later, not that I’d see you later.”

“I decided I wanted to see you,” Ethan explained. “See how you were doing.” He gestured. “Are you cold?” 

She glanced down at her outfit, realizing that her workout clothes weren’t the warmest, and shrugged a little. “Not really, but I wasn’t planning on standing in the outdoor parking lot for this long, either.” She offered him a pointed look, and Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Sorry. Uh - are you hungry?” 

“Sure,” Sophie said. “Wanna go to the diner?” 

“That’s - yeah, sure,” Ethan replied. “Uh… I can drive us, if you wanna go home and change, first. Drop your car off.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Sophie said. He nodded, and then stepped away from her car, heading towards where he’d parked his own, which she spotted across the lot. She watched him go, and then smiled to herself, moving around to the driver’s side of the Civic, unlocking the vehicle as she went. 

Twenty minutes later, she was in her closest, changing her clothes, while Ethan waited in her apartment’s living room. She hated to admit that while she changed, she had a brief fantasy of him walking in, stopping her from getting dressed, and instead pushing her up against the closet door, with the full intention of -

“Soph?” 

She paused, halfway through pulling a sweater over her head. “Yeah?”

“Can we stay here?” she heard Ethan ask. “I’m not super hungry, and I kind of don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Oh.” She finished tugging on her sweater, and stepped out of the closet. “Yeah, that’s fine. I don’t - I don’t have a lot of stuff to make.” 

“You have stuff for spaghetti,” Ethan said.

She smiled to herself, heading towards her bedroom door. “Did you go looking through my pantry?” 

She pulled open the door, and almost ran right into him, because he’d been standing directly on the other side of it. She blinked in surprise, and took a step back, at the same time he did. He offered her his half-grin. “Maybe.” 

“I thought you didn’t like spaghetti, ‘cause it uses tomato sauce,” she said, after a moment, moving past him into the hall. He followed her back to the living room. 

“I don’t mind it if I can put my own sauce on it. I have a specific pasta-to-sauce ratio I have to judge for myself,” he explained.

“Hm.” She went into the kitchen, and reached into the cabinet that held her pots and pans, pulling out the large pasta pot. She carried it over to the sink, and began filling it with water, glancing back at him. “I guess you can spoon your own sauce on, at the end.” 

“What can I do to help, before then?” Ethan asked, resting his hands on the countertop of the small island in the center of the kitchen. 

“Stand there,” Sophie answered, “and don’t get in my way.” 

“Easy enough,” Ethan said agreeably. “So, how was it? Seeing your mom?”

“Uhm.” Sophie hauled the filled pot to the stove instead, and set it down on one of the larger burners, before turning the knob. The burner clicked over a few times before igniting, and she leaned back against the counter beside it. “Enlightening, I guess? For her, more than me.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that she apologized,” Sophie said. “For being the way that she was, allowing her feelings about certain things to get in the way of her relationship with me, and with Kate. She said that she didn’t want what happened with Kate happening between the two of us.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve never heard her speak that way, and she was almost crying. I think - I don’t know what happened, but she was being genuine, so I told her that I forgive her.” 

“Good,” Ethan said, after a moment. “I mean, I don’t really know how your relationship with your mother looked, but… it sounds like she wants to make it better, so that’s good.”

“Yeah,” Sophie said. “It just would have been nice if she hadn’t waited so long to make it happen.” 

“Fair enough,” Ethan replied. 

They were quiet for a few minutes, while Sophie added salt to the water, and then dumped a jar of sauce into a sauce pan and set that on the stove as well. While he watched her do this, Ethan seemed to be thinking about something, and when she turned back to him, he tilted his head to one side. 

“Did you do what I suggested? Think about Kate, about her life?”

“I did,” Sophie replied, circling the counter so that she could stand next to him instead. 

“Did it make the day less terrible?” 

“In a way,” she said, and she offered him a smile. “But no matter what the day looked like, I’m glad you suggested it, because it was the right thing to do.” 

Ethan nodded, and looked at the pot of water. “I think it’s starting to boil.”

“Ethan?” 

“Hm?” 

Sophie glanced down. “Could - this is stupid, but… can I have a hug?” 

She lifted her gaze again, when he didn’t reply, and saw him looking back at her. His own eyes were gentle. 

“Soph, you don’t even have to ask,” he said, and then slid his arms around her, pulling her into him. Sophie breathed outwards, slowly, as she allowed herself to relax into the hug, locking her own arms around his shoulders, hooking her chin over one by rising up onto her toes. As she closed her eyes, taking in the hug, the comforting, just-right feeling of having his arms around her, she reminded herself that a hug was as far as things could ever go, however nice the fantasy she’d had while changing had been. 

She could almost hear Kate’s singular snort-laughter, as she imagined telling her sister about said fantasy, and Sophie smiled a little to herself, and briefly tucked her face against Ethan’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything about it. 

“It’s definitely boiling now,” she heard him say instead, after a few more moments, and she managed a chuckle, pulling out of the hug to go put the spaghetti into the pot.

Chapter 10: "You don't have a present for me at least, right?"

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Ethan’s birthday was easy to remember, because it was almost exactly one month before hers, which fell on April 18th. Sophie, who was going to turn twenty-nine, was not super pleased about her birthday, and thus refused to tell Ethan when it was, despite the fact that he asked on an extremely consistent basis. 

While they were playing King in the Corner one Thursday evening during the high school’s spring break: “When’s your birthday?”

“None of your business.”

While they were taking her car through the car wash before heading to supper on a Saturday: “Is it coming up soon?” 

“I’m not telling you.” 

While grocery shopping, preparing for a viewing party Ethan had decided to have during a Kings game, the one that would get the Kings into the Stanley Cup play-offs, in fact: “It’s this month, though, right?”

“Please stop asking.” 

And the night before, which happened to be a Sunday: “It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Sophie almost dropped the plate she was washing from supper: Cajun Chicken Pasta. Ethan couldn’t get enough of it. She looked over at where he stood before the dish drainer, drying the dishes she was doing, and frowned. 

“How’d you find out?” 

Ethan hummed, not looking at her. “Talked to the bookstore lady at the high school.”

“When did -?”

“Last Friday, when I picked you up,” he said. “You were taking a while, so we got to talking, and I slid it into conversation. She seemed surprised that I didn’t already know.” He set the plate he’d been drying into the drainer, and turned his head towards her, and took  the one she handed him. “Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

“Because I’m old,” she responded, flatly, and scooped a fork out of the soapy water. 

“Twenty-nine isn’t old,” Ethan told her. 

“You’re thirty-two. Of course you’d say that, mostly to make yourself feel better, I bet,” Sophie grumbled, scrubbing the fork with what was probably too much intensity. Ethan confirmed this when he reached over and gently pulled it out of her hands. 

“It’s not old,” he assured her. She snorted, and started to wash the other fork. “Why do you think it’s old?”

“I’m going to be twenty-nine, and I’m not married, and I have no kids,” she said. “My mama had two daughters by the time she was my age, both of them already in school!’ 

“Sounds to me like your mother just ended up marrying young and starting a family when she was young,” Ethan said. “It’s not a big deal that you didn’t decide to do the same thing. You have a successful career, you work out regularly, and you generally just… do a good job of taking care of yourself.” He glanced at her. “If you’re worried that you’re not… living a fulfilling life, because you’re not married at this point, I think that’s you being the tiniest bit naïve.” 

“Says you,” Sophie responded. 

“I was married,” Ethan said, “but it wasn’t a great marriage. My point stands.”

Sophie sighed. “Well, we’re different people,” she said, and handed him the fork, before reaching for the pan she’d used to cook the chicken in. 

They were silent for a few minutes, long enough to finish doing the dishes. Sophie exited the kitchen, and sank down onto her couch, staring into space. Ethan joined her after a moment. 

“So… are you not going to do anything for it?” he asked, and Sophie rolled her eyes, turning away from him. “What? I’m just curious. I can guess that you aren’t going to be throwing a party or anything like that, but… I don’t know. Are you going to have a candle to blow out? Presents?”

“No,” Sophie answered. “I don’t want to celebrate my birthday, and that means I don’t get candles and presents.” She reached for her cell phone. “Can we please stop talking about it?”

“Fine, fine,” Ethan relented, putting up his hands. He then glanced at his watch. “I should probably get going anyway.” Sophie grunted a response, not looking up from her phone. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No,” she said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She lifted her eyes only to glare at him. “And you better not sing me happy birthday whenever you end up calling me.” 

He offered her a grin, and placed his hand over his heart. “I swear I won’t,” he said, and stood up. “Walk me down?” 

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.” 

His response didn’t leave much room for argument, and she sighed, but pushed herself up off the couch and followed him out into the hall, not bothering to lock the door behind her. 

They went down to where he’d parked his car, and stood next to it for a moment, Ethan apparently not completely ready to get in and drive away. He looked at Sophie, an expression she couldn’t read in his eyes, and she lifted her brows. 

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” he said after a moment, and then hooked an arm around her and pulled her into a hug. “Try not to be too much of a grump tomorrow, okay? If they bring you a cake or something at school, please be gracious about it.” 

Sophie grew defensive. “Well, I’m not going to be an asshole,” she said. “But I already told them not to get me a cake, so there.” 

Ethan sighed. “That’s kind of asshole of you, Soph.” 

She shrugged, and he let her out of the hug. 

“Get home safe,” she said, because she tried to say it every time, even if she was a little disgruntled, and he smiled. 

“I will,” he said, and she watched him slide into his car. She retreated towards her apartment building, after he’d driven out of the parking lot. When she was back in the privacy of her own apartment, she sighed to herself. She supposed she did need to stop being such an ass about everything. 

***

She received a grand total of eighteen “Happy birthdays!” the following day. Most of them were in-person, given to her by fellow staff members at the school, and the three students who must have seen her birthday posted on the staff birthday wall in the front office. She took each one with good grace, small smiles and polite thank yous. 

Her mother knew better by now than to wish her a happy birthday straight-out, but she did receive a “Thinking of you. Hope you have a good day,” text from her. It was close enough that she counted it towards the grand total. 

She did not receive one from Ethan, which was very good of him, actually, although she didn’t receive anything at all from him, which was odd. Usually, he’d text her while on his lunch break, or when he knew she was on hers. Just a typical check in, a “How’s your day going?” exchange of messages. But… nothing. 

She chose to chalk it up to the fact that he was simply going to the extreme of respecting her wishes for her birthday, but she had to wonder if he was maybe picking on her a little, too, by showing just how seriously he would take his promise, since she’d been so adamant about it. That bothered her a little, and as the school day came to a close, and she was getting ready to leave, she decided to send him a text. 

Me [4:02 PM]: Hey. 

That was good. Just a greeting. Something he could respond with anything to. 

She drove to her apartment complex, and went up to her apartment, before checking her phone again. She’d gotten a text back from him, at least. 

Winters [4:10 PM]: Oh, hey. What’s up?

She frowned at the screen. What’s up? Was he making fun of her, or was he just… obtuse? She didn’t think it was the latter. 

Me [4:21 PM]: … nothing, I guess. Didn’t get a text from you at lunch. 

Winters [4:23 PM]: Oops. Must’ve forgotten. Sorry. 

Sophie’s stomach clenched. Why was he being so weird? 

Me [4:24 PM]: Is something wrong?

Winters [4:26 PM]: No. Why? 

She blew out a puff of air. 

Me [4:26 PM]: You’re being weird.

Winters [4:29 PM]: Am I? What’s weird?

Sophie decided she wanted to have this conversation using their actual voices. She dialed him straight from their text conversation, brought the phone up to her ear, and waited. 

When she heard the line click, as he picked up on the other end, she said, “You’re being weird.”

Instead of receiving a response from him, there was silence. She furrowed her brows. “Winters?” she asked, tightening her grip around the phone. “Hello?” 

Another second of silence, and then: 

“They say it’s your birthday!
Well, it’s my birthday too, yeah
They say it’s your birthday!
We’re gonna have a good time!
I’m glad it’s your birthday!
Happy birthday to you!”

Sophie glared straight ahead at nothing as the music stopped, and then Ethan was speaking into her ear instead, a grin very clearly heard in his voice. 

“You said, one, that I couldn’t sing happy birthday to you, and, two, that I couldn’t do so when I decided to call you. So, obviously, I had to get you to call me, and then I had the Beatles sing it to you instead.” Sophie did not respond. “Which means, technically, that I didn’t break my promise.” 

She said nothing. 

“Soph? Are you pissed?”

“Yes,” she said, forcing herself to sound bitter, and knew that she’d best prove her point if she hung up, but found that she was unwilling to. She also found that, despite everything, a grin was tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You ass.” 

“A smart ass, one might say,” Ethan agreed, happily. “How many people said happy birthday to you today?” 

“Technically eighteen, if I count my mother’s text,” she said. “Nineteen, if I count your stupid stunt.” 

“You mean my elaborate and perfectly executed plan,” Ethan said. 

“If you want to talk yourself up that much, sure.” He chuckled, and she elected not to fight back her smile, since he couldn’t see her anyway. She adjusted her grip on her phone. “How was your day?”

“Normal,” Ethan said. “Thankfully, I didn’t have much work to do, which meant that I could focus on my plan.” 

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I can’t stand you.”

“Yes you can,” Ethan said. “Otherwise, you would’ve stopped talking to me a long time ago.” 

That was true, and really, Sophie hadn’t meant it. It had just seemed like the best thing to say to maintain her position that her birthday sucked and he’d made it worse by pulling his stunt, even if she did admire his commitment to the bit. 

“You don’t have a present for me at least, right?” she asked, and he hummed. 

“No, I don’t have a present for you.” 

“Good,” she said, marginally relieved. 

“Unless you count my company as a present.”

Her relief vanished. “What?”

“I’m on my way over,” he said, “and I’m going to beat you at King in the Corner while we watch the Kings beat the shit out of the Sharks.” 

“You don’t have any idea how to play King in the Corner correctly, let alone beat me,” Sophie told him, standing and going over to her window, which looked down onto the street. “And the Kings are going to fall flat on their faces.” She considered the street. “Are you actually on your way over this early?” 

“Yep,” Ethan said. “Sorry, but I’m bored. We don’t have to talk about how it’s your birthday, but I want to hang out with you.” 

“You just hung out with me yesterday,” Sophie reminded him. 

“I did.”

“And you want to do it again already.”

“We’re friends. Shouldn’t I want to hang out with you?” He paused. “Or do you not want to hang out with me?” 

“Don’t,” she sighed, because he knew better than to ask her that sort of question. “I’m going to hang up, then.” 

“Okay,” he said, cheerfully. “See you in a bit.” 

The call ended, and she lowered her phone, staring down at it for a moment, before she shook her head to herself, laughing a little. She then headed for the kitchen to see if she had anything to make them for supper, or if she’d have to let Ethan convince her he’d pay for delivery from somewhere. 

She supposed that he could do something like that for a present. That wasn’t a big deal; food was important, for sustenance reasons. It almost wasn’t a present at all. She thought that she could let such a thing slide. 

***

May, 2016, was for the most part uneventful, aside from one very specific thing. 

And the fact that it was so uneventful apart from the one thing was kind of thrilling. 

Sophie was pretty useless at school, with standardized testing going on, some of which was conducted within the library due to the student population exceeding certain regulations. This caused marginal stress for her, considering that, if one of the computers wasn’t working, she was usually the one that was called upon first to try and resolve the issue, and she was responsible for cleaning up after each group of students that came in to test, which was annoying. Other than that, however, there wasn’t much to think too hard about. 

The one very specific thing that made May, 2016 eventful was the fact that, as of the end of May, 2016, the San Jose Sharks would be going to the final round of the playoffs for the Stanley Cup, something she very distinctly remembered telling Ethan they’d be doing way back when they first met. 

When they had gotten their spot in the bracket at first, she’d called him the moment she’d found out, only to have him tell her, “Yes, I already know.” When she’d pointed out they’d be playing the Kings, he’d said, “Yes, I know. We’re watching every single game together.” 

That had been perfectly fine with her, and throughout the final few weeks of April, beginning shortly before her birthday (the game that took place on her birthday had been a Sharks loss, which she’d hated, but Ethan had actually cackled about it, which had been thrilling in and of itself), they’d done as he’d said, and watched literally every single Sharks/Kings game, and when the Sharks scored their sixth goal in game five, after having held a commanding lead game-wise throughout the entire two weeks, she’d looked at him haughtily and said, “Told ya.” 

Ethan had merely smiled and responded, “They won’t make it to the finals.”

The first game of the second round was on April 29th. This one, they didn’t watch together, but the Sharks won, 5-2. She’d texted him afterwards, gleeful, and he’d texted back: Wait and see.

She had, for the first two weeks of May. The second round of the playoffs ended up lasting seven games, instead of five, and Sophie’s hopes had wavered, very briefly, until the Sharks had taken game seven with an astounding score of five-to-zero. Ethan had called her, that time, and she’d whooped in his ear: “DID YOU SEE?”

“I saw.”

“We’re going to the conference finals!”

“Yeah.” He’d paused. “But it’s the conference finals. Not the Stanley Cup finals.” 

That was true. She’d said Stanley Cup finals, when they’d had their first discussion about hockey, in late August of 2015. She couldn’t rub it in his face quite yet how right she’d been about her team. 

The latter half of May, then, was spent in a mixture of calm and frantic energy, as at school she pretty much had nothing at all to do, and at home, it was hockey, hockey, hockey almost constantly. 

Really, though, the Blues never stood a chance. 

Her call to Ethan on May 29th, after game seven, was as follows: 

“I told you.”

“Mhm.”

“Say it.”  

“You told me.”

“Told you what, Winters? I wanna hear you say it.” 

He’d sighed. “You told me that the Sharks were going to the Stanley Cup finals.”

“And?” 

“... and?” 

“And are they?”

“Soph -”

“Say it.”

A pause. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sophie, the Sharks are going to the Stanley Cup finals.”

She’d beamed. “Thank you. That’s all I wanted.”

“Don’t you want them to win?”

“Of course,” she’d said, “but I’m content in the knowledge that even if they don’t, I was right about them making it way back in August, before the season even started.”

Ethan had chuckled, apparently unable to keep from doing so, because she knew he wouldn’t have unless he absolutely could not hold back. “You were right,” he said. “I’m very impressed. You are indeed a true hockey fan, Sophie Garner, liberal librarian from Texas.”

“Thank you, Ethan Winters, beach baby engineer from California.”

Of course, none of this stopped her from almost tipping her coffee table in rage when, almost two more weeks later, the Sharks pretty much shit on their chances of actually winning the cup, and lost to the fucking Penguins. 

Just as Ethan had semi-predicted, when he’d mentioned that the Pens had Sidney Crosby playing for them. 

He was sitting beside her when game six of the finals neared the end, and he had to restrain her from actually flipping her coffee table as the Sharks let a third Penguin goal get past them. She cursed at the screen with as much colorful language as she could think of while Ethan held her around the waist, laughing quietly to himself. 

“It’s not funny!” she exclaimed, angrily twisting herself out of his grasp and stalking around to the back of the couch. She pointed at the screen. “They’re fuckin’ throwing it!” 

“They won two games,” Ethan said. 

“If they would’ve won this one, they would’ve forced game seven!” 

“But they’re not going to,” Ethan said. “And that’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Sophie snapped. “This means you were right!” 

“I was?” 

She glowered. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember saying that the Penguins were better off, because they have Sidney Crosby. I know you do.”

He smiled. “You’re right. I do.” He crossed his arms. “Notice how I’m not making a big deal out of it.” 

She managed to scowl at him for maybe thirty straight seconds, before running out of the adrenaline that had set her alight minutes before. Her shoulders fell, and she hung her head, defeated. 

“Hey,” Ethan said, and she heard him move across the living room to join her behind the couch. He patted her on the back. “Don’t be too sad. They made it to the final round. That’s a pretty big deal.” 

“The Penguins changed coaches mid-season, and we lost to them,” Sophie complained. 

“Changing coaches mid-season was the best decision the Penguins could have made,” Ethan soothed. “Otherwise they wouldn’t have done it.” Sophie didn’t respond, and Ethan chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. “You were never a good sport in school, were you?”

“The P. E. coaches made me run laps when the class got to play dodgeball,” she admitted after a moment. 

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Ethan responded. He was running his fingers through her hair, the sensation sending pinpricks of light into her scalp and the back of her neck with every sweep of his hand, and she was suddenly very determined not to let him release her from the hug. She closed her eyes, and tried not to move, wondering if she stayed very still, he’d forget that he was even holding her, and thus wouldn’t have to let her go. 

“Oh, look, they’re doing the handshakes,” he said, what seemed only moments later. He stepped away from her, and she felt the loss instantly, crossing her arms and glowering at the TV. 

“Can we go get ice cream?” she asked, once the camera had switched over to commentators in their booth. “I need to drown my sorrows.” 

“Sure,” Ethan agreed. “I’ll even pay for it.” He set his hand on the small of her back, to guide her towards the front door, and Sophie concluded that Ethan must enjoy being in physical contact with her. Ever since she’d asked for that hug in March, it seemed to her that he was constantly finding excuses to do something that involved the two of them touching, even if it wasn’t necessary that they do so. The hand on her back was a clear indication of this. 

She tried not to think too hard about it as she led the way out of her building and to his car. It wouldn’t do much to help her in her continued efforts to move past her attraction to him if she were to think about it, after all. 

And moving past the attraction she had to Ethan Winters was still very much one of her top priorities, despite the fact that she’d been working on it for the majority of the time they’d known one another. Some goals, however, you just didn’t give up on. Especially not when their outcome was an extremely important component as to her friendship with him, and how it looked on the outside, as well as how it felt on the inside.

Notes:

Is it cheating to have shoved two months into the same chapter? I don't think so, considering one is pretty much just a recap of the Stanley Cup play-offs from the 2015-2016 season.
I probably took some liberties by saying that Ethan and Sophie were able to watch every Kings/Sharks game together, but, hell, it's a fanfiction, and it really has no bearing on the overall story.

Chapter 11: "Are you kidding me?"

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It was early July, and Sophie had a flat tire. 

“C’mon, really?” She glared down at the flat, exhaustion sinking in, frustration not helped in the slightest by the humid warmth of early July Waco weather. How could she have a flat? She’d barely driven anywhere the last few weeks, since school had let out. Where in the world had she run over something that had so thoroughly deflated the damn thing? 

She kicked the tire, regretted it when her toe struck the rim harder than she’d intended, and pulled out her phone. She had car insurance, but she didn’t have the fifty bucks plus ten per mile it required for a tow. But she’d need a tow, since she didn’t have a spare, unless she could find someone who was willing to drive her happy ass to the Discount Tire. 

Dammit. 

She went into her contacts, selected Ethan’s number, and brought the phone to her ear. 

He answered on the second ring. He was pretty good about that, actually, whether he was at work or not. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Sophie greeted. “Uhm. Are you busy?” 

“I’m about to go on my break,” Ethan said. “Why, what’s up?” 

Sophie sighed. “I have a flat, and no spare, but I have a doctor’s appointment that I need to get to, in, like, fifteen minutes.” 

Ethan didn’t respond for a moment, and she closed one eye, ready for him to tell her she’d better call an Uber. 

Instead, he said, “I can be there in ten. How far is your doctor’s office?” 

“Not too far. I can call them and let them know I’ll probably be a little late.” Sophie’s heart felt about three sizes too big for her chest. “Thank you, Ethan, seriously.” 

“No problem. See you soon.” 

She lowered her phone, ending the call, and then leaned against the side of her car, exhaling. Thank goodness for Ethan Winters. She didn’t know who else she could have called, and she really couldn’t miss her appointment. It was the only one she had all year, and she’d already had to reschedule it once before. 

True to his word, eight minutes later, in fact, Ethan’s Challenger pulled up outside of her apartment complex. Sophie met him at the street, beaming. 

“You’re my hero,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat. 

“Sure,” Ethan said, sounding dismissive, but she thought she could hear a smile in his voice, too. “Where’s your doctor’s office?” 

Sophie told him, giving him directions during the whole drive. When they reached the office, Ethan pulled into an empty spot in the parking lot, and Sophie hurried out of the car, not wanting to be any later than she already was. 

“I’ll text you later!” she called over her shoulder in the general direction of Ethan’s car, and pushed her way into the office. 

***

About an hour later, she exited the doctor’s office, relieved. She’d gotten a year long prescription for her birth control, and she hadn’t fainted while getting her blood drawn, which marked a good yearly doctor’s visit in her mind. She was reaching into her bag to retrieve her phone, to actually call for an Uber this time, when she heard a car honk from nearby. She glanced up, and saw Ethan’s Challenger parked in a spot. 

Frowning, she approached it, and paused next to the driver’s side. Ethan rolled down the window. “What?” he asked. 

“What’re you doing here?” she returned. “I didn’t ask you to take me home. Shouldn’t you be back at work?” 

“I took my lunch,” Ethan explained. “Figured you could use a ride home, since you needed one here.” He raised his eyebrows. “Is that okay?” 

“Yeah,” Sophie said, still frowning, but then she blinked, and straightened up. “Yes. Thank you. I - I could’ve called an Uber, but this - I mean, if it’s no problem for you, then this is so much easier.” She walked around the Challenger to the passenger side, and got into the seat, closing the door behind her. She looked over at him as she pulled her seatbelt over herself. “You did get to eat something, though, right?” 

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “I got food while I waited for you.” He frowned a bit as he put the car in reverse to back out of the spot. “Why do your doctor’s appointments take so long?” 

“Lots of patients, I guess,” Sophie replied. Her stomach rumbled, and she placed a hand over it, hoping it hadn’t been loud enough to attract Ethan’s attention. 

It didn’t appear to have been, because he didn’t comment on it. “Do you need me to drive you to a Discount Tire?” he asked instead.

“Don’t you need to get back to work?” Sophie queried in response, and Ethan hummed. 

“I can take the rest of the day off,” he said. “Having a flat sucks, and it’s - I mean, it’s good to have someone with you while dealing with it.” He glanced sideways at her. “Do you know how to get the tire off?” 

Sophie made a face. “Of course I do,” she said. “I’ve changed my tire before.”

“Why don’t you have a spare?” Ethan asked. 

Sophie chewed the inside of her cheek. “It’s flat, too,” she mumbled after a moment, and Ethan let out a bark of laughter. She felt her cheeks grow warm. “Shut up.”

“How do you get a flat spare tire?”

“I don’t know!” Sophie said. “It’s just… not filled. I meant to get it filled, the last time this happened, but I forgot to.” She glowered at her lap. “Like a dumbass.”

Ethan chuckled. “It’s okay,” he said. “That’s why you need someone else around when dealing with this sort of thing. You get wrapped up in thinking about your real tire, and you forget about your flat spare, or anything else that might seem less important at the time, so you need someone to remind you.” He reached over and nudged her thigh with his hand. “So I’m here. To remind you. Do you want me to take the rest of the day off?” 

Sophie blew out a breath. She looked over at him as they pulled up to a red light, and Ethan gazed back, one eyebrow raised. 

“If you don’t mind,” she said, quietly, and he smiled a bit. 

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” he said. “Let’s get back to your apartment, and I’ll call my work while you call Discount Tire, see if you can get in there today.” 

“Okay.” Sophie didn’t really know where to begin, in expressing her gratitude. “Ethan, I -”

He shook his head. “You can buy me dinner or something,” he said. “If you feel like it.” 

She smiled a bit. “Sounds good,” she said. “Just let me know when.” 

“Tonight probably makes the most sense, since it seems like we’ll be spending the day together,” he said, looking sideways at her. “Are you hungry? You probably fasted, right? To get your blood drawn?” 

Sophie hummed. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ll eat something at the apartment really quick. I doubt Discount will have an appointment open right away.” 

They went back to her apartment, and Sophie called Discount Tire, set up an appointment for a little later in the day. She then poured herself a bowl of cereal, and settled down on the couch to eat it, watching as Ethan paced around the room, on the phone with his work. The call didn’t last long, and when he’d joined her on the couch, she looked at him, a bit worried. 

“Are they mad?”

“Who is there to be mad? I’m kind of my own supervisor; I just had to let someone know, and they were pissed that they’re going to be doing my work today,” Ethan responded, frowning at her cereal in disapproval. “Shouldn’t you eat something more substantial than that?” 

“It’s the breakfast of champions,” Sophie pointed out. 

“It’s one in the afternoon.” 

She shrugged. “I didn’t get to eat this morning, so I’m having my breakfast now.”

He smiled at that. “When’re we taking your tires?”

“2:00.”

“Hm.” He leaned back against the cushions. “Sounds good.” 

“I’m sorry you had to leave work,” she told him. 

“What for?” he asked. “I’d rather hang out with you than be at work.” 

“Do you mean that?” Sophie questioned. 

“Yep.” The reply was quick, easily given. For him, that meant it was the truth, and her lips rose at the corners in a smile as she spooned up more cereal. 

They sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes, not unusual for them, as Sophie finished eating and Ethan scrolled through whatever book he happened to be reading on his phone. She made fun of him for that, having his books on his phone, and he argued it was more convenient than hauling a physical book around the way that she always did. She’d point out that there was something more authentic to reading a physical book than an electronic publication of one, and Ethan would roll his eyes, and that would be the end of the discussion. 

“What are you reading?” she asked him, after returning from putting her bowl in the kitchen sink. 

“Holes.” When she looked at him in confusion, he shrugged. “I read it when I was a kid. I liked it. I’m reading it again. We should watch the movie together, when I’m done.” 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Sophie pulled her legs up beneath her, and toyed with her bracelet, the one he’d given to her for Christmas. She wore it everywhere she went. Putting it on had become a natural part of her process of getting ready in the morning: she’d put on the bracelet, and then her ring. Both were constant accessories. She wouldn’t feel like herself without either, she didn’t think. 

“Let’s play a game,” she said, after a moment. 

“A game?” 

“Yeah.” She turned to face him. “I bet I know more about you, than you know about me.” Ethan scoffed, and her brows drew together. “What? You don’t think it sounds fun?”

“No, I’m sure it’ll be a lot of fun,” Ethan said. “For me, though. Not for you.” 

“Why?” 

“Why?” Ethan let out a single laugh. “Because I know more about you.”  

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t pick this fight, Soph,” Ethan advised. “You won’t win.”

Sophie eyed him. “Ask me a question.”

Ethan rolled his head back against the cushion, so that he could look at her. “Okay,” he said. “What’s my favorite movie?”

Sophie deadpanned. “Speed. You weirdo.” 

“There’s nothing weird about it,” Ethan replied. “Why is it my favorite?” 

“Because you enjoy how ridiculous the concept behind it is,” Sophie replied. “You think it’s hilarious.”

“Because it is,” Ethan said with a grin. “You don’t have a favorite movie, but you have a favorite animated movie, and it’s Shrek 2.”

Sophie struggled to bite back a smile of her own. “Why?” 

“Because of the soundtrack. And you think it’s funny, although you don’t laugh when you’re watching it unless you’re around people you trust not to laugh at you for laughing at it.” He looked away from her again. “I know you better than you know me. That’s just a fact, the same way our favorite movies are facts.”

“You mean like how your favorite number is fourteen because you were supposed to be born on the fourteenth of March, even though you were born on the sixteenth?” Sophie asked him, and his gaze returned to her. “Or how you think your favorite color might be green, but you never really think about it enough to actually say what your favorite color is? Or how you’re afraid to watch Game of Thrones because you think it’ll be better than the books and that you won’t want to read the final book whenever it comes out?” 

Maybe she was being a little much, based on the way Ethan was watching her in surprise, but she wanted to prove it to him. She decided that she’d probably said enough, and relented, waiting for him to reply with something, expectant. 

“I’m not afraid to watch Game of Thrones,” he said at last. 

“Hesitant, then, whatever,” she responded. “It’s still the truth.” 

Ethan readjusted on the couch, sitting up a little. “Well, I know that you’ll never own a dog, because you’re afraid that you’ll love it so much that when it dies, you’ll never be the same,” he said. “And I know that you can’t stand people who don’t respect the fact that every person is an individual, who should be free to make their own choices, and believe what they want to believe. You think they’re hypocrites.” 

“They are,” Sophie mumbled, glancing away. 

“I also know that you’d prefer to do literally everything on your own, if you could, because you don’t like asking for help. You think it makes people think you can’t do anything on your own,” Ethan went on. “And I know that, if you’d let them, the people around you would be more than willing to do things for you, if you just asked.” 

“Who do I have around me?” Sophie asked. “Do you know them?” 

“I know one of them,” Ethan said. “Me. Which is why I’m here, waiting to take you to Discount Tire. To make sure that you get your main tire filled, and your spare tire filled.” 

Silence once more fell between them. Ethan, it appeared, felt as though he’d gotten the last word. Sophie couldn’t really argue with him on that. 

Finally, she said, “That doesn’t mean you know about me. You know about you, and what you’d do for me.”

“Which says something about you, doesn’t it?” Ethan asked, glancing at her. 

She made a noise that she hoped properly expressed her disagreement, since she could think of nothing to say, and watched as he smiled a little. 

“Okay,” he said. “Be self-deprecating. Just further proof that I know you better.” 

Sophie shook her head, deciding that her game hadn’t been fun, after all. She retrieved her own phone, and checked the weather again, for lack of anything better to do. She groaned. 

“Why do I live in Texas?”

“Because you’re a Texan, and you could never be anything else,” Ethan answered, even though she hadn’t really intended to receive a response. 

She frowned at him. “You don’t know,” she said. “I think I’d be very happy somewhere like… Massachusetts.” Ethan snorted. “What?” 

“Not Massachusetts,” he told her. “You wouldn’t do well in a city.” 

“Not all of Massachusetts is cities.”

“But if you wanted something different than Texas -”

“Weather-wise, Winters,” she clarified. “Sheesh. I don’t wanna… uproot my whole way of life.” 

“My point stands,” Ethan declared, putting his own phone away before standing, and stretching his arms up over his head. This lifted the bottom of the plain black t-shirt he’d been wearing under his button-down, which he’d taken off in the car due to the heat. Sophie definitely did not eye the strip of pale strip of skin that revealed itself over the waistband of his slacks. 

“Let’s go,” he said, dropping his arms. “It’ll take us a bit to drive over there, and we still need to get your tire off.”

“That won’t take long,” Sophie said, jumping up from the couch all the same. She went to retrieve her bag, and her keys, before joining him at the front door. They exited the apartment together. 

***

It took longer than expected to get the tire off. Turned out that they had different ideas as to how best to jack up her Civic. Ethan, who apparently was the end-all-be-all of knowledge about cars, because he owned a classic or whatever, was insistent that they do it his way, while Sophie informed him that she’d owned the Civic for years, and they were going to do it her way. Eventually, she won out, although she could tell Ethan was frustrated by this fact the whole way to Discount Tire, and still frustrated about it as they waited for both her main tire and spare to be filled. 

By the time they were done, and they’d settled back into his Challenger, the spare tire in the backseat and the main tire in the trunk, Ethan’s silence had gotten on Sophie’s last nerve. And had sparked her anxiety in a way that she did not appreciate. 

“Why do you always have to do things your way?” he asked her, before she could speak up. She glanced at him, surprised that he’d said anything at all, let alone something so confrontational. 

“Because I knew it would work? And be less annoying than your way?” Ethan rolled his eyes, pulling up to a stop light, and Sophie glowered. “What?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “You… you have to be in control, no matter what the situation is. It bothers me, sometimes. Like, you don’t even let yourself consider anything that wasn’t your idea.” 

“What, it’s a problem that I know what I want?” Sophie demanded. 

“It’s a problem when it means you don’t let anyone else offer their opinion!” Ethan retorted, sharply. His tone hit her anxiety right in its sore spot, but she did her best not to cower away from him, not to shrink down in the passenger seat. Instead, she sat up straighter. 

“I listened to your opinion.” 

“And then we still ended up doing it your way,” Ethan said. “And we always do that, in a lot of different situations. Whenever we go somewhere, it’s always where you want to go. Whenever we don’t go somewhere, it’s because you decided you didn’t want to. It’s -”

“Are you kidding me?” Sophie asked. “You have to be.” 

“Think about it, and then say that again,” Ethan replied, flatly, as the light turned green again. He sped through it. “Go ahead.” 

Sophie did no such thing. She faced forward, crossing her arms over her chest, and glared out the windshield. 

“I don’t think supper’s a good idea, tonight,” she said. 

“What, because we’re arguing?” Ethan let out a dry laugh. “There you go again.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Oh, fuck me?” Ethan queried. “Because I say one thing that bothers you, and you know it's the truth?” He smiled humorlessly. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”  

Sophie did not look at him. “Take me home,” she grumbled. “I appreciate your help today, but I’m - I’m done.” 

“No.”

Sophie’s eyes widened, and she looked at him in horrified shock. “No?”

Ethan shook his head. “That’s what you want, and what I want is for us to continue this conversation, so we’re going to. I let things go too many times, with Mia, and it -”

He cut himself off. Sophie imagined it was because he’d been about to compare his relationship with his wife to his friendship with her, and that the two things could never possibly be measured as equals. 

Silence fell within the car, but Ethan notably seemed to stick with his position of not taking her home. Sophie, deep down, did not actually want to go home, did want to continue to spend time with him, especially once they stopped arguing. She knew, though, that continuing the conversation would force her to accept his position on her need for control, and she didn’t think she was ready to do that, because she refused to believe it was true of herself. Sure, she was very decisive, and preferred to have things her way, but… it didn’t keep her from hearing what other people wanted. 

… did it? 

Ethan did not drive them back to his apartment, either. Instead, they wound up at a community park that they’d visited once or twice, when Sophie (oh boy) decided she wanted to spend some time outside. She frowned to herself as Ethan parked, and then got out of the car. She lingered behind, wondering if she could get out of the conversation if she simply remained where she was, but knew that that was the childish thing to do. 

She pushed her way from the car as well, and joined him near the hood, arms crossed protectively in front of her. Ethan did not look at her as she leaned back against the car beside him. 

Neither of them said anything for several minutes. There was a playground close by; children were happily running around it, clambering up steps and slipping down slides, swinging back and forth on monkey bars. Sophie felt a sudden longing to be one of them again, to have no concerns beyond what might be for supper, or whether or not she’d be able to skip four bars on the monkey bars the next time she went across them. 

But, no. She was an adult, with adult concerns. Like the fact that she was standing beside the man she considered to be a very good friend, who was staring straight ahead in stoic silence, either waiting for her to speak first, or deciding what he himself should say, in an effort to continue their conversation from before. 

Sophie decided that, if she’d been adult enough to get out of the car, she could be adult enough to restart the conversation herself, with what she knew she needed to say. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, quietly. Ethan did not look at her, and she ignored the surge of panic this sent through her. “I mean it. You’re - I mean, you’re right. I do… I do like it when I’m the one who makes decisions, but it’s just because I… when I don’t, things are more likely to go wrong.” 

He let out a laugh, and she winced. 

“Okay, maybe… maybe that isn’t true, but. You know. If I have a plan, I don’t… I don’t like to stray from it.”

“Sophie, you know it’s more than that,” Ethan told her, but his tone had leveled out, was no longer tinged with anger, which was a good thing, and helped to ease the tension in her shoulders. “It isn’t about you having a plan. It’s about you getting what you want, because, like you said, you’re worried about things being bad otherwise.” He looked sideways at her, finally. “Not everything needs to go exactly the way you want it to, Soph, and not everything is going to.” 

She looked down at the asphalt under their feet. He was right, she knew, and that bothered her, but what was she supposed to say? 

“Are you still mad?” 

He sighed. “I wasn’t… Well, no, that’s a lie, I was mad.” He reached up and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to always do what you want to do. I mean, I do, that came out wrong. What I wanted to say was that I’d like to have some say in how we spend our time together, so I don’t feel like I’m just… going along for the ride.” 

“Do you?” Sophie asked, hating the idea of that, as though he were just a passenger within the scheme of their friendship, because it had never felt that way to her. 

“Not all the time,” he replied, quietly, which was bad enough. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, feeling terrible. 

“It’s okay,” he said, after a moment. “Really.” He turned to face her fully, resting his hip against the front of the car instead. “I know there are going to be some things where you have to be in control, like with getting your tire off earlier. That’s just part of who you are. But when we’re planning on doing something, I’d really appreciate it if you could give me a chance to make a suggestion, sometimes.” 

“I can do that,” Sophie said. “I’ll try not to always have an idea already in mind.”

The half-smile he gave her lifted a weight off of her chest that had sort of been making it difficult to breathe. “I appreciate that.”

Another period of silence, but it was much more comfortable this time. The afternoon sun glinted in Ethan’s hair, making the blond glow like a field of flowered wheat. Sophie shook this comparison out of her head. She considered bringing up what he’d been going to say about conversations with Mia, before, but decided she didn’t want to delve into that today as well. 

Instead, she glanced at him, and, with a hint of humor in her voice asked, “So. Where do you want me to take you for supper?” 

She knew they were definitely okay when Ethan chuckled, and said, “Let me think on it, and I’ll let you know. We’ve still got time.” 

Yes. She supposed they did.

Notes:

I realized that I am a dunce who does not know how to count properly. There were actually three months included in the last chapter, since the section about the play-offs dipped into both May and June. I forgot all about June.
There's a reason my BA in Secondary Education is in Social Studies and not Mathematics.

Chapter 12: "Whenever you're ready to talk it through, I'm here."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Early December of 2016 felt no different than any other month of 2016 had felt. Sophie supposed it was a bit strange, to know that her first full year of having Ethan in her life was coming to a close, but really, it wasn’t strange at all. Ethan Winters had become such an easy, permanent fixture in how she lived each day that she really couldn’t recall what it had been like not to know him. 

Which, really, should have told her more about their relationship than almost everything that had happened between the two of them over the last year and four months since she’d first met him. 

She had to wonder if he felt the same, or if it was weirder for him to have her in his life the same way as he existed in hers than it was for her. She didn’t know where the differences would have lain, but maybe the way Ethan looked at their friendship wasn’t the same as the way she did. It might have been a gender thing, males thinking about their friendships differently than females did, or maybe it was just an Ethan and Sophie thing. Or, maybe, it wasn’t strange for him, either, and he felt the same about 2016 coming to a close as she did. 

On the Thursday before the high school where she worked was set to go on winter break, along with the rest of the school district, Sophie was sitting behind her computer during her lunch, working through it rather than eating, which would have bothered Ethan. Thankfully, he didn’t need to know about it. 

Even as she was thinking this, however, her phone began to vibrate, from where it was sitting on the edge of the desk she sat at, and she sighed when she saw Ethan’s contact photo on the screen. How did he always seem to guess when to call her? He had to have some sort of psychic ability, she concluded, before answering the call. 

“Hey.” Sophie slid her phone between her cheek and shoulder, returning her hands to the keyboard to continue punching in Dewey Decimal numbers. “You’re lucky I’m on my lunch break, Winters, otherwise I wouldn’t have answered. What’s up?”

Silence on the other end of the call. Sophie realized at once that something was wrong. Usually, when Ethan called her, he had something to say right away. Otherwise, he simply texted. 

She sat up in her desk chair, taking her phone in hand again. “Ethan?” she asked. “What’s going on?” 

She heard him inhale. “They declared Mia dead,” he said. 

Sophie blinked. “Who did?”

“The state of Texas, according to this letter I got.” She heard rustling. “They found the ship she was on. Annabelle. It was… I guess it’s in some swamp, in Louisiana. It’s apparently been there for a while. They did a search, found no survivors. The wreck was… I guess it must have been pretty bad. Everyone that had been on board was declared dead.” 

Sophie drew her lower lip between her teeth. “Ethan, I’m so sorry.” He didn’t respond. “I - do you need me to come over, after work? I will.” 

“Can you?” His voice was so soft. It hurt her heart to hear it. “I - I don’t know. I guess I don’t want to be alone.” 

“I can,” Sophie replied, glancing at the time, even though she knew perfectly well what time it was already. She was on her damn lunch break. 

She was on her lunch break. 

“Actually, I’ll come right now,” she said into her phone, rising from her chair. 

“What?” She heard his confusion. “But school doesn’t end until -“ 

“It’s ending for me right now,” she told him, reaching for her bag after she’d logged out of her computer. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.” 

“Soph, don’t be ridiculous,” Ethan said. “Stay. I’ll be fine.” 

She didn’t bother telling him that that was exactly what her sister had told her, the day she’d killed herself. 

“Twenty minutes,” she repeated instead, and then lowered her phone, ending the call. 

***

She pulled up outside his apartment complex a little more than twenty minutes later; it had taken her longer than she would have liked to convince the vice principal to let her leave school early. It had taken the magic words “family emergency” to seal the deal. Sophie really should have pulled them out, first, even if it made her feel warm and staticy inside to think of Ethan as family. 

She hurried through the complex to his building, texting him that she was on her way up. When she reached the door at the top of the outside stairs, he was there, holding it open for her. He didn’t look as though he’d been crying, which was both a good and bad thing. Instead, he looked a bit as though he hadn’t had any sort of reaction at all, which was worse. 

She ushered him back to his apartment, and closed the front door behind them both. “Where’s the letter?” she asked, and Ethan pointed to where it was on the edge of the coffee table as he sank down onto the couch. Sophie finished stripping off her coat and picked it up, reading through it herself. 

A letter separate from the attached death certificate essentially stated what Ethan had told her over the phone. According to the investigation into her disappearance, Mia had been a passenger on some shipping liner called the Annabelle, which had gone missing in October of 2014. It had been discovered only the week prior, washed up in a swamp in Louisiana near someplace called Dulvey. A whole section of the ship had been torn clean off, and when searched, there was no evidence to indicate anyone could have survived the wreck. The fact that there had been a massive storm in the area around the time the ship had sank had also led to the conclusion that everyone on board the vessel had in fact perished. Thus, the death certificate, listing Mia’s name, as well as her assumed death date: October 6th, 2014. 

When she’d read the letter and the death certificate, she lowered both, and looked at Ethan. He was staring straight ahead, expression vacant. She could only imagine where his thoughts were, but she had a feeling they were on a shipping vessel called the Annabelle, on October 6th, 2014, wondering what his wife must have been thinking, wondering how she -

“Ethan,” Sophie said, and moved in front of where he was sitting, squatting down in front of him. She took his hands, trying not to be startled by how cold they were. Instead, she put them together, and covered them both with hers as best she could, trying to use her own body heat to warm them. “I can’t imagine what this must feel like,” she said, “but you are not alone, okay? It’s just… an official declaration of what you were already handling, right? You were accepting that she was gone, and now you know for sure that she is, so any questions of what if? that you might still have? You can stop worrying about them.” 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Instead, I’m worrying about how terrified she must have been, when that storm came, when the ship wrecked. Did she drown? How else could it have happened? Unless she got off the ship, and got lost in the swamp. Maybe got eaten by a crocodile, or whatever.” He blew out a harsh breath, and pulled his hands from hers, leaning forward to place his head in them, and said nothing else. 

Sophie remained where she was in front of him, brows drawn together. She wanted to comfort him, but had no notion as to how to do such a thing. She had no idea of what storm of emotions must be blowing through him. To think your wife was only missing, to wonder if she might come home, to start to accept she was dead, but always have that small chance that maybe she wasn’t, and then to receive a letter in the mail including a drawn up death certificate, signed and dated, with a seal and everything… 

She had absolutely no idea. 

She straightened up, and sat down on the couch next to him instead. She wanted to reach out and wrap an arm around his shoulders, but refrained, considering he’d pulled his hands out of hers. She didn’t think he wanted to be touched, not while he was in his own head, the way he must be. 

“I’m here,” she said, quietly. “Whenever you’re ready to talk it through, I’m here.” 

What else could she say? What mattered was that she was there, in-person, ready for him to speak to her. It was more than she’d done for her sister; she was not going to leave Ethan alone in this. She refused to. 

Time passed. Sophie couldn’t say how much, but by the progression of the sunlight filtering in through the window, she guessed it was close to an hour. She remained where she was beside him, pulling out her phone to read the book she’d downloaded on there (she’d decided to test the merit of Ethan’s position on practicality, and found that, yeah, having the book on your phone was easier, but she still enjoyed the feel of turning real pages more). She’d almost gotten to the end when Ethan stirred beside her, finally. 

She watched him as he slowly sat up, lowering his hands until they dangled between his knees, forearms resting on his thighs. He blinked a few times, as though readjusting to the light in the room, and then he looked at her. The expression on his face was one that indicated surprise, as though he hadn’t realized she’d been sitting next to him the whole time. 

“You didn’t leave.”

“I said I was here,” Sophie replied, lowering her phone. She set it down on the coffee table. “I meant it.” She tilted her head. “What’s on your mind now?” 

“Not much,” he admitted. His tongue darted out, licked his lips, brows together. “I need some water, I think.”

“I’ll get it for you,” Sophie suggested, but Ethan shook his head, standing up before she could. 

“I’ve got it,” he said, and walked into the kitchen. 

Sophie stood up anyway, and followed after him. When he turned away from the fridge, she was relieved to see a small smile appear on his face. 

“What? Worried I’d get lost on the way or something?” 

“No,” she said. “I’ve been sitting for an hour and wanted to stretch my legs.” 

“Mm.” Ethan took a drink from the water bottle he’d pulled from the fridge. “Makes sense.” 

They lingered where they were, Sophie in the archway connecting the kitchen to the living room, Ethan in front of the fridge. Neither said anything. Sophie wanted Ethan to speak, first, to say what he wanted, if he wanted to say anything at all. 

What he said was not something she expected, considering the whole point of her presence at his apartment: “Come to Washington with me, for Christmas.” 

She blinked at him in confusion. “What?” 

“My parents want to see you again,” he said, “and my sister wants to meet you.” He glanced at her. “We could make a road trip out of it.”

“You want to drive to Washington with me,” Sophie said, slowly, probably sounding extremely intelligent as she did so. “You want me to be with your family for Christmas.” 

“Only if you want,” Ethan replied. “I mean obviously I don’t want to force you to come with me, and if you don’t want to drive, we don’t have to. I’ll pay for a plane ticket for you. But only if you want to come.” 

Sophie considered him for a moment, and then glanced downwards. Invited to Christmas with Ethan and his family. That was… weird, wasn’t it? They were friends, had grown close over the course of the year and some months that they’d known one another - in fact, she’d probably call Ethan her best friend, even - but it was still weird. Right? You didn’t bring friends to Christmas. Easter, maybe, if that was something both you and your friend celebrated, but not Christmas. 

She glanced back up at him. “Ethan, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she said, and when he frowned, she hurriedly added, “because it’s Christmas. I’d love to see your parents again, and meet your sister and her family. But… doing that over Christmas, a holiday that’s meant to be spent with just family, it… seems strange. Doesn’t it?” 

“Not if we don’t make it strange,” Ethan said. “I’d like for you to spend the holidays with me. Mostly I want you to meet the rest of my family. It just so happens that the best time for you to do that is during Christmas.” He shrugged. “I can kind of see why you might think it’s a little weird, but like I said, it doesn’t have to be.” 

Sophie drew her brows together. “I don’t want them to have to worry about getting me a Christmas present,” she said, and Ethan actually smiled a bit at that. 

“Is that your issue? I’ll tell them not to. They probably will anyway, since I always ask them not to get me anything either, but they do.” He cocked his head to the side. “Please? You’ll like Washington.”

“My mom,” Sophie said, after a moment, and Ethan’s shoulders fell. 

“Right.” He seemed thoughtful, and then brightened. “Well, what if you stayed here for Christmas, but then came up for New Year’s? That way, you wouldn’t need to worry about the presents, but you’d still get to see my parents and meet my sister and her family.”

Sophie had to admit that that seemed like a pretty fair compromise. She turned slightly away from him, arms crossed over her chest, thinking it over. It made sense. New Year’s wasn’t a holiday that you separated friends and family during. Anyone who was anybody could attend a New Year’s party. Sometimes a person would attend a total stranger’s New Year’s party. 

Of course, the one in Washington wouldn’t be a party like that, since Ethan’s sister had small children, but.

Sophie turned to him again, and smiled a little, before nodding. “That sounds good. But we’ll need to fly back on the first. Or I will. School starts up again the next day.” 

“That’s fine,” Ethan responded, smiling back. “I’ll pay for your ticket.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’m the one who invited you,” Ethan said. “I’m paying for your flights.” 

“Ethan -”

“Don’t, or I’m uninviting you,” he warned, and Sophie fell silent, not wanting to lose her invitation. She’d been hesitant at first, but now that it was just New Year’s she’d be spending with him and his family, she felt a bit better. 2017. It was going to be a good year. As good as it could be, anyway.

Then she remembered why she was over at his apartment in the first place, and all of her joy about the invitation and her anticipation for the trip fled her. 

“Ethan, are you - are you all right?” she asked him, and he lowered the bottle of water, which he’d been taking another drink out of. He screwed the lid back on, and then inhaled and exhaled. 

“I think so,” he said. “I - I mean, since I’ve been spending the last year accepting her death, seeing it on the piece of paper didn’t really… change how I viewed everything. I just know, now, that I was doing the right thing after all.” He frowned a little. “I guess it does mean that I’m not married anymore, officially. Huh.” 

“Is that weird?” Sophie asked. 

“A little, I guess,” Ethan replied, after a moment. “But… not really? I was…” He paused, and then let out a brief laugh. “Y’know what? Yeah, I’ll go ahead and tell you.” He looked at her. “I was originally going to file for divorce when she got back from her trip.”

Sophie’s eyebrows rose. “You were?” She didn’t try to hide her astonishment, even though, really, she shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was. Ethan had told her plenty of times what his and Mia’s marriage had been like, before she’d disappeared. It made sense that he would have been considering divorce, but… to hear him say that he would’ve filed for it, for sure, was a little startling. 

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “I wasn’t happy, Soph. It - it wouldn’t have been fair of me to keep trying in a marriage that was… bad for us. I think I even let it go on for too long.” He set the water bottle down on the counter, and then crossed his arms, leaning back against the fridge. Sophie got the impression that he was mostly talking to himself, using her as an excuse to do so. 

“I think it came down to how she left,” Ethan said, quietly. “We were still fighting, when she did. My fault, sort of. I accused her of lying about where she was going, what she’d be doing, and I knew that she was. She didn’t admit it, and I’d already decided that it was her last chance. So when she left, on August 4th, I… I already knew that it was the last time I’d be the one dropping her off at the airport. I started talking to a lawyer the week after, drawing up papers to have ready for when she got back.” 

Sophie didn’t know what to say to that, and so she stayed silent, waiting to see if he had any more to add. He didn’t appear to, because after a moment, his eyes found her, and he smiled a little, before shrugging. 

“So now you’re probably wondering why I responded to having to grieve for her the way I did.”

“No,” Sophie said. “We already talked about that, remember? The first time we had supper together.” He frowned, and she gestured, vaguely. “You did love her. Maybe you didn’t as much, when she went missing, as you once did, but… you did. So you grieved for her. Nothing’s weird about it.” 

Ethan hummed. “You’re right.” He breathed outwards. “Wow. I - well, you’re not the first one I told about the divorce thing. I mentioned it to my mom. She didn’t want me to divorce Mia, but she also said that she just wanted me to be happy, so if I felt that was something I needed to do, then I should.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Still, it’s kind of nice, to admit it to someone else.” 

Sophie thought she understood, and so she nodded in agreement. It really wasn’t news, to know Ethan had thought about divorce, but… it was news to hear he’d gone so far as to get in touch with a lawyer. Sophie imagined, then, that part of his grief had been born of guilt, the same as hers was. Ethan most likely had felt as though he’d been extremely selfish, handling the early stages of setting a divorce in motion just before he learned he’d never even see Mia again. 

She glanced at him. “But you’re okay?” 

“Yeah,” Ethan replied, quietly. “Yeah, I - I think I am.” He blew out a breath. “Am I sad? Of course I am. But I’m also… kind of relieved, because this means I can stop wondering.” He lifted his shoulders a little, and looked at her, brows together. “Is that wrong?” 

It seemed that he was almost searching for reassurance. Sophie didn’t see how she couldn’t give it to him, especially when not doing so made no sense. Why wouldn’t he be relieved, to finally know what had happened, after over two years? 

“No,” Sophie said. “I don’t think so.” 

His expression relaxed a little, and he lowered his gaze again. Sophie watched him for a second, and then she looked away, too. She wanted to say more, but wondered if it was better that she didn’t, especially since she didn’t know what to say. 

After all, she and Ethan had an interesting way of not needing to communicate verbally. She thought it was enough that she was with him. 

This was proven when, after a moment, he seemed to shake himself a little, and he focused on her again. “Did you actually get to eat lunch?” 

“Ah, no. Not really.” Sophie leaned her elbows on the countertop of his kitchen island. “Are you hungry?” 

“I could eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” he decided, turning to reach into one of the cabinets. “Do you want one?” 

Sophie smiled a bit. “Sure,” she said. “Sounds good.”

Notes:

Okay. Hopefully that... was handled well? I did research as to how long a person needs to have been missing before a death certificate can be written up for them, and in Texas, I read that it can take up to ten years, like in the rest of the U.S., unless there's clear evidence that the person who is missing is, in fact, most likely dead, like in the events of a shipwreck. Funny how that was the example the article I read gave, huh?
Also I really just wanted to see more of Ethan's family, which is why we're having New Year's in Washington. I'm hoping no one minds.

Chapter 13: "Yours is adorable, Winters."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Three weeks later, Sophie stepped out of a terminal inside of Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, toting her carry-on in one hand, every day bag she always had with her over the opposite shoulder. It felt lighter than normal without her concealed carry inside of it. Oddly, however, she didn’t feel nearly as exposed without the handgun as she’d expected she might. 

She could feel that the air in Washington was different from that of Texas, lighter itself almost, in a way. It was a bit strange, until she recalled that Washington was home to a larger population that felt the same as she did about most things, and she decided to chalk up the easy breathability of the air to that. To the fact that she was among like-minded people, for the first time in what was very possibly forever. 

She smiled to herself, and moved forward through the airport, wondering where Ethan was. 

She didn’t have to wonder for long; she spotted him in the waiting area for pick-ups, hands in the pockets of the jeans he was wearing, bundled up in the L. A. Kings hoodie she’d given him for Christmas before he’d left for Washington himself, a beanie on his head. He looked younger than she’d ever seen him, and it was kind of adorable. She felt herself being flooded with the warmth of affection at the sight of him, and he grinned when he saw her. She picked up her pace a little, and dropped both her bags just before reaching him, so that she could hug him, wrapping her arms around him and rising up on her toes to rest her chin on his shoulder, eyes closed. 

“Hey,” he greeted, hugging her back. It was probably a little too wonderful to hear his voice in-person instead of through a phone. “How was the flight?”

“I slept through most of it,” she admitted, releasing him. He laughed, and she grinned in response, before turning away to grab her bags again. Ethan beat her to it, slinging her shoulder bag over his, and grabbing her duffle in his other hand. 

“C’mon,” he said. “My dad’s in the pick-up line outside. We had to leave someone with the car if we didn’t want to get a ticket.”

“Your dad came with you?” she asked in surprise. “I thought your mom might have.”

“He’s better at navigating than she is,” Ethan explained, leading the way. 

Sophie stayed close on his heels, not wanting to lose him in the pre-New Year’s flock of airport visitors. She didn’t, thankfully, although she figured it would have been difficult to do so, considering she thought she’d be able to spot him and his silly beanie in a crowd of thousands. 

They eventually pushed their way outside. Sophie shivered a bit in the cold. Ethan noticed, and lifted one eyebrow. “Are you dressed warm enough?”

“I guess not,” she said, and she nodded to the duffle he was carrying. “I have three extra jackets in there.”

“Three?” 

“You said to bring extras.”

“I didn’t really mean three,” Ethan said, “but I appreciate that you wanted to be prepared.” He nodded towards a car. “There’s my dad.”

Andrew Winters was leaning against the front of what looked to be a Subaru Outback. He lifted a hand in greeting, offering Sophie a warm smile as they got closer. 

“Hi, Sophie,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” she responded with a smile of her own.

“We’re glad you decided to come up here,” Andrew said, while Ethan went around to the trunk with her bags. “Rosemary’s thrilled, and so’s Lauren.” 

“I just hope I’m not going to be intruding on any family specific New Year’s things,” Sophie said. 

“Ah, don’t be silly,” Andrew said with a wave of his hand, as he pulled open the passenger side door for her. “We’re happy to have you.” 

Sophie grinned, and nodded, before sliding into the car. Andrew closed the door, and a few moments later, Ethan had sat in the back seat, and he was behind the wheel, starting the Subaru and pulling away from the curb. 

“Why am I in the back?” Ethan asked, sounding grumpy. “I’m almost six feet tall.”

“We don’t make guests sit in the back seat, son,” Andrew informed him. 

“We’re all technically guests,” Ethan grumbled, but Andrew seemed to ignore him, reaching over to turn up the radio. Sophie heard Ethan release a sigh, and she smiled to herself, relaxing back into the seat. 

Ethan’s sister Lauren and her family lived outside of Seattle, but not as far from Seattle’s airport as Waco was from the airport in Dallas. The car ride lasted maybe forty minutes, most of which was spent with Andrew whistling along to the oldies station on the radio, while Ethan leaned forward between the front seats to talk to Sophie about Christmas with her mom. She didn’t have much to tell him, but she appreciated his interest.

Eventually, they pulled into the driveway of a home in a nice neighborhood. Sophie didn’t know much about houses aside from what she’d seen on HGTV, but she thought the one they were at was a craftsman style, with a stone facade on the front and, strangely, a dark blue front door. It was two storeys, and looked like a square, but it was big, and as she got out of the car, she stared up at it, feeling a little guilty for wondering how much a house like this might have cost. 

Ethan joined her, holding her luggage, and she reached to take at least the shoulder bag from him, but he held it away from her. 

“Winters, I want to check my phone,” she said, amused by his insistence to carry both bags. 

“You can in a minute,” Ethan said. “My mother will jump down my throat if I don’t carry your bags for you.” 

“He’s right,” Andrew agreed, locking the Subaru and heading for the front door. Ethan followed, gesturing with his head for Sophie to do the same. She inhaled, and did so. 

The door was unlocked, in preparation for their arrival, no doubt. Andrew held it open, and Ethan nudged Sophie into the house ahead of him. She paused in the foyer, looking around and feeling a bit out of place, at least until she felt Ethan step up behind her again, his presence a welcome one at her back. 

“They’re probably in the kitchen,” Ethan said. “Through here.” 

Beyond the foyer, the house opened up a bit, straight onto the kitchen. Across the way, Sophie caught sight of a dining room, but was quickly distracted by the goings-on in the kitchen before she could get a good look at it. 

“Sophie!” Rosemary Winters greeted happily, moving around the large island in the center of the kitchen to give her a hug. “It’s so good to see you again. Thank you for coming.”

“That sounds like the sort of thing I’m supposed to say,” the blonde woman also in the kitchen, up to her elbows in what looked like dough of some kind, said. “Considering it’s my house and everything.”

“What, I can’t be glad that she’s here?” Rosemary queried, and then she tugged Sophie towards the island. “Sophie, this is Lauren, Ethan’s little sister. In case you couldn’t tell based solely on her attitude.”

Lauren made a face at her mother, but then offered Sophie a beautiful smile of welcome that quickly transformed her face into an almost exact replica of Rosemary’s. “Hi, Sophie,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you. I’d hug you, too, but you’d probably prefer avoiding getting flour all over yourself.”

Sophie laughed. “It’s nice to meet you too,” she said. “Thank you for letting me come.”

“Sure!” Lauren flopped the dough over, and kneaded at it with the heels of her hands. “The way Ethan talks about you, you’d think you were already here.” She then raised her voice to an almost deafening level, one Sophie imagined was learned and achieved only by mothers and teachers: “CHILDREN. COME MEET UNCLE ETHAN’S FRIEND SOPHIE.”

“Right away?” Ethan asked, adjusting his grip on Sophie’s duffle, which he was still holding. “Can’t she have a second to adjust before you release the hooligans on her?”

“The sooner she gets acquainted with them the better,” Lauren said, as feet could be heard thundering down the staircase they’d passed on their way to the kitchen from the foyer. 

A moment later, two children, one boy and one girl, were standing in the kitchen, both with bright blue eyes that they must have inherited from their father, because Lauren had the same brown eyes as her mother and brother. The boy had Lauren’s blond hair, while the girl’s was more gingery than blonde. They both looked at Sophie with expressions of curiosity, but at least it wasn’t distrustful curiosity. 

“Sophie, this is Ian and Alexis,” Lauren said. “Say hi to Sophie.”

“Hi,” Ian greeted, while Alexis lifted one little hand. Sophie smiled at them both, and lifted hers as well. 

“Uncle Ethan was right,” Alexis said, after a moment. 

“About what?” Sophie asked, curious, and Alexis ducked her head shyly, while Ian grinned at her, showing off a missing tooth. 

“He said you were pretty!” 

Sophie’s eyebrows rose, and she heard Ethan inhale sharply from beside her. He coughed, and Rosemary grinned, eyes glittering mischievously. 

“Are you okay?” she asked him, even as she winked at Sophie. 

“Yeah, fine,” Ethan said. “Uh, I’m gonna take Sophie’s things downstairs.” 

“Not my phone,” she informed him, snatching her shoulder bag from him just before he could make his escape. She then looked at Rosemary, as she tugged her cell out of the bag. “He insisted on carrying it for me.”

“Good,” Rosemary said. “He’s retained a bit of the chivalry I tried to raise him with.” 

“More than a bit,” Sophie reassured, “but my mother is probably wondering why it’s taken me so longer to text her.” She sent a quick text to her mother, to let her know she’d arrived safely in Washington. She then put her phone away again, and set her bag down on one of the barstools around the island.

“Can we go back upstairs?” Ian asked, looking at his mother. 

Lauren sighed in a long-suffering sort of way, but Sophie could tell she was joking. “I guess,” she said, and the two turned tail, hurrying back towards the stairs. “Don’t stay up there all day!” Lauren called after them. 

“We won’t!” came the muffled response.

“Children,” Lauren sighed, and Sophie smiled a bit, glancing around the kitchen. 

“Can I help with anything?” 

“Oh, no,” Lauren said at once, while Rosemary shook her head. “I’m just baking bread because it’s one of my hobbies. Everything for tomorrow’s already done.” She smiled at Sophie, as though she were about to share a hidden truth of the universe with her. “Since having children, I’ve learned it’s better to be prepared early, rather than wait until the day of.” 

And that, Sophie supposed, really was a truth of the universe, and a handy one to know. 

“Okay then,” she said. “How was Christmas here?” She didn’t really need to be told, since she and Ethan had already had a lengthy conversation on the phone about it, but it was a good conversation starter. 

“Woof, the same as it always is,” Lauren answered. “Up at six, awake until midnight, even with small children. It turns out that, when they get the presents they wanted for Christmas, they want to be up all night to play with them.” 

“Because they ended up falling asleep in the middle of the day,” Rosemary put in, settling down on one of the barstools herself. 

“Right,” Lauren said. “Which is wonderful for the two hour period that that lasts, but… it’s only two hours.” 

Sophie chuckled. Based on what Ethan had told her, those two hours had not nearly been enough for the adults in the house. 

Ethan returned from wherever he’d disappeared to. He seemed a bit flushed as he stepped up behind Sophie again. “Hey,” he said, “come with me.” 

“Why?” she questioned, glancing back at him. 

“I wanna show you the snowmen we’ve built so far,” Ethan responded. 

Amused, Sophie looked between Lauren and Rosemary. Lauren dumped the dough she’d been kneading into a bowl, while Rosemary lifted her chin a little, an invitation to do as Ethan asked. 

Sophie turned to him again, and had to smile when she saw the genuine look on his face. “Can I get another jacket from my bag, first?” she asked.

“I brought you one,” Ethan said, and held it up. Sophie blinked at it, before huffing out a small laugh, and taking it from him, pulling it on. Ethan then took her hand, and tugged her towards the back door located on one wall of the kitchen. Sophie allowed him to pull her along, glancing back at the two women in the kitchen as they went. She saw Rosemary’s smile, and tried not to wonder why it seemed to indicate she knew something that Sophie herself did not. 

They stepped out onto the back porch. Sophie first spotted the pool in the middle of the yard, surrounded by a fence and covered to protect it from the cold of winter. Moving her eyes away from that, which did take up a large section of backyard real estate, she spotted a pergola, centered over what appeared to be a fire pit, and then beyond that, an array of snowmen. 

“Alarmingly,” Ethan began, “my seven-year-old nephew’s snowman is better than mine.” He stepped off of the porch. “I want to see if you can guess who built which ones.”

Sophie decided this was a challenge she’d like to accept. She allowed him to help her down off the porch, and they headed over to the snowman collection together. Each one was very unique, she decided after looking over the array as a group, before she moved away from Ethan to get a better, closer look at each one. 

After a couple minutes, Ethan said, “Any idea?” 

She pointed to one that was a pretty standard snowman, complete with a scarf, a top hat, and buttons made from dark stones no doubt dug up from beneath the snow. “Did your parents build this one?” 

“Yeah,” Ethan replied. “How’d you guess?” 

“It’s the most… snowman-y,” she replied, and turned to the other three. One was much smaller than the others, and it didn’t take her long to conclude that Alexis must have built it, perhaps with an adult helping with some of the more difficult aspects. The other two, however, were a bit harder to differentiate between. One had a baseball cap on, as well as a pair of sunglasses shoved into the snow in the approximate space the snowman’s eyes would have been, if he had eyes. The other wore a tie, perhaps stolen from Lauren’s husband’s closest, and had a jacket draped around it, stick arms poking out through the sleeves. 

Sophie glanced between the two of them for a moment, taking each one in. Ethan stood behind her, and she thought she could sense him getting a little impatient.

“It can’t be that hard,” he said at last, and Sophie pointed to the one with the sunglasses. 

“You built this one.” 

Ethan seemed surprised. “What gave it away?” 

“You gave it a pair of sunglasses instead of trying to find eyes for it,” Sophie responded. “A very Ethan Winters, the engineer who finds the simplest solutions to problems possible, move.” Ethan snorted, and she grinned, stepping over to him again. “I think they’re all very cute,” she said. 

“Mine’s the cutest though, right?” 

She hummed. “Dunno. I really like the traditional look of your parents’,” she responded, and then laughed when she saw his wounded expression. “Yours is adorable, Winters.” 

“Thank you,” he huffed, sounding genuinely hurt that she’d hadn’t said as much right away. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go back inside. It’s cold out.”

Sophie appreciated the thought, but she had a better idea. 

She bent down as Ethan headed back over to the porch, scooping some snow into her hand. She was pleased by how well it stuck together and formed a ball for her, when she used both hands to do so. She straightened back up, hefted the snowball in her right hand, and threw it. 

"Hey!" Ethan exclaimed, jumping as the snowball splattered against the back of his head. He spun around, fuming, but Sophie barely noticed, bent over, holding her midsection as she cackled. 

"Yeah, haha," she heard Ethan grumble. "Keep laughing."

She did so, and thus didn't notice until it was too late that he'd approached her as well, and grabbed the back of her jacket. 

"No, wait!" she exclaimed, breathless from laughing so hard. She made a vain attempt to twist away from him, managed to free herself from the extra jacket's sleeves with milliseconds to spare. The handful of snow that Ethan had aimed to shove down her back fell back to the ground instead, only a bit of it successfully reaching its destination. Sophie cursed, tugging on the back of her hoodie to get rid of the snow, still grinning. 

"Winters!"

"That's my name," Ethan agreed, rolling another snowball. "I think I'm living up to it rather well, don't you?" 

Sophie was forced to duck down as he threw the snowball in her direction, and she scooped up some snow of her own as she grabbed her jacket before moving around behind the snow-covered playset off to the far side of the pool fence. She leaned back against it, peering around the side of it, but could no longer see him from the angle she now found herself at. She hummed to herself, scooting beneath the plastic slide to get out of any line of fire that Ethan might manage to reach, before she could throw her own snowball. 

"Excuse me?" She yelped when someone knocked on the slide, directly over her head. "Come out and fight!" Ethan goaded. 

"Yeah, right!" Sophie retorted. "You've had a whole week to prepare for this! I don't know the way of the snow!" 

"Get him!" 

"Woah, wait, what is this ambush?" Ethan exclaimed, his voice growing more faint as he moved away from the slide, backed by the sound of a young girl's laughter. Sophie looked around, and saw that Ian was peering under the slide, grinning widely. 

"It's okay, Sophie," he said. "We're gonna help you."

"Oh, my heroes," she replied, returning the grin, and took the gloved hand he held out to her, allowing him to pull her out from beneath the slide and back out into the open. 

"Mut'ny!" Alexis said, still giggling, and Sophie saw that she was hiding behind Ethan's leg, where the two of them had appeared to claim the high ground of the porch. 

“Lexi, you were supposed to be on our side!” Ian exclaimed, and his younger sister stuck out her tongue in response. Ian huffed, and crossed his arms. "We can't throw snow at the porch, Mom said so," he said. 

"That's fine," Ethan said, and he pitched a snowball. Sophie tugged Ian out of the line of fire, pulling him back behind the playset. "You won't be throwing snowballs, because we're gonna take you down!" 

"We gotta get them off the porch," Sophie said to Ian, crouching down. 

"Yeah," Ian agreed, joining her. "How do we do that?" 

Sophie used her finger to draw some shapes in the snow, outlining what the layout of the backyard was. "We're here," she said, pointing to the triangle she'd drawn to represent the playset. She began to draw arrows into the snow as well, to map out movement. "You run out on this side, to get their attention, and I'll come up over here and take out your uncle." 

"Alexis'll see you coming and tell him," Ian said with a shake of his head. He drew an arrow of his own, to indicate a different possible movement plan. "If we go like this -"

"Yeah, I see what you're saying," Sophie said, considering the map. "Okay. Grab some snow." 

Ian did so, two gloved fistfuls of the stuff, in fact. Sophie did the same, and stood. "Kamikaze," she said. "I'm going out there."

"Uncle Ethan will chase you," Ian said, his cheeks pink with exhilaration and cold. "And then I'll be able to get Lexi off the porch."

"Sounds good," Sophie said. "Good luck, partner." 

"You too," Ian replied, and Sophie stepped out into the open again, only to have to duck almost immediately as a snowball made its way towards her head. She sent a playful scowl in Ethan's direction. He'd stepped down off the porch, to be able to access the snow, but Alexis was holding strong on the porch itself, looking ready to defend it the same way a mother cat might defend her kittens. 

"Coward!" Sophie taunted Ethan. "Afraid to come out and face me in the yard like a man?" 

"You're the one who hid behind a slide," Ethan retorted, but he took a step towards her, rolling up another snowball. "Why don't you come over here?" 

"Because we're not allowed to throw snow on the porch," Sophie told him. "Your sister said so. I'm just tryin' to respect the rules of my host." 

Ethan threw his new snowball, and Sophie sidestepped to avoid it, before calmly repositioning her stance, hands behind her back. 

"Come on," she teased. "We can't have a one-sided snowball fight." 

Ethan studied her for a moment longer, before he turned around to speak to Alexis. Sophie leaned back, so that she could peer behind the playset and make eye contact with Ian. She offered him a small nod, which he returned, and then turned back around, ready to sprint out from the other side of the playset towards the porch. 

"Fine," Ethan said, after a moment. He moved further away from the porch, bending down to gather more snow as he did so. 

"Great, thank you," Sophie said. "Now c'mere."

"That's not how a snowball fight works," Ethan said with a laugh. "I'm not coming over there just so you can dump snow down the back of my jacket!"

"That isn't what I'm gonna do," Sophie said. "Seriously. I wanna parlay."

"We're not pirates."

"Says who?" 

Ethan sighed, but took a few more steps towards her, holding up the snowball he'd rolled. 

"I'm about to throw this into your face," he said. "Are you ready?" 

"You sure your aim's good enough for that?" Sophie asked, tilting her head. "Maybe you should get just a little bit closer, to make sure you actually hit me." 

"Mhm. Hey, Soph, what've you got behind your back?" Ethan queried. 

"What? Nothin’," she replied. 

"Why're you holding your hands behind you like that, then?" Ethan asked. 

Sophie decided it was now or never. She quickly brought her hands out in front of her, and threw her fistfuls of snow into Ethan's face. He spluttered, dropping his own snowball in the process. She then charged him, hollering, and tackled him to the ground, straddling his waist and holding his arms up above his head with one hand while she grabbed more snow with the other, and pressed it into his face. 

"Give!" she shouted, while Ethan twisted beneath her, trying to free his wrists. "Give, Winters!" 

"Never!" Ethan managed around his faceful of snow, and Sophie felt him hook his own leg around the back of hers, before he used his heavier upper body to flip her over, so that she was the one with her back in the snow instead, her hand still gripping the sleeves of his hoodie to hold his wrists together, which brought her arm between the two of them in a rather painful position as he straddled her instead. 

"Give," Ethan mocked. 

"No," Sophie retorted, tightening her grasp within the sleeves of his jacket, despite the warm flush of pain she was feeling in her shoulder, now. Her free hand scooped up more snow as she glared at him. "Let me up."

"Not 'til you give," Ethan said. "Say it." 

"Eat snow!" Sophie exclaimed, and threw some into his face. Ethan shook his head, but his position above her did not waver, although she was able to sit up a bit, using his arms as leverage to haul herself upright, until they were practically nose-to-nose, their frozen breaths rising between them as white puffs. 

"Let me up," Sophie repeated, voice lowered, although probably not to the warning growl she was hoping for. 

Ethan didn't respond, his eyes locked on hers, and for a very long moment, Sophie was certain he was about to close the rest of the distance between them, and kiss the life out of her. That was what she wanted to do to him, so she wouldn't have been bothered by the action, was actually wondering how best to encourage it when a snowball sailed towards them, and splattered against Ethan's shoulder. 

"Ouch," he said, breaking the moment as he turned away from her to see where the snowball had come from. "Hey!" 

"As if I'm going to let the two of you fight the kids on their own!" Andrew Winters retorted, and Sophie turned her own head to see that Ethan's father had stepped outside as well, and was flanked on both sides by his grandchildren. She recalled what it was they'd been doing, and quickly shoved Ethan off of her, rising to her feet. 

"Ian, you traitor!" she said, offering him a grin to show she was only teasing. 

"I pick and choose my battles!" Ian responded bravely, and threw a snowball at her. Sophie could have avoided it easily, but allowed it to hit her, and she staggered sideways into Ethan, who'd stood up as well. 

"Ugh, he got me," she moaned, grabbing his arm, as though she desperately needed his support to remain standing. "I don't think... I can go on."

"Don't leave me to a three-on-one," Ethan said, playing along. He wrapped an arm around her waist to support her. "I won't survive without you." 

Sophie tried not to let the impact that these words had on her, even said in play, show too much. Instead, she inhaled, sharply. "Okay," she said, and stepped away from him, bending down to grab some snow. She glanced up, and met his eyes. "Let's do this."

Notes:

Apologies that this is a bit later than normal. I've been busy all day moving into my first apartment, which is... not fun, considering how hot it is where I live.
Anyway, fun times in Washington! Sophie and Ethan really need to have a conversation about their sexual/romantic tension, huh?

Chapter 14: "Happy New Year, Ethan."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Later that evening, Sophie sat on the already-made pull-out couch in the basement of the craftsman, huddled into a warm comforter and reading the book she’d brought with her to Washington. The snowball fight and other snow-based activities had gone on late into the afternoon, until Rosemary had come to the backdoor and insisted they all come inside before they froze to death. The children had been ushered upstairs by their mother to take warm showers and change out of their wet clothing, and Sophie had been free to go change as well, while Ethan and Andrew were roped into helping Rosemary with supper. When Sophie had returned upstairs, Lauren’s husband David was home, and they’d exchanged introductions just before they were instructed to settle down in the dining room to eat. Supper consisted of homemade tacos and enchiladas, of all things. It was delicious. 

Now, about three hours later, Sophie was showered as well, and still feeling the remnants of guilt about how much hot water she’d ended up using without really meaning to. The children had long since been put to bed, Lauren and David following shortly behind. The other four adults had lingered in the main floor living room for a little while after that, chatting absently about nothing in particular, although Sophie hadn’t missed the way Rosemary’s eyes had drifted more than once to where she and Ethan had been sitting beside one another on one of the couches, and the way she’d smiled a little whenever Sophie had taken over the conversation, no doubt due to the way that Ethan listened with his full attention each time. Sophie had noticed this about him long ago, and decided it was simply his good manners. 

She snuggled deeper under the comforter, adjusting herself back against the pillows on the pull-out, which she’d said she was perfectly fine with sleeping on, despite Ethan’s protestations. She refused to let him give up the bedroom in the basement, which he’d been using the entirety of his visit, especially when she’d only be spending two nights in Washington. It was a little ridiculous of him to have even offered. 

She glanced up from her book when she heard steps coming down the stairs into the basement, and watched as Ethan appeared a moment later, holding two mugs. He came over to join her on the pull-out, settling down on the other side and handing her one of the mugs. She accepted it with both hands, breathing in the warm steam that rose off of the hot chocolate. 

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. 

“You’re welcome,” Ethan replied, relaxing back against the pillows as well. “Just don’t tell Lauren. We’re not supposed to drink hot chocolate after nine. It sets a bad example for the welfare of teeth and health, or something like that.”

Sophie chuckled, and took a ginger sip of the hot chocolate, so that she wouldn’t burn her tongue. The rule made sense, coming from a father who was a dentist, and a mother who had been a nurse, and would be again, once the kids were older. According to what Lauren herself had told her over supper. 

She and Ethan sat in their normal comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping their hot chocolate, not needing to speak to one another, which Sophie adored. The fact that all they had to do was be in each other’s presence in order to feel as though they were doing something fulfilling was still crazy to her. She wondered if it was the same for him; it had to be, or else he would’ve stopped doing this sort of thing with her a long time ago. 

Finally, he spoke up: “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in the real bed?” he asked, and Sophie rolled her eyes. 

“I don’t want to sleep in the real bed.”

“Because you can have it if you want it,” Ethan told her. 

“As you’ve said several times now,” Sophie replied, taking another drink of hot chocolate. It had cooled down enough that she felt comfortable swallowing larger mouthfuls. “But no, Ethan, that’d be silly. You’ve been here almost two weeks, and I’ll be here for two nights. I’m not taking the bed from you for that.”

Ethan sighed. “Fine,” he mumbled, and took another drink from his own mug. He glanced at her book. “What’re you reading?” She held it up to show him, and he smiled. “Getting started already, huh?”

“Well, I did need a new book to read,” she said. “Which you knew.” He’d given her the full set of the five books of the A Song of Ice and Fire series that Game of Thrones was based on. She’d never read the books, despite being a fan of the TV show. Ethan had been startled to learn this, mostly because of his stereotype that librarians had read every book known to man that she still could not break him of, a year plus some into their friendship. 

“Do you like it?” Ethan asked. 

“Yeah,” she replied. “Although… I’m glad they apparently made the characters older in the show than they are in the books.” She gestured to the page she had the book open to. “Sansa’s actually eleven? I thought thirteen was horrifying enough.” 

He chuckled. “It’s rough.”

They fell into silence again, and after a few more minutes, Sophie finished her mug of hot chocolate, shortly after Ethan had finished his. He held his hand out for it, and she passed it over again, watching as he stood and headed up the stairs. He returned to the basement shortly, after she’d visited the bathroom to brush her teeth, and he lingered at the foot of the pull-out for a moment. 

“Good night,” he said, finally. 

“Good night, Winters,” Sophie responded with a smile. “I had fun today.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, and smiled as well. “Yeah, so did I. And I think the kids did, too. And my dad, which is weird.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m glad you’re here, Soph.”

“I’m glad you invited me,” she told him. 

He nodded, and lowered his hand again. “Well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay,” Sophie said, and looked back down at her book. 

She heard Ethan walk away, and then the door to the bathroom click shut. She exhaled, and scooted down a little to cuddle better under the comforter, and tried to return her attention to the book. 

A half-hour later, she estimated, her eyes began to grow heavy. She yawned, and slid her “Fuck Off I’m Reading” bookmark (also a gift from Ethan) into the book, and then set it on the table beside the couch, before reaching over to turn the light off. She tugged off her glasses, which she’d put on after showering, and set them on top of the book, before snuggling down onto the pull-out, exhaling as she rested her head on two of the pillows, and she tried to relax enough to be able to get to sleep. 

Another half-hour later, she’d rolled over back and forth about eight times, trying to find the best possible position to actually be able to sleep on the pull-out, to no avail. Her eyes opened in the darkness of the basement, and she sighed a little, sitting up again. She reached over to turn the light back on, and had to swallow back a yelp when, the moment she did, she spotted Ethan standing in the doorway of the basement’s bedroom, the hair on one side of his head standing up, as though he’d been sleeping on it until only a few minutes prior. 

“What the fuck, Winters?” she demanded, keeping her voice low, despite the fact that her heart was thundering along inside her chest from the scare he’d given her. 

“Sorry,” he said, and the light in the bedroom came on as he flipped the switch, “but I’ve been listening to you tossing around out here for awhile, and I decided to come make sure you were okay.”

Sophie stared at him for a moment, before letting out a laugh. “Your sister and her husband are fantastic,” she said, and then gestured around her, “but their pull-out fuckin’ sucks.”

“Which is why I wanted you to take the bed,” Ethan explained. “No one ever sleeps on the pull-out because it sucks.” 

“Well, I’m not makin’ you sleep on it,” Sophie told him, standing. “I’ll just make a bed on the floor. No big deal.”

“Don’t,” Ethan said, and she glanced at him again. He stepped out of the way of the bedroom door, and tilted his head towards it. “Come sleep in here.”

“What? No, Ethan, you’re sleeping in there.”

His expression didn’t shift. “I know,” he said. “And you are, too.”

Sophie blinked at him, probably seeming incredibly intelligent while it took her brain five seconds longer than it had for her body to process exactly what he’d just said. When it had, she said, “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” he answered. “Just don’t kick me, or anything, and it’ll be fine.” He smirked. “Although, if you did, I’d just kick back, so.” 

Sophie reminded herself that she’d already asked if he was sure, and thus it made no sense to ask again. Instead, she shifted her weight from foot to foot for a moment, wondering if accepting was a bad decision, or if standing before him and not saying anything at all was worse. 

“Sophie,” Ethan said, and she looked at him. “It’s almost midnight. Please, if you care about me at all, you’ll come sleep in the damn bedroom so that we can both actually get some sleep.” 

Sophie sighed. “Fine,” she said. She grabbed her book and glasses from off the table, as well as one of the pillows from off the pull-out. She turned out the lamp again, then scooted past him into the bedroom. She examined the bed for a moment, noticing how the covers on only one side of it appeared to have been disturbed. It seemed that Ethan had trained himself to sleep on only one side of a bed, after having shared one with Mia for years. This thought caused further apprehension to tighten the muscles in Sophie’s shoulders and back, and they stayed that way, just as she stayed where she’d paused inside the bedroom, until Ethan stepped up behind her, and his hand touched the small of her back. 

“You good?” he asked softly, and she nodded. 

“Yeah,” she said, and then stepped around the bed to the side that wasn’t disturbed, plopping the pillow she’d grabbed on top of the one that was already there, and set down her book and glasses on the nightstand. She then pulled back the blanket, and sat down on the edge of the bed, before glancing over her shoulder when she felt the mattress dip behind her. Ethan had already crawled beneath the blanket completely, and was holding himself up on his elbows, watching her, one eyebrow raised in what she thought was a mixture of amusement and confusion. 

“Are you sure you’re good?” he questioned. 

“Yes,” Sophie said, with feeling, and she laid down properly, settling down on her side facing away from him. After a moment, she heard him shut off the light on the nightstand closest to him, and then he laid down as well. 

“Good night, again,” she heard him say. 

“Night,” Sophie replied, quietly, and then silence descended in the room. 

She lay with her eyes open in the dark for what was an embarrassingly long amount of time after that, tensing at every movement that came from behind her. She didn’t know why she was so worried about sleeping in the same bed as Ethan; they were adults, and they were close friends. It wasn’t as though they were total strangers, and they were sharing the bed completely platonically, just so that they could get some sleep, like Ethan had said. 

So she just needed to relax, and actually get to sleep, because otherwise the whole venture would be completely pointless after all. 

She forced her eyes to close, and breathed outwards through her mouth, pushing the tension out of her muscles along with it, as best she could. 

She thought she was managing to drift off when she was startled awake by more movement from behind her, as Ethan shifted on the bed. A moment later, she felt his hand brush against her back, moving up her spine to rub between her shoulder blades. 

“Go to sleep,” Ethan whispered from behind her, fingers drawing soothing circles along her back. Had he really felt her tension through the damn mattress and decided to take it upon himself to rub it out of her? 

“I was tryin’, until you rolled over,” she grumbled. 

He chuckled, the sound tinged with sleepiness, and the tightness he’d already successfully managed to help rid her of came rushing back when there was more movement from behind her, and suddenly he was there, his chest pressed along her back, his arm falling around her waist. Sophie was absolutely certain she was about to spontaneously combust, until his arm squeezed around her waist, and she felt his nose brush the back of her neck. 

“Better?” he murmured, and how could he possibly imagine this was better?

But it was, she realized, noting how, as she adjusted to having him this close, her body seemed to welcome the fact that his was pressed along behind her, one of his ankles hooking over hers beneath the covers, his hand safely over the top of the shirt she was wearing, resting against her stomach. She was relaxing, despite herself, and she knew Ethan could feel it, too, because he hummed quietly. 

“Yeah, thought so,” he said, and then, at least, he moved his head away. She no longer felt his nose against the back of her neck, although his arm stayed around her waist, his ankle stayed hooked over hers, and his body stayed where it was along the length of hers. “Now go to bed, for the love of God.”

“Bite me,” she muttered in response, but all the same found herself rooting under the covers for his hand, and she found it after a moment. She hesitated, once her fingers had brushed his, but Ethan snorted, quietly, and then their hands were joining, his fingers folding over in the gaps between hers. 

And, at last, the last bit of tension within her dissipated, and she let her eyes fall shut as she relaxed back into him with a soft sigh. 

***

“Ten minutes!” Lauren called, startling Sophie, who’d been watching Ethan without really noticing that she was. She blinked, and turned her head to look at his sister instead, finding that Lauren had left the living room and returned with a platter of champagne glasses. 

“Champagne?” David asked his wife, as he took one.

“We have a guest this year,” Lauren said, holding the tray out towards Sophie. She smiled a little, and took one of the glasses as well. “I figured we could have one glass at midnight.” 

“I could have two,” Dave murmured once she’d moved on, taking the tray over to her parents instead. Sophie chuckled, and looked at Ethan again. 

They hadn’t spoken about the way they’d finally gotten to sleep the night before, with him spooning her, nor had they spoken about how they’d woken up in practically the same position as they had been when they’d fallen asleep. Sophie had woken up before him, and she’d let herself lay where she was in his arms, wondering if it was just a fleeting thing, to spend the night curled up next to him, or if it was something she could look forward to more of, in the new year. He’d stirred behind her about ten minutes after she’d opened her eyes, and for a brief moment, they’d stayed where they were. The arm he’d had around her waist had even tightened its hold, as though he’d worried that she’d try to pull away, knowing he was awake. 

But then he’d rolled away, first, and gotten out of bed, and Sophie was left alone, knowing for certain that the new year would hold no changes at all. 

The new year that was, apparently, now only ten minutes away. Less than that, even, since at least two had passed between Lauren returning from the kitchen, Sophie lamenting about her and Ethan’s sleeping position, and Lauren settling back down on the couch next to her husband. On the TV, the family’s countdown to the New Year program of choice was playing, but Sophie had barely noticed any of what had gone on during it, instead focused mostly on Ethan, and on the fact that he hadn’t once seemed to look in her direction in return. 

Which was frustrating as well as disarming, because why wasn’t he looking at her? He’d been the one to spoon her. Did he somehow blame her for it? And why was he blaming her? Nothing had happened; in fact, she’d slept excellently, and considering the fact that they hadn’t moved throughout the night, she had to imagine that Ethan had as well. 

Maybe that was what bothered him. He didn’t like that they’d slept so well next to one another - no, cuddled with one another was the better way of phrasing that, the appropriate way. They hadn’t just shared a bed, and they hadn’t just slept beside one another either. They’d slept together, without actually… well, sleeping together. 

She rolled her eyes to herself. She was so stupid. 

They hadn’t had sex, which would have probably been the only thing to have made the whole situation just that much more intimate than it had already been. 

“Five minutes,” Rosemary said from where she was sitting beside Andrew, both holding champagne glasses. Andrew looked ready to go to bed, his eyes half-closed already. Sophie supposed it got harder to stay up later as you grew older, the same as it was when you were young. 

“Anyone want anything from the kitchen?” Ethan asked, standing up from where he’d been seated alone in the room’s arm chair. 

“Why didn’t you ask me to get whatever it is you want when I went in there for the champagne?” Lauren asked her brother, who shrugged. 

“I didn’t know I wanted it,” he said, and then stepped past where Sophie was sitting with Lauren and David on the couch, heading for the kitchen. She watched him disappear around the corner, and waited about thirty seconds, before setting down her glass of champagne as well and standing. 

“Where’re you going?” Lauren asked. “Why is everyone getting up and leaving all of a sudden?”

“Sorry,” Sophie said. “I need to use the restroom.” 

“Well, hurry up,” Lauren said. “You’re gonna miss it.”

“You can’t miss midnight, Lauren,” Dave commented, having drunk half his glass of champagne already. “It happens for everyone, wherever they are.”

“You know what I mean,” she said, frowning at him. 

Sophie wasn’t paying attention. She was exiting the living room, with every intention of going after Ethan. However, when she stepped into the kitchen, which was where he’d said he’d gone, she found it empty, the lights off. She frowned to herself, looking around the room, and then noticed the porchlight was on, and that Ethan was standing outside, his hands in his pockets, head tilted back as he examined the sky. 

She lingered for a moment in the kitchen, debating with herself, before her shoulders fell, and she turned, ready to head back to the living room. She halted, however, when she found Rosemary behind her. 

“Yikes,” she said, startled, and then she placed a hand over her heart. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Rosemary said, although she didn’t sound it. She looked past Sophie’s shoulder towards where Ethan was visible through the back door, and then back at her. “Where are you going?” 

“Back to the living room,” Sophie said. “I… don’t need to go to the restroom after all.” Rosemary merely raised an eyebrow, and Sophie found herself fiddling with her bracelet, unwilling to meet her eyes. “We’ll miss midnight.”

“Ethan’s going to, unless someone goes outside and gets him,” Rosemary commented. “I figured that was what you were actually doing, when you followed after him like a puppy, instead of going in the direction of the bathroom.” Sophie chewed on her lower lip, and listened as Rosemary crossed her arms. “Sophie, do you care for my son?” 

“Of course I do,” Sophie said at once, and when Rosemary didn’t say anything, she winced. “He’s… I’d say he’s my best friend.”

“You’d like for him to be more than that, though, wouldn’t you?” Rosemary queried, and it was Sophie’s turn not to reply. “You realize that he cares for you, too, don’t you?” 

“Not… not like that,” Sophie said. “Not so soon after he lost Mia, and maybe never.” 

“Sophie, that’s foolish of you, and you know it,” Rosemary said. “You both need to have a conversation about this.” Sophie glanced up, and Rosemary nodded towards where Ethan was outside. “Although, maybe not outside, when it’s negative five degrees out. I suggest tomorrow on the plane back to Texas.” 

“Rosemary -”

“Tick tock, Sophie,” Ethan’s mother said, lightly, turning back around. “Two minutes to midnight.” 

Sophie watched her walk off back towards the living room, and then she sighed to herself, and turned to face the back door. She approached it, and pulled it open, poking her head outside. 

“Winters,” she said, and he glanced over his shoulder. She managed a smile. “I know that you’re deeply connected to your name, but standing outside two minutes to midnight in late December is a surefire way of catching hypothermia, so… come back inside.” 

Ethan smiled a bit, which was a relief. “Sorry,” he said. “Just wanted some fresh air.” 

Sophie heard hollering from the living room, specifically Lauren’s voice: “One minute! Where are they?” 

She offered Ethan a pointed look, and he seemed to get it, because he turned fully and joined her in the kitchen. 

“No,” he said, when she’d closed the back door, and started to move around him, to return to the living room. He caught her hand in his, which turned her towards him. She frowned a little, and he glanced past her towards the hall, before meeting her eyes. “I don’t really want them to see this.”

“See what?” Sophie asked, although she felt her heart pick up speed in her chest as she took in his expression. Somewhere behind her, lost along with her general sense of awareness of everything that wasn’t strictly herself and Ethan, a group of people began to countdown. 

“Fifteen! Fourteen! Thirteen! Twelve!”

Ethan adjusted his grip on her hand, until their fingers were folded together in the intimate handhold that they never really used. She didn’t miss the way that his eyes darted between hers, nor the fact that the gray ring around his light brown irises was much wider than it usually was, indicating his distress. 

“Eleven! Ten! Nine! Eight!” 

“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly, and Sophie’s heart sank. “I just...” He trailed off, but Sophie didn't think she needed to hear any more. 

“Seven! Six! Five! Four!”

She let out a quiet breath. “That’s okay,” she whispered, resting her free hand against his chest, eyes falling to the bracelet she wore around that wrist. “I’m sorry, too.” 

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” 

Sophie swallowed, and glanced up to meet his eyes again. She forced a smile, and leaned up a little, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Happy New Year, Ethan.”

“Happy New Year,” he replied, after a moment, and she pulled her hand from his, just before Rosemary poked her head around the corner, into the kitchen. 

“What’re you two doing in here?” she asked. 

“I didn’t want to get whacked in the face when Lauren threw out her arms the way she always does when the ball drops,” Ethan answered, which Sophie was thankful for, because she didn’t have an excuse. “Can we go to bed now? Soph and I have an early flight.”

“Fine, sour pants,” Rosemary said, glancing at Sophie, who did not meet her eyes. “Let’s say goodnight.” 

“Thank you,” Ethan said, and scooted past her into the hall. Rosemary followed him, after a moment, leaving Sophie to linger in the kitchen. She reached out to grip the edge of the island, and closed her eyes, fighting back a wave of tears that she had no right to. 

Notes:

... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Chapter 15: “And you are my best friend.”

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Things didn’t change, after that, which was honestly the second-to-worst thing that could have happened, in Sophie’s opinion. She and Ethan flew back to Texas (they did not have the conversation that Rosemary suggested they have), they shared a ride back to Waco, and things returned to normal. Sophie tried not to think too hard about what might have changed, had both she and Ethan been willing to let it, but found herself laying awake at night, staring up at the dark ceiling of her bedroom, wondering. 

January turned to February, February opened a door onto March, and March slowly turned to April, which dove into May, then May became June, and June July. Time passed, and Sophie and Ethan remained the same. They had supper together, they hung out with one another in their spare time, they watched hockey games and talked about A Song of Ice and Fire and started watching Game of Thrones . Things didn’t change. 

Things remained so unchanged that when, one evening in July, she found herself still at Ethan’s apartment past eleven, which was very late for them, she was incredibly alarmed. 

“Oh, shit, I gotta get home,” she said, sitting up. They’d gotten very invested in season five of Game of Thrones, and lost track of time. 

Ethan hummed partially in question, and partially out of sleepiness. He sat up as well, yawning, and reached for the remote to pause the show, before glancing at his watch. He winced when he saw the time. 

“Yikes,” he said, and then he looked at her. “Anywhere to be tomorrow?”

“No,” she said, after thinking about it. “Why?” 

He shrugged. “Just stay here,” he suggested. When Sophie blinked at him, he added, “In the guest room.” 

“Oh.” She relaxed a little, and considered it. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d borrowed his clothes, and she’d just head straight home in the morning. She really didn’t feel like driving back to her apartment, since it was so late. She nodded. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Ethan replied, standing. “I’ll get you some clothes to sleep in.” 

He walked off down the hall leading to the bedrooms, and Sophie reached up to run her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t remembered season five being as riveting as it had been, but she supposed there was something to watching a show with someone who was viewing it for the very first time. That had been the most thrilling part of rewatching Game of Thrones: seeing Ethan’s reactions, and feeling them secondhand, as though she were watching the show for the first time again too. 

She smiled a little to herself, and then glanced over when Ethan’s phone vibrated, from where it sat on the edge of the coffee table. She started to reach for it, to check whatever the notification was, but then decided not to, and drew her hand back again. 

“Ethan, I think you got an email or something,” she called to him. 

“An email?” He reappeared from the hallway, holding a bundle of clothing, which he passed to her as he sat down on the couch, reaching for the phone himself. Sophie sorted through the clothing, which was a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, before looking at him again. She was startled to see that the color had drained from his face.

“Ethan? Are you all right?” 

He mouthed wordlessly, staring at the screen of his cell phone. Sophie hesitated a moment, and then reached out and pried the phone from his fingers to see for herself what had shocked him so badly. 

There was an email pulled up on the screen. Sophie felt her stomach clench when she saw the name of the sender was saved into Ethan’s contacts. The email itself contained only three lines. 

To: Ethan Winters

From: Mia Winters

Dulvey, Louisiana.

Baker farm.

Come get me. 

Sophie shoved away her panic, and peered at the email, wondering how likely it was that it had actually come from Mia’s email account. Her name saved into Ethan’s phone, attached to the email address, was pretty indicative that it was her account, the one she’d used. All the same, there was a high chance that someone other than Mia had accessed the account, and sent the email… but to what end? To get a rise out of Ethan? Convince him to go to Louisiana? For what? He hadn’t mentioned Mia more than maybe three times in the seven months that had passed since getting her death certificate in the mail, although she didn’t know if that was to protect her own feelings after his rejection on New Year’s, or because he saw no need to. 

Until now, though, she supposed. Dammit.  

Sophie glanced over at Ethan. He was already looking at her, the gray ring around the brown of his eyes having almost completely taken over, showing signs of his confusion and concern. She struggled to figure out how to reassure him, and decided that going through her own thought process aloud for him was probably the best way. 

“Ethan, this can’t… you know that this couldn’t have been her, don’t you?” she asked, keeping her tone gentle. 

Ethan blinked a few times. “But it’s from her account.” 

Sophie exhaled. “I know,” she said, “but anyone could have gotten access to it, and sent the email to you. I don’t know who would want to do that, or why they want you to go to Louisiana, but… Ethan, you can’t trust this.” 

“It’s - it could be from her, though,” Ethan insisted. 

“Ethan -“ 

“No, it - Sophie, there was never any evidence that she had died,” Ethan said, standing. He began to pace in front of the couch, running his hand through his hair. “I never actually - she was just declared dead, because the ship went missing . She disappeared with it, and then they didn’t find her, when they found the wreck. If she’s been at this farm all this time…”

Sophie stood up as well, wanting to get him to see reason. “Ethan, think about it,” she said, almost reaching out to grab his arms, but she managed to hold herself back. “Why would she email you now, after all this time? After she had to have assumed you thought she was dead? Why would she willingly do that to you?” 

Ethan frowned at her. “She needs help. She wants me to come get her, she said so, and it - I have to help. It’s my job, she’s my wife.”

“You know Mia,” Sophie said, trying a different route, and deciding it was probably smarter of her not to point out that the two of them were no longer legally married, considering the declaration of Mia’s death. Or the fact that Ethan had admitted to wanting to divorce Mia before she’d gone missing. “Has she ever sent you an email like that? Three lines? Weird grammar? No sign off?” 

Ethan opened his mouth, as though he planned to argue, but then it closed again. Sophie gingerly reached out and touched his wrist. “It wasn’t her,” she said. “Or if it was, she was forced into writing it, which means we need to call the police, and send them to this farm instead.”

Ethan stared at her for a long moment. Sophie stared back, not taking her eyes from him, willing him to agree with her. She knew him, knew how he would have reacted, had she not been there to talk some sense into him. It had to have been providence that she was, at eleven o’clock at night, when the email had shown up. She was meant to be there, to stop him from going. 

So, her heart sank when he turned his gaze away, and took a step back. “I have to go,” he insisted. “I’m the only person she has.” 

“But Ethan, you don’t owe her anything,” Sophie said, fully desperate, now. “Your marriage ended when the state declared her dead. She was gone. You’d accepted that she was gone.”

“And now she might not be,” Ethan said, his voice tight with anger. She’d never heard it that way before. “You want me to ignore this email, from my wife, who I might be able to help? Who’s asking me to help, despite everything?”

“Not - not ignore it,” Sophie said. “Just… let someone who’s better equipped figure it out.” She fiddled with her bracelet. “Please, Ethan. Don’t - don’t do something stupid like go to this farm on your own. I can’t -” She stopped herself, and amended, “You can’t risk it like that. It might not have been her. There’s a huge chance it wasn’t her.” 

“And if it was?” Ethan demanded. 

“Then the police will be able to help,” Sophie retorted. “Ethan, what if you go, and you - something happens to you? It turns out that it was just a ruse? What if someone took Mia, and they’re crazy, and she told them about you, and after they killed her, they decided they wanted to kill you, too, in some … I don’t know, endless love situation? There are freaks out there who’d do something like that.” 

“Sophie, it’s Mia,” Ethan said. “I have to go to her.” 

“But I’m trying to tell you that there’s a good chance it might not be,” Sophie admonished, getting a bit angry herself, now. Why wouldn’t he listen? “Think about it reasonably.”

“You want reason? Fine.” Ethan crossed his arms. “She was missing for almost three years. The boat she was on was found washed up in a Louisiana bayou, near this Dulvey place. No one ever found her body, but she was declared dead because everyone else on board that they could find was dead. Now, I get an email from her account, saying she’s in Louisiana, at a farm in Dulvey, and wants me to come find her.” He shook his head. “I can’t ignore it, Soph. I have to go see, and I have to go myself. She sent the email to me because she had no other options, which means I don’t, either.” 

Sophie gazed at him. She could see that his resolve had settled in, and she knew that there was no talking him out of it, now. Him and his desire to help everybody that he could. 

She inhaled, sharply. 

“Fine,” she said, and then turned to retrieve her bag from where it was on the floor beside the couch. “Then I’m coming with you.”

Ethan scoffed. “Are you crazy?” 

“Are you?” Sophie demanded, whipping around to face him again. “You think I’d let you go alone? No. If you’re insisting on doing this yourself, then you’re taking me with you.” She pulled her pistol out of her purse, to make sure it was loaded, even though she knew that it was. She held it up for him to see. “A farm in Louisiana? No chance you’re going without some safety precautions in place, and if a Texan who knows how to use a gun is the only one you’re willing to take, then that’s just how it’s gonna be.” 

“Sophie, I’m not taking you with me, and definitely not willingly,” Ethan said. “What if you get hurt?”

“What if you do?” she queried, flatly, and returned her gun to her bag. She’d strap its holster around her waist when they got to the farm. “You can’t use that excuse on me if I can’t use it on you.”

“Mia was my wife.”

“And you are my best friend,” Sophie snapped. “Now stop arguing and let’s go, if that’s what we’re doing.” 

Ethan frowned at her for a moment, and then glanced at his watch, checking the time. 

“We should get a few hours of sleep, first,” he said, after a moment. “We’re going to have to drive there, and there’s no way I trust myself to drive right now.”

At last, some reasonable talk out of him. “Okay,” she agreed. She pulled out her phone, to map out the distance between Waco and Dulvey. “It’s about six hours. If we leave here by seven -”

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “Yeah, that’s - that’s a good idea. I’ll need to take off work.” He scrubbed a hand through the hair on the back of his head, eyes closing for a moment. “Fuck.” 

Despite herself, Sophie suddenly felt bad for him, and decided she wanted to reassure him. She reached over, and rested her hand on his thigh. “Ethan.” He opened his eyes again, and looked at her. “Everything’s going to be fine, okay? You’re not in this alone.” 

The gray in his eyes receded a little. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. Thanks, Soph.”

She nodded, once, and pulled her hand back again. “Let’s try to get some sleep,” she said. “I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be a lot, one way or another.” 

“Right,” Ethan agreed, and he stood. “Not that I’m actually going to manage to get any sleep, but.”

There was a moment of silence, wherein he lingered where he stood, and Sophie blinked at the TV, which still showed the paused episode of Game of Thrones. It lasted only about three seconds, although she knew for a fact that they’d both immediately thought the same thing: they’d slept almost perfectly when they’d slept together, last December in Washington. 

Ethan broke the moment by reaching down for the remote again, and turning the TV off. “I’ll be up at six-thirty,” he said. 

“Me too,” she promised. “And Winters?”

“Hm?”

She waited until he turned to look at her. “It’s going to be fine,” she said again, once he had. 

She watched him inhale. “I hope so,” he said, quietly, and then disappeared down the hall once more. Sophie remained where she was on the couch for another minute, before she reached over to turn off the table lamp beside the couch, plunging the room into darkness. 

***

They left at seven the following morning, the way they’d said they would. Sophie had managed to get some sleep, and she thought that Ethan might have as well, because he seemed awake. She supposed, though, that it may have just been his adrenaline doing all the work. 

They took his car, Sophie taking the parking pass from his rearview mirror to hang on her own, so that the Civic wouldn’t get towed out of his apartment complex’s lot. The six hour ride then commenced, neither of them with much to say. 

Ethan had called someone at his work, and Sophie had listened to his half of the conversation, trying to discern how much of it was for the sake of not being questioned, and how much was actually true. Ethan was a little more upfront about why he needed to take the day than she’d expected him to be. When he’d lowered the phone, after ending the call, she glanced at him. 

“You told him.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “If something happens, at least someone will know where we were.” He stuck his phone into his pocket, and returned his hand to the steering wheel. “Not that anything is going to happen.” 

“I appreciate your optimism,” Sophie mumbled, and turned her gaze out the passenger side window. 

She’d never traveled east of Texas. Most of her time had been spent within Texas, or on the west coast during vacations. Still, driving through eastern Texas, to her, didn’t seem any different than western Texas. Just… plains. 

“Have you ever been to Louisiana?” she asked Ethan, at one point. 

“No,” he replied. “What’s in Louisiana?”

“New Orleans,” Sophie said, and then shrugged. “And… that’s probably about it.” 

He let out a sound that might have been a laugh, under different circumstances. “Well, I’ve never wanted to see New Orleans, so.” 

Sophie glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, out the windshield, eyes fixed on the freeway that had opened up ahead of them. They’d crossed the state line between Texas and Louisiana about thirty minutes ago, marking their halfway point, more or less. It was almost eleven in the morning; they’d gotten caught in some traffic, around nine. 

“We’ll need to stop and eat,” Ethan said, and she hummed in question. “If Mia was the one to send the email, she’s fine. We need food.” 

That was true. Sophie was hungry; they hadn’t eaten since six the night before. The pizza and wings had been good, but almost sixteen hours had passed since then. They did need to eat something, or they’d start to get annoyed, and they’d end up taking it out on one another. They really couldn’t afford that sort of thing, considering they were only halfway through their roadtrip, and had no idea what awaited them at the end of it. 

“Okay,” she said, pulling out her phone to check upcoming rest stops. “We’ll find something.” 

Thus, at eleven thirty on July 18th, 2017, she and Ethan sat down at a Louisianan diner to eat food, on their way to Dulvey, Louisiana to get his ex-wife, whom, until a little over twelve hours prior, they’d both thought dead. 

Their visit to the diner lasted longer than they’d expected it to. The place was understaffed, and busy. It was popular with travelers, Sophie supposed, and worth it, in the end. The food was good, although she found herself wishing they were back at their own diner, in Waco, the one that they’d had supper together for the first time at. 

She glanced at Ethan, halfway through the meal, and wondered if he was thinking of it too, or if his thoughts were with Mia, in Dulvey, at the ‘Baker farm.’ Her question was answered when he looked up and met her eyes. He offered her his half-smile. 

“Not as good as our diner,” he said. 

“No,” Sophie agreed, relaxing a little. “I was thinking the same thing.” 

They finished eating, and paid. Ethan took the check before Sophie could ask him how they wanted to split it, and she sighed a little, but didn’t fight him, instead reaching for her own wallet to retrieve tip money. 

Once they were back in his car, Sophie pulled her bag onto her lap, and retrieved her concealed carry. Ethan looked over at her as she clicked free the clip, and examined the bullet on the top of it. 

“I’m hoping you won’t have to use that,” he said, after a moment. 

“Me too,” Sophie said. She glanced at him. “You remember how to fire it, though?”

“Yes,” Ethan replied, sounding as though he wished he didn’t. “Hard to forget. My wrist hurt for a week straight afterwards.”

Sophie smiled a little, remembering the single time he’d allowed her to bring him to a shooting range, to show him the basics of how to handle a gun. He’d fired it completely wrong, the first time, resulting in the wrist pain he’d mentioned. She’d quickly corrected his grip, after that, and Ethan had done much better during the rest of the training, although when they’d left, he’d said, “I think I’ll leave the gun stuff to you.”

She really did hope he’d be able to say he had, after their visit to the Baker farm.

Notes:

I… I hate the way this chapter is written? I don’t know why I hate it, it just… it’s not my favorite. But that’s my fault, ‘cause I’m the one who wrote it. Anyway, I apologize, if any of you also hated the way it was written. The next one is absolutely wild, though, so you have that to look forward to.

Chapter 16: "What the fuck is wrong with this place?"

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Sophie frowned at the heavy duty lock and chain holding the gate closed, which Ethan was currently pulling at, as though he’d be able to open it despite their presence. She then lifted her gaze towards the large house up the drive beyond the sealed gate, and decided she really didn’t like the look of it, however lovely it appeared from the outside. 

The chain rattled as Ethan tugged on the gate again, and she sighed. “Ethan, it isn’t budging,” she said. “We’ll need to find another way in.” 

He backed away from the fence, and looked around. “Fine,” he said, then started to pick his way down a cleared path a few steps to the left of the gate. “Come on.” 

Sophie followed him, being careful to watch her step, hand resting on the gun at her waist. 

They moved through what she could only describe as swamp land, the ground sinking beneath their feet as they walked, stepping over fallen branches and around trailing limbs from bushes. The path seemed to be well worn, no doubt due to the number of people that had come to look at this place, wondering about the stories they’d read in the paper, that Sophie herself had read on their way from Waco. 

There were plenty, but the two that had stood out to her were the ones that spoke of the missing people. 

Over 20 Missing in 2 Years - From January, 2016.

3 Missing During Urbex Trip - From June, 2017. 

Neither were very comforting in her efforts to not panic about the whole situation. She knew that there was no stopping Ethan, especially now that they were here, but she really wished that they’d at least called the police to ask for assistance in this venture. Ethan had been right, though, when he’d said the police would want to know why they’d come looking for a woman who had been declared dead, based on a single email. 

Sophie wanted to know that herself, but she made no effort to remind Ethan that she’d warned him against doing that exact thing, less than twenty-four hours prior. 

They reached a small clearing, encountering an abandoned van that gave off big Jurassic Park energy. Ethan ignored this, or at least pretended to, and delved ahead down the path. 

The next gate they encountered was actually open, although the friendly sign posted to it reading Accept her gift was a little less so. Sophie frowned at it, as Ethan moved forward through the gate. 

“Hey, is it your birthday? Or mine? Or Christmas?” she asked him. 

“No, why?” Ethan returned. 

Sophie hummed quietly, and scooted through the gate as well. “I guess we won’t be accepting any gifts, then.” 

After another minute or so of walking, Ethan jumped backwards into her as a flock of crows startled, cawing and flying directly at them to get away. Sophie stepped away from Ethan, her nose wrinkling as she eyed the dead beast that the crows at been pecking at, and then she turned and froze when she spotted what she could only describe as some sort of Louisiana welcome mat, complete with dismembered cow legs, saw blades, and cow heads. 

And blood. Lots of blood. 

“What the fuck?” Ethan asked from beside her, and Sophie huffed. 

“This was your idea, remember,” she grumbled, and replaced her hand on her gun, crouching down to scoot beneath the fence that the macabre art was posted to. Ethan followed. 

They kept going, past the dead cows that had had their legs sheared off of them, until they came to a ledge. Sophie considered the drop for a moment, before taking it, landing on her feet in mud. She moved forward towards a smoking pile of trash as she heard Ethan hop down behind her, grunting a little as he sank down into the mud. Sophie knelt near the trash pile, frowning at the smoke, indicative of the fact that it had very recently been put out, and then lowered her gaze, her eyes settling on an orange purse. She reached for it, and opened it, finding an unharmed wallet resting on top. She pulled it out, and undid the latch on the front, opening it to reveal a driver’s license. She let out a breath when she saw who it belonged to. 

“What is it?” Ethan asked, and she handed the wallet up to him, leaving the purse where it was. Ethan looked over the driver’s license for a moment, his brows coming together, before he looked up at her again. 

“She’s here,” he said, 

“It looks like it,” Sophie replied, eyeing the smoldering trash pile. Or she was here.  

Ethan shoved the wallet into his pocket, and hurried up to the house nearby, which it appeared they’d approached from the back. Sophie followed him, going a bit more slowly, hating everything about the whole place at first sight. 

Ethan stopped in front of a door that looked to have been forcefully opened, at one point or another, considering it was already adjar, showing into a darkened space on the other side. Ethan glanced back at her, and Sophie rested her hand again on her gun, before nodding, once. Ethan nodded back, and stepped into the house. Sophie went after him. 

Ethan had brought a small pocket flashlight with him. He clicked it on, shining it around the dark space. It looked to be a hallway, with one single opening at the very end, next to a wardrobe that had a chain around its handles, keeping it closed. Sophie tried not to wonder why this was the case, and instead followed Ethan down the hall and through the opening, which led them into a kitchen, one that smelled of rotting food and dank wood. 

“Ugh,” Sophie muttered, reaching up to cover her nose and mouth with her hand. She eyed a pot that was sitting on the wooden dining table in the middle of the room, having a feeling that the rotting food smell was coming from within it. “This place has been empty for a long time.”

“It seems like it,” Ethan agreed, reaching towards the pot, but refraining from actually lifting the lid on it at the last moment. He instead moved around the table, and crossed the kitchen to the entry on the other side, leaving Sophie with no choice but to do the same. 

There was another hall behind the entry, with a staircase to the right and a narrower hall beside it, going deeper into the house. Sophie ignored this, instead approaching the stairs, the bottom of which she tested by stepping down on it with her full weight. It didn’t collapse beneath her, surprisingly enough, and she glanced at Ethan, before starting up the rest of the stairs. The room at the top was empty, apart from a table against one wall, which had a single VHS tape sitting on top of it. She frowned to herself as she approached and picked it up, reading the label on the sticker: Derelict House Footage. 

“Fitting,” she said, holding it out to Ethan, who’d followed her up the stairs. 

“What is it doing here, though?” he asked, and she lifted her shoulders. 

“Maybe whoever lived here liked old movies.”

“Funny,” he said, rolling his eyes as he turned back towards the stairs. Sophie smiled a little, and went down them after him. 

They moved down the narrow hall to the left of the stairs, opening the doors that they could as they went. One led into what might have been a storage room, at once point, but was now empty. The one all the way at the end was locked. The other opened into a living room of sorts, complete with a couch and arm chairs, a coffee table, and a TV stand, with a working TV sitting on top of it. There was also a piano in the room, but when Ethan approached it, the lid closed all on its own, prompting them both to jump from the banging noise that came from it. 

“Jesus,” Sophie huffed, heart racing. “Of all things.” She frowned at the TV. “How the hell is that working? It looks older than you.”

“Haha.” Ethan approached the TV. “It’s actually because this is the part of the horror movie where we put the tape in, to figure out how we’re going to die horribly.” 

“That wasn’t funny,” Sophie informed him, but he shushed her, pushing the VHS tape that they’d found upstairs into the player on top of the TV. It took a moment before the recorded footage on the tape began to play. 

It took her about three seconds to realize that it was footage from the three that had gone missing in June, according to the article she had read. Immediately, her breathing hitched, and she took a step closer to Ethan, watching the footage play out on the small, aged TV screen. When the cameraman, Clancy Javis, encountered the dead body of producer Andre Strickland in the crawlspace below the house, she reached out and grabbed Ethan’s arm, horrified, and cringed away from the screen as the footage ended with something terrible happening to Javis off screen. 

“Jesus,” Ethan exclaimed, pulling her away from the TV with him. “What the fuck?”

“I think your shitty joke was a little too real,” Sophie answered. “Someone left that for us to find.” 

He exhaled, and glanced towards the fireplace. “But Mia is here, so we need at least try to find her, before we can even think about leaving.” He pried her fingers off of his arm, but held her hand for a moment, almost as though he was trying to reassure her, before letting go. “Stay here.”

“You’re kidding.” 

“No,” Ethan said. “I’m not. I’m not letting you come down there, not after - after whatever that was.” He waved his hand at the TV, which had gone back to showing static. 

“But you want to go down there?” Sophie demanded, watching as he crossed the room to the fireplace, squatting down in front of it. He pulled the hidden chain beneath it, and the wall opened up, just as it had in the video. Ethan stood again, and stepped over to the gap. 

“Ethan, you can’t,” Sophie said. “This place is dangerous enough without you going down into some decrepit basement.” 

“Soph, I have to. Mia might be down there,” Ethan insisted. He crouched down in front of the space in the wall, and glanced up at her. “Wait here. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, get out of here, however you can.” 

“And leave you?” Sophie asked, incredulous. 

Ethan offered her a grim smile. “If I’m not back, I’m probably dead,” he said, “so don’t think too hard about it.” He held up the key to his car. Sophie didn’t reach for it. Ethan sighed. “Sophie, please.” 

Sophie frowned at him. “No,” she said, and crossed her arms. “Keep the keys. Knowing you have them, and that I can’t really get anywhere without them, will encourage you to stay alive.” 

Ethan rolled his eyes, but put the keys back into his pocket. Sophie was glad he knew better than to try and argue with her. 

“Keep looking around while I’m down there,” Ethan suggested. “See if you can find a way out of here, that isn’t the front door. Something tells me we won’t be getting back out that way.” 

“Fine,” Sophie said. “I really wish you’d just let me come down there with you.” 

“Nope.” Ethan scooted into the crawl space, and Sophie watched it, waiting for him to re-emerge, declaring that he’d changed his mind, that she’d been right, that they needed to leave. 

But he didn’t, and her shoulders fell in defeat. 

“Ass,” she grumbled, and turned to face the room. 

First, she headed to the coffee table, and she picked up one of the photos that she found resting on it, frowning at the image it showed, which was of a woman in her underwear. She thought it might have been Mia, but couldn’t have been positive. Still, she was glad Ethan hadn’t had the chance to look at it himself. She set it back down, and turned towards the fireplace again, spotting the picture hanging over it. It was of a family of four, a man with dark hair and a woman, with their two dark haired children sitting with them on a couch. The Bakers, maybe?

She spent a few more minutes in the living room, examining a fuse box that was on one wall, as well as some more of the photos that were scattered around the room, each one a little bit more disconcerting than the last. She knew that she was lingering in the living room in the hopes that Ethan would come back through the hidden entrance to the crawlspace, but he didn’t, and she decided she needed to move on to looking around the rest of the house, like he’d asked her too. 

She exited the living room again, and considered the hallway. She went to retest the door at the end, just to reassure herself that it was locked, before she went back to the staircase. She climbed it again, and tilted her head when she spotted something she hadn’t noticed before, which was a post with a button of some kind on it. She reached out to hit the button, which was labeled Stairs, but nothing happened. Maybe it had something to do with the empty space she’d seen in the fusebox in the living room. 

Sophie made her way back down the stairs, not knowing what else there was for her to do. She hated Ethan for not allowing her to come into the crawlspace with him, especially after what they’d seen on that tape. How the hell was she supposed to shoot anything that threatened him if she wasn’t with him down there?

She returned to the living room, where the TV was, and approached the piano again. She hesitated, before reaching out and lifting the lid away from the keys. She waited a moment, reassuring herself that it wouldn’t close on her again, and reached out to touch one of the keys.

Sophie’s head snapped up, and she turned towards the hallway, away from the piano, which remained untouched behind her. 

“Ethan?” she asked, stepping around the furniture compiled in the center of the room. She moved into the hallway, and paused again, certain she’d heard banging. She turned in the direction of the door that was locked, and hurried towards it, pressing her ear up against it. From the other side, she could hear obvious sounds of a struggle, including, horrifyingly, what seemed to be Ethan grunting with effort. 

“Mia! Wait, wait!” she heard him shout, and then he let out an exclamation of pain.

“Ethan!” Sophie rammed against the door with her shoulder, attempting to force it open. She heard him cry out again, and fear-fueled adrenaline encouraged her to turn around and face the door head on. With strength she’d earned from years of kickboxing, she kicked it, just above the doorknob. The wood caved in, and she was able to force her way through the narrow gap that opened, looking around frantically for her friend. 

“Ethan!” 

She heard a hollow thunking, and she followed the sound around the corner, pausing when she came into sight of Ethan, where he was on his knees, and who was unmistakably his wife, Mia. Mia was presently whacking her head against the wall. As Sophie took a step forward, she did so hard enough to knock herself out, and she collapsed where she stood. Sophie picked up her pace, and dropped to her own knees next to Ethan, noting that his face was drained of color, and that his hands were covered in cuts. One looked to have a stab wound, even, that went clear through his palm. There was a bad gash on his left shoulder as well. 

“What the hell happened?” she demanded, taking his wrists in her hands to inspect the injuries further. 

“She - she’s -” Ethan seemed to struggle to pull together a coherent thought, and Sophie glanced up at him, trying to meet his eyes. His own were fixed on where his wife had fallen, a bloody butcher knife lying beside her. 

“She attacked you?” Sophie asked, and Ethan managed a small nod. “Why?” 

“I - I don’t know,” Ethan said. “I don’t - she… she looked different. Older, but then she went back to normal, and she -” He shook his head, helpless. “I don’t know.” 

“Okay.” Sophie scooted beneath the arm attached to his less injured hand, and hauled him to his feet. “We’re getting the hell out of here.” 

“We can’t just leave her,” Ethan said at once. 

“Ethan, you just said that she attacked you,” Sophie retorted. “There’s obviously something wrong here, which means we need to go.” 

“But -” 

Whatever Ethan had been about to say was cut short when Mia suddenly lifted to her feet again. Sophie, out of surprise more than anything, staggered away from Ethan, watching as Mia gripped his injured hand, and twisted his wrist in what looked to be a painful way. Ethan, to his credit, didn’t cry out this time, only stared at his wife in horror as she forced him backwards. 

“Leave me!” she growled, and, to Sophie’s shock, threw Ethan into the wall. Sophie expected Ethan to hit it and drop to the floor, but instead he crashed through the weak siding, into the room beyond. Mia stalked into it after him, retrieving her knife, and Sophie fumbled for her gun. 

“No!” she heard Ethan exclaim, and she glanced up to see that he’d staggered to his feet, and was holding his hand out to her. He had what looked to be a small wood axe in his other one. “Don’t shoot her.”

“But Ethan -”

“Don’t!” he insisted. “Mia -”

Her response was to swing her knife at him, and he deflected it with his left forearm, stepping around her so that his back was to Sophie. 

“You shouldn’t have come, Ethan,” Mia snarled. “Now, you have to be dead too.” 

“Mia, talk to me!” Ethan said, blocking another swing from her knife. “What’s going on with you?” 

Mia did not reply, merely stabbed forward with her knife in an overhead swing, which brought it down directly into Ethan’s shoulder, worsening the injury already there. He grunted, and pushed her away from him, staggering off to the side. Sophie decided that enough was enough, whatever Ethan’s wishes might have been. 

“Leave him alone!” she shouted, raising her gun, aiming it towards Mia’s shoulder. If Ethan didn’t want to shoot her dead, fine, but she’d at least knock her down so that they could… figure out what to do with her. 

Mia turned, slowly, to face her. Sophie was horrified by the change in her features that she noticed, having seen her unconscious on the floor moments prior. Dark bags had grown beneath Mia’s eyes, and wrinkles stood out on her forehead and cheeks. She did look older, just as Ethan had said. 

“You.” Mia took a step towards her. “Trespasser!” 

Sophie cocked her gun. “Don’t try it,” she warned. “I will shoot you.” 

Mia let out a cackle, and lunged forward. Sophie pulled the trigger, and watched as the bullet met its mark in Mia’s left shoulder. It jerked backwards, but she showed no other sign of having been shot, aside from the way her glare grew all the more murderous. 

“What the fuck?” Sophie whispered, and held up her own arms as Mia came towards her again, knife raised. She fully expected to feel the bite of cold metal on her skin, but instead she heard the dull thud of something hitting the floor, and then a soft moan. She lowered her arms to see Ethan standing between her and Mia, hands lifted in front of him. The axe he’d picked up was embedded in the space between Mia’s neck and shoulder. 

A death blow. 

Mia let out a quiet sound, a dying sound, and seemed to reach out towards Ethan as she fell backwards, landing in the rubble from the ruined wall, her head thunking against the floor. Blood spread outwards from her in a slow, thick pool. 

Sophie blinked at her for a moment, before looking at Ethan, who stood frozen before her. “Ethan -” she began, reaching out to touch his uninjured shoulder, but didn’t have a chance to find out what she’d been going to say, for outside in the hall, a phone began to ring. 

She glanced back over her shoulder, and then at Ethan again. The sound of the phone ringing had brought him back to himself, it seemed, because he’d turned his head to look at her. 

“Maybe we should answer that,” she suggested, softly. 

Ethan managed a nod, glanced down at Mia again, and then moved around Sophie into the hall, stumbling over some of the rubble. Sophie followed him, down the hall to a small table, where an old-fashioned landline was positioned, the light on it flickering as it continued to ring. Ethan picked up the phone; Sophie saw his hand was shaking. 

She leaned in closer, so that she’d be able to hear whoever was on the other end as well. 

“You really shouldn’t have come here,” a female’s voice drawled, her Louisianan accent thick.

“Who is this?” Ethan asked, his own voice lowered. “And what the fuck is going on?” 

“My name’s Zoe,” the woman said. “There should be a way out through the attic.”

“The attic?” Ethan repeated, and Sophie frowned to herself, wondering where the entrance to said attic could be. She’d thought she’d explored the building thoroughly, after Ethan had gone through into the crawlspace. 

“Go there - now,” Zoe said, and then the line cut out as she hung up on her end. Ethan lowered the phone, blinked at it for a moment, and then replaced it, before looking at Sophie. 

“Is there an attic?” he asked, his eyes dull. 

“I don’t - I didn’t see one,” Sophie said, “but… there was a button, on the second floor, that was labeled “Stairs.” That might be it.” She tilted her head, her eyebrows drawing together as she took in his expression. “Ethan, I’m so sorry you had to do that.” 

“She was going to kill you, and then me,” Ethan mumbled, shouldering around her again and moving back down the hall. “I didn’t have a choice.” 

Sophie remained where she was for a moment, feeling torn. She knew that she couldn’t possibly tell him how to feel about what had just happened, one way or the other. She just worried that he’d let it sink in too late, while they were in the process of escaping, perhaps, and that would be worse for them than if he did so now. 

“Mia?” 

Sophie turned her head in the direction he’d gone, frowning, and hurried after him. She found him standing in the room that Mia had thrown him through the wall into, looking down at the floor. Sophie joined him, and felt her heart thud to a rough stop when she saw that the pool of Mia’s blood was on the floor, as was the axe that should have killed her, but Mia herself was not. 

“Where’d she go?” she whispered, unable to think of a better question to ask, or perhaps one that was less stupid. 

Ethan did not respond, and Sophie stared down at the blood for a moment longer, before she swallowed, and reached over to take his wrist in her hand. 

“Come on,” she said, managing to keep her voice steady. “Let’s - let’s get out of here.” 

Ethan allowed her to tug him from the room, and she pulled him along after her back through the door she’d kicked in. 

“There’s a fuse box in the room with the fireplace,” she said. “It probably powers the button, which means we need to find a fuse.” 

Ethan nodded, and Sophie considered him for a second, before sighing, and leaning him against the wall. “Stay there,” she instructed. “I’ll find it.”

“No, we - I should come with you,” Ethan said. 

Sophie frowned at him. “Ethan, you’re -” 

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “I got bolt cutters, when I was down in the basement. Let’s check that cabinet we passed. By the entry to the kitchen.”

He headed back towards the kitchen, rounding the stairs, and Sophie followed him, not knowing what else to do. They crossed the kitchen, moving past the littered table, and Ethan paused in front of the cabinet, tugging the bolt cutters out of his pocket. He winced as he made to use them on the chain holding the cabinet closed. 

“Let me,” Sophie said, taking them from him. She snapped through the chain, and watched it slither to the floor, before she slowly tugged one of the doors of the cabinet open. She reached inside, and pulled out the glass cylinder on the shelf, holding it up.

“Good.” Ethan took the bolt cutters back, putting them into his pocket again. “Let’s go.” 

They made their way back to the hall. “Stay here,” Sophie suggested. “See if a light comes on on the button, or something, when I put this in. If it doesn’t work, we’ll need to figure something else out.” 

Ethan nodded, and Sophie headed back to the TV room. She placed the fuse into the blank spot on the box, and watched as the light above it flickered to life, glowing a healthy green. She exhaled a relieved breath, which turned into a choked gasp when she heard Ethan yelp from out in the hall. 

She immediately hurried that direction, pulling her gun free again. Mia was back, neck covered in blood, proving that Ethan had most definitely gotten her with the axe, and it hadn’t been a shared hallucination. Her eyes flickered from Ethan, who she was advancing on with a screwdriver, towards Sophie, who aimed her gun at her head, this time.

“Stop it,” she instructed, finger steady on the trigger. “Why aren’t you dead? We saw you die.”

Mia flashed her a dangerous smile, and before Sophie knew what was happening, she’d been shoved backwards into the wall behind her. She felt the impact her head made against the wood a moment after she heard the thunk of it, and she slumped to the floor, dazed, her vision doubling. 

She struggled to stand again, using the wall for support, but found that keeping her feet while seeing two of everything was no easy task. She stumbled into the wall, feeling sick, and squeezed her eyes closed, vaguely aware of a struggle coming from somewhere nearby, and, after a moment, the distinct sound of some sort of power tool. She turned her head, blinking, and watched as two of Mia lurched towards where Ethan was on the ground near the opposite wall of the hallway, hefting a chainsaw over her head. 

Sophie raised her gun, as best she could, and blindly fired a shot towards what she hoped was the real Mia, and not merely the twin she was seeing due to her head injury. She was rewarded when she heard Mia release a hiss, as she and her twin staggered a bit. The bullet Sophie had fired had ended up in her thigh, but it was enough to deter her from using the chainsaw on Ethan, which had been Sophie’s real goal. 

“Meddlers,” she heard Mia grumble as she squeezed her eyes shut tight again, so that when she opened them once more, it was to see a single version of Mia stumbling away down the hall, chainsaw hanging from one hand at her side. “Must stop the spread… Burn it all down...” 

Sophie waited until Mia was out of sight, before moving towards Ethan, as quickly as she could without losing her feet. 

“Ethan,” she began, managing to squat down beside him. She saw that his hand had been impaled to the wall by the screwdriver Mia had held, and she ground her teeth, looking at Ethan. His brown eyes were bright with pain and terror; clearly, he understood just how close he’d been to death. 

“I’m gonna pull this out,” Sophie said, and Ethan nodded, once. She saw his own jaw clench as she placed her hand around the base of the screwdriver, braced her other hand around his wrist, and yanked. Ethan let out a soft hiss through his teeth as the tool came loose, sliding out of his hand, bringing a fresh wave of blood with it. He winced as he flexed his hand, and looked at her again. 

“Thanks,” he said. “She came out of nowhere.” 

“I bet,” Sophie agreed, and straightened up again, rubbing the back of her skull. “Fuck, I hit the wall hard. How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine,” Ethan said. “I’m worried about blood loss, at this point, but I can’t do anything about that until we get out of here.”

“No illusions about taking her with us anymore, I hope?” Sophie asked, and regretted it the second she saw his expression darken. “Sorry, sorry. Bad time.” 

“Really bad time,” Ethan muttered, and got to his feet, hand pressed against the wall. It left a bloody mark behind. “Come on.” 

They went up the stairs together. Sophie imagined that they made for an amusing sight, her stumbling along, still feeling vaguely sick to her stomach, Ethan dripping blood from his hand onto the wood. When they reached the top, Sophie crossed to the post with the button on it, and pushed it in. After a moment, another set of stairs descended from the ceiling. 

“Great,” she said. “Attic. Just what we need.” 

“I hope this Zoe wasn’t making shit up,” Ethan responded, and guided her towards the stairs, his right hand lightly brushing her back. 

When they reached the top, Sophie glanced around, holding her gun with both hands. Mia had walked off, but that didn’t mean she’d left them alone for good. They needed to be wary, still, even if the only sounds left in the house were the natural creaks and groans of old architecture. 

Ethan nudged a partially opened door further open, and peered into the room on the other side. 

“Nothing,” he said, after a moment. “Let’s keep going. There’s gotta be something up here.” 

Sophie hoped he was right.

They walked further into the attic, rounding first one corner, and then another. Sophie peered around the darkened space, wishing that the little flashlight Ethan had brought had more power. 

“A ladder,” Ethan said at last, and she turned towards where he was pointing the flashlight. Indeed, a rickety wooden ladder was leaned up against the wall there, going up to what appeared to be a window. The shutters rattled a bit, against the storm that had started up outside. 

“I guess that’s it,” Sophie said. She glanced at him. “You go first.”

“What?” Ethan asked, frowning, and she gestured towards him. 

“You’ve lost too much blood. I need to be behind you to catch you if you faint.” 

“I’m not going to faint,” Ethan grumbled, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he stuck the flashlight into his breast pocket, and set one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. Sophie moved closer to it, switching her gun to one hand to hold the ladder steady as he made his way up it. When he neared the top, Sophie glanced up, and felt the color drain from her face when a new sound interlaced with the thunder and wind outside. 

Ethan looked up towards the window. “The fuck is -?”

A chainsaw’s blade shattered the windows at the top of the ladder, and Ethan beat a hasty retreat back down it, until he was beside Sophie on the floor. She raised her gun, pointing it towards Mia, who dropped down through the destroyed window, wielding her chainsaw. 

“Ethan -”

“Shoot her!” he exclaimed, ducking away from the chainsaw as Mia swung it towards him. Sophie fired the gun twice, one of the bullets landing in the center of Mia’s back, and the other the center of her chest, as she turned towards her instead. Sophie shot her again, aiming for the left side of her chest. The bullet whizzed through her, and she snarled, turning towards Ethan once more. 

“Sophie!” Ethan shouted, and Sophie squeezed her gun’s trigger one final time. The bullet scoured across the side of Mia’s head, taking a chunk of hair with it on the other side, and she shuddered, the chainsaw dropping to her side. Sophie watched in horrified fascination as her features slid back into their normal form, and her eyes found Ethan. 

“I’m… sorry…” she groaned, collapsing to her knees, and then falling onto her side, where she remained. 

Sophie lowered her gun, blinking down at Mia. She glanced over at Ethan, wondering how in the world they were going to come back from this. She didn’t have a chance to ask. In fact, she didn’t even have a chance to warn him about the new threat that had just pushed their way through the window and dropped to the floor behind him, before the tall man in a yellow and white striped shirt was grabbing Ethan by the shoulder, and swinging his fist into his face. 

“Ethan!” Sophie exclaimed, starting towards him, but the man shoved her back into the wall, and then lifted his foot, preparing to stomp down on Ethan’s head. Sophie refused to allow that to happen. 

“Stop!” she shouted, and raised her gun again, pointing it at the man’s head.  “Leave him alone!” 

The man first lowered his foot back to the floor, and then turned towards her. He was clearly the one in the picture she’d seen downstairs, just quite a bit older, and had a jaundiced look to his pallid skin. His round, steel-rimmed glasses glinted as he examined her, before he grinned. 

“Lookit you,” he said, brightly. “Didn’t expect Ethan here to bring a friend along. Who might you be?” 

“None of your business,” Sophie retorted. “Get away from him.” 

“Aw, but he needs some help,” the man replied. “He looks pretty beat up.” He gestured towards where Mia lay in a heap on the floor. “She did quite a number on him, didn’t she?” 

“Like I’m gonna let the man who just punched him in the face convince me to let him help,” Sophie said, annoyed. “Who even are you?” 

“Jack Baker,” the man responded. “Head of the fuckin’ family, in case you were curious.” He frowned down at Ethan. “Although with his arrival, that might not be so true anymore.” 

Sophie frowned. “What do you mean?” 

Baker did not reply, merely continued to stare down at Ethan, who, Sophie could see, was still losing quite a bit of blood from the various wounds he’d been dealt by Mia. Sophie really needed to get to him. 

“Hey!” she said, loudly, and Baker shifted slightly, turning back to her. “We just want to get out of here. I’ll take Ethan and go, and you won’t have to worry about him… taking over, or whatever. Okay?” 

Baker grunted. “That ain’t how it works around here,” he said, and then he took a step forward, towards her. Reflexively, Sophie widened her stance, leveling her gun directly at his face. Baker eyed her. 

“Ain’t you scared?”

Sophie made a face. “I’m a liberal from Texas,” she said, and then cocked her pistol. “Nothin’ scares me.” 

“Texas. Yeah. Could’ve guessed that.” Baker took two more steps towards her. “Been a minute since we had one of you. You don’t look like you’ll give us as much meat as the last one, but the missus will have my head if I don’t at least try to skin ya.” 

That was all the threat Sophie needed to be convinced to fire her gun. The bullet landed square in the center of Baker’s forehead. His eyes went wide, and he stood stock still for a moment, appearing surprised that she’d shot at him, let alone hit him. Sophie waited for him to hit the floor, the way Mia had twice, now, after being dealt a death blow. Even if it was only momentary, it’d be enough time for Sophie to get Ethan out. That was all she was counting on, at that moment. 

But Baker didn’t fall. In fact, he barely staggered. He merely remained where he was, upright, incredibly still, eyes wide behind his glasses. Sophie stared at him, flabbergasted. 

“What the fuck is wrong with this place?” she whispered, and adjusted her aim, striking Baker in the neck, this time. She heard the bullet whiz out of him on the opposite side and crunch through one of the boards on the wall as a spurt of dark red blood poured from the wound. Baker didn’t reach up to cover it with his hands; he couldn’t, Sophie realized, because her initial gunshot had ended the brain function that allowed for him to control his limbs. 

She watched as he fell first to his knees, and then onto his face, blood spreading slowly out and away from him on the wooden floor of the attic. Sophie exhaled a breath, and stepped around him, approaching where Ethan had fallen. She winced at the sight of his injuries; the ones on his hands were the worst. She needed to get him first aid, and fast. 

“Hey!” She looked up, and pulled her gun out again, quickly, at the sight of someone new peering in at them through the broken window. The woman was young, had short dark hair, and looked enthused. “C’mon, you ain’t got much time.” 

“You Zoe?” Sophie demanded. 

“Yeah,” the woman responded. “Let’s go.” 

“He’s hurt,” Sophie said, looking back down at Ethan. 

“Clearly. I can help, but we gotta get outta here, first.” 

Sophie glanced at Jack Baker, who was already beginning to stir. She fired another bullet into the back of his head for good measure, and to buy them more time, before she scooted over to Ethan and slung his arm up around her shoulders. 

She sent Zoe a glare. “Help me now, or there won’t be any chance to later.”

Zoe climbed into the attic, and got beneath Ethan’s other arm. Together, they hauled him upright, and then did an awkward push-and-shove to get him out the window, and onto the shingles of the roof beneath. 

“C’mon,” Zoe said, scooting down the shingles and leaping lightly to the ground. She then turned and peered back up at them. “My father or Mia will get back up any second now.” 

Sophie turned her attention to Ethan. “Ethan,” she said, and slapped his cheek. “Wake up, you idiot, I can’t carry you.” 

Ethan released a quiet moan in answer, and Sophie cursed. “Fine, then,” she muttered. She shoved him down the shingles to the edge of the roof, and then hopped down, to join Zoe. “Help me catch him.” 

Together, they tugged Ethan off of the roof, supporting his weight on the way down. He hit the ground heavier than Sophie would have liked, but at least nothing within him broke. After, they got him back on his feet, and carried him towards the trailer that was in the center of the yard they’d climbed down into. Zoe got the door open, and Sophie dragged Ethan into it, then watched as Zoe slammed and latched the door behind them. 

“You’re sure he’s not dead?” she asked, moving around them both to get to an odd suitcase of sorts that was resting on the table. 

“Yeah,” Sophie replied, crouching down beside Ethan to check his pulse. It was steady beneath her fingers, and he seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, his eyelids fluttering. She studied his face for a moment, and then looked up at Zoe again. “Why’re you willing to help us?” 

“Because,” Zoe said, turning around. She had bandages in one hand, and a green bottle in the other. She squatted down on Ethan’s other side, lifting his hand. Sophie watched as she doused it with the fluid from the bottle, and Ethan hissed inwards through his teeth, but didn’t react other than that. Zoe looked at Sophie through the dark hair hanging in her eyes. “The two of you are gonna help me get outta here.”

“You can’t do that on your own?” Sophie asked, taking the bandages as Zoe held them out to her, and then nodded to the hand she’d covered in liquid. Sophie blinked at the hand, watching in surprise as skin stitched itself together over the knife wound that Mia had dealt him. She wrapped the bandage around his hand, dumbfounded. What sort of miracle liquid was Zoe carrying around in her fancy suitcase?

“My family and I are infected,” Zoe said, speaking as she worked to cover the injuries on Ethan’s other hand with more of the liquid. “The contamination inside of us, and inside of his wife, keep us bound here, to this farm, where the source of the infection is. The only way we could leave is if we get the infection out.” 

“And… how do you do that?” Sophie asked, taking Ethan’s other hand to wrap it as well, while Zoe dealt with the wound on his shoulder. 

“By creating a serum,” Zoe said, “but I don’t exactly know how to do that. I need the two of you to figure that out for me.”

Sophie blinked at her. “You have no idea?” she asked, and Zoe huffed a little. 

“I have some,” she said, gesturing towards Ethan’s shoulder. Sophie scooted around him, lifting his torso up as best she could into her lap so that she could get more bandages wrapped around it. Ethan let out a quiet groan in response to the movement, and Sophie shushed him. “I’m pretty sure my mama’s got some locked away in the old house.” 

“Why can’t you go get it?” Sophie asked. “In case you didn’t notice, Ethan here isn’t exactly an action hero, and I’m almost out of ammo.”

Zoe sighed, standing up and stepping away from them, pausing in front of the trailer’s tiny sink. “My family isn’t… my family, anymore,” she said. “They’re too far gone, and they - they resent me, you could say, for not wanting to get to that point too.” She shook her head. “I can’t face them, not when they all want me dead.” 

“So you want Ethan and I to risk our own lives doing it instead?” Sophie asked, feeling all of Ethan’s weight pressing down on her thighs and wondering why the hell he couldn’t have just taken her word for it when she’d said coming to Louisiana themselves was a bad idea. 

Zoe glanced at her. “You’re already here,” she said. “Seems to me you wouldn’t mind finishing the job you came here to do in the first place.” 

“Yeah, well, that was before we knew Mia was a zombie, or whatever she is,” Sophie responded. “We killed her twice. Ethan stabbed an axe through her neck, but she came back. How is that possible?” 

“The infection,” Zoe said. “It’s part of the reason my family grew to be so far gone. They like the appeal of being able to come back. Even if in the process, it twists you into something else, something that isn’t exactly human.” She gestured towards Ethan. “He must have come here because he still loves his wife. Why did you?” 

Sophie didn’t respond, instead looked down at Ethan. His head lolled against her hip bone, eyes half-lidded. 

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Zoe asked, and Sophie exhaled. 

“That’s none of your business,” she said, and then she glanced up at her again. “What about your father? He gonna be a problem?” 

“Most likely,” Zoe answered, after a moment. “I wish I could say you did him in earlier, when you shot him, because I wish it would all just end, for all of them, but he’ll come back. Probably pretty pissed off.” 

“Great,” Sophie muttered. “Okay. What’s the first step, then?” 

“You’ll need the key to the old house,” Zoe said. “My father kept it in the recreation room upstairs in the main house. I don’t know if that’s where it still is.” 

“Fine,” Sophie said. She slid Ethan’s torso off of her thighs, making sure his head landed gently on the floor of the trailer, and stood. She considered Zoe for a moment. “Wouldn’t happen to have anything that might make this whole mission of mine a bit easier, would you?” 

“Some extra ammo?” Zoe suggested, stepping around her and pulling open a wardrobe that was up against one wall. “The people my family’s captured, they’ve brought all sorts of things to the farm with them. Ammo isn’t in short supply. No one travels down south without a gun.” She turned around, holding out two replacement clips. “Standard handgun ammo.” 

Sophie took one, and checked one of the bullets inside of it. She nodded to herself, seeing it matched the caliber of the bullets in her own gun, and took the other as well, sliding both into her pocket. “Fine,” she said. “What about that miracle juice you poured on Ethan?” 

Zoe produced a spare bottle for her. “It ain’t miracle juice,” she said. “It’s a chemical compound made out of -”

“I don’t really wanna know,” Sophie interrupted, shoving the bottle into her other pocket. “If it can stitch a wound closed, that’s all I care about.” She squatted down beside Ethan again, and looked at him for a moment, before glancing up at Zoe. “Will you keep him safe?” 

Zoe seemed apprehensive. “I can try my best,” she said, “but -”

“Fair enough,” Sophie sighed. She returned her gaze to Ethan, and then leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “Don’t be down and out for forever, Winters,” she murmured next to his ear. “I could really use your help with this mess.” 

She stood up, and moved to the door of the trailer. She glanced back at Zoe. “If I don’t come back out of the main house -”

“I’ll tell him,” Zoe said. 

“No,” Sophie responded. Zoe raised her eyebrow, and she shook her head. “Don’t. I don’t - I don’t want him to know, not unless it comes from me.” 

Zoe nodded, after a moment, and Sophie faced the door. She exhaled, slowly, and then undid the latch and pushed it open. She slipped outside, into the yard, closing the door gently behind her, and faced the large house across the way from her. She felt the weight of dread set in. 

“All right, Sophie,” she mumbled to herself. “Let’s get ‘er done.”

Notes:

There is so much going on in this chapter, but it's essentially just the opening sequence from RE7 with some changes here and there, so hopefully it didn't overwhelm anybody.
We're getting into it, folks!
(Also I realize I'm kind of overloading in terms of chapter updates, but I'm really trying to get almost all of it up before work starts. I don't imagine anyone's super upset about getting a new chapter every day, though. But if you are, let me know. Or anything else you'd like to share. As everyone's probably been able to tell, I love replying to comments.)

Chapter 17: "Augh! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The main house was much larger than the house they’d come out of. Sophie only needed to look up at it to realize this. A sort of wary dread found its way into her stomach as she approached it, carefully, wondering how much awareness the people within had of who was in their home, walking its grounds. She didn’t know if this infection Zoe had spoken of gave them any sort of deep connection with the house, or if it only… made them weird and freakishly impenetrable when it came to death. She really hoped that they didn’t have some sort of echolocation, or something, wherein they only had to breathe in order to smell someone on their property, and know exactly where to go in order to find them. 

All the same, she took the steps leading up onto the rear porch slowly, and then approached the door she’d seen there even slower. The door itself had a metal embossing on it, in the shape of Cerberus, the three-headed guard dog of the Greeks’ version of Hell. She reached out, unable to help herself, and touched the metal, feeling the detail of the image beneath her fingers. Why would it look like that, unless for some specific reason? Perhaps a puzzle, to keep those they wanted in the house inside of it, rather than let them freely wander the yard she stood in now? 

She suppressed a shudder at the thought, and tried the door’s handle. It turned for her, and she pulled the door open just wide enough so that she was able to slip through it. Once she was on the other side, she let it fall shut again, as quietly as she could, and then stepped out of the entrance into the wider room on the opposite side. 

It was a main hall. That much was clear. There were two staircases on either side of it, that connected into the same walkway on the upper floor. Neither of the two rooms on the walls directly across from her, or to her left, looked to lead into any halls, but the big double doors on her right did. These doors were closed, and, if she were unlucky, locked as well. She decided to try them, first, just to see, and was not disappointed in her original assessment of her luck. 

“Fuck,” she muttered, under her breath, and moved away from them again, turning back around. She walked towards the collection of furniture in the middle of the room, which appeared to be a pile of chairs, a table, and a rotating table fan, that cast an ominous, frightening shadow against one wall of the hall, one that would startle anyone who walked around a corner and didn’t expect to see movement. She’d need to remember its presence, or piss her pants the next time she walked into the main hall, and saw that shadow. 

She adjusted her grip on her gun, and headed for the room to her right, which was across from the door she’d entered through. A statue was inside, holding a different gun, a shotgun. Sophie hadn’t trained much with a shotgun, but she knew how to fire one, if not how to kill someone with one. She imagined it didn’t take too much work. She reached for the shotgun, and pulled it from the statue’s hands. She jumped as she heard doors clank shut behind her, and spun around to see that she’d been locked into the room. 

All Indiana Jones and shit? she thought, a little bemused, and gingerly replaced the shotgun in the statue’s grasp. The doors reopened, and she sighed a little, but retreated from the room, deciding that she probably didn’t want to haul that shotgun around with her, anyway. 

She approached the last room on the first floor of the hall, and frowned at the pedestal she found positioned inside of it, a projector of sorts centered on a different one, pointed at the first. On the wall where the light of the projector was cast was a painting, entitled Skyhunter.  

Sophie cocked her head to one side. “Huh.” 

Her eyes leapt to the ceiling when she heard a door open, from somewhere above her. She immediately crouched down, and hid behind the empty pedestal as best as she could, pressing her back up against it. Feet thudded heavily across the walkway over her head, and then down the stairs, and as they reached the first floor, she heard someone humming a vacant tune. She leaned around the pedestal a little, and watched as a balding man in a dark hoodie crossed from the bottom of the staircase on the left side of the room, and unlocked the doors she’d tried first, before pushing his way through them. 

Sophie listened as they swung closed, and locked again. She then slowly straightened up, and moved out from behind the pedestal, wondering if whoever that had been was the only person upstairs in this section of the house, or if there were other family members upstairs that she should worry about meeting as well. 

Zoe had said the recreation room. Sophie had no idea of where that might be, or what it might look like. She hated herself for not asking what distinctive furniture she should keep an eye out for. Recreation room - that indicated games, right? Recreation, of some kind? Maybe a… dart board? 

She made a face to herself, feeling stupid. She just needed to focus on finding a key of some kind, although considering the carving of Cerberus, she supposed a key could mean anything, in this fucking house. 

She exited the room with the projector and the pedestal, heading for the stairs closest to where she was. She moved up them one at a time, slowly, holding her gun in one hand and keeping herself steady with the railing. When she reached the top, she considered the walkway, and the two doors on either side of it. One had a funky design on the front of it that looked sort of like a snake. She figured that the snake door had to be locked, and approached the other one instead. 

This one opened easily at her touch, and she moved into the hallway on the other side. She glanced up and down it, debating which direction was least likely to lead her to her death. She elected to go left. 

She passed by a second door with the snake design, and paused briefly to test it. It was locked. She kept moving. 

She approached another door, plain wood this time, further down the same hall as the snake door. She stepped in front of it, and reached out with her fingers, pushing against it. The door fell open under her touch, and she was so startled to encounter one that wasn’t locked that she remained in front of it for a moment, eyes wide, until she heard a different door open, from somewhere behind her. 

“Fuck,” she hissed, and hurried into the room that she’d just accessed. She took about two seconds to examine the space before she moved around to duck behind the pool table in the center of it. She fell into a crouch, and turned, so that she could peer around it towards the door she’d entered through. 

Maybe thirty seconds passed until she heard footsteps coming from behind her, rather than from the direction of the door she’d entered from. She glanced over her shoulder, and felt the blood drain out of her face when she saw there was not only one, but two other doors in the room. One had a scorpion design on it, like the one of the snake on the doors before, but the other had nothing on it. 

Before she could let herself think about it, she moved around to the other side of the pool table, away from the second door. It may have been the smartest thing she’d done in a bit, for a moment later, the door opened. 

“Stupid girl,” she heard, and winced at the sound of the arrival’s voice. She’d been a sweet, older, southern woman once. That much Sophie could tell. Now, though, under the influence of the infection that Zoe had spoken about, she was nothing more than a wicked fiend, who resented everyone and everything. “Stupid girl, thinking she can run from us, her family, the ones who love her.” 

Sophie quietly leaned up over the pool table, to catch a glimpse of this woman. She saw the back of her, first, her long, graying hair tied back out of her face, her striped shirt, her musty orange skirt. She was rooting around on the shelves behind the bar on the other side of the room, clearly searching for something, and muttering to herself all the while. Sophie ducked down again, praying that she wouldn’t need to cross to her side of the room to find whatever she was searching for. 

“Stupid girl,” she heard again. “Escape the blame. There’s no escaping this!” Something thudded, and Sophie swallowed down a yelp, knowing any sound she made now would give her away. “Nasty bitch. Undeserving of Evie’s gift. Evie wants her for her mother. She’s not fit to be her mother.” 

Sophie’s brows drew together. Who the hell was Evie?  

“Marguerite!” She clenched her fists tightly around her gun at the shout that came from outside the room. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“None of your damn business!” the woman shouted back. Sophie peered over the pool table again, and watched as she found what she’d been looking for: a silver key. She turned around, and Sophie ducked back down quickly, and listened as the woman, Marguerite, she supposed, stalked back out of the room the way she’d entered, the door swinging shut behind her. 

Sophie remained where she was, not wanting to risk moving out of her hiding place, just in case whoever had called for Marguerite came looking for her. She waited a full minute before standing, slowly, and stepped around the pool table. 

The key Marguerite had found no doubt was for the old house. Just based on how the evening had gone so far, it was the only thing she could think of that could make things worse, which, of course, was exactly the way the universe intended for it to be. What the fuck was she supposed to do without the damn key? 

She decided to move around the room, which she knew for sure to be the recreation room, now, just to see if there was anything useful. She found another bottle of miracle juice in a drawer behind the bar, and wished that she had a bag of some kind, because she was running out of pockets. 

She opened a cupboard, and her eyebrows lifted when she spotted a linen satchel of sorts shoved into the back corner of it. She pulled it out, and shook it a few times, judging its size, and weighing how annoying it would be to carry. After a moment, she decided it would be more annoying to run out of pocket space, and reallocated her extra resources to it, keeping one clip of ammo in her back pocket, just for ease of access.

After she’d set the bag over her shoulders, cross-body, she felt a little bit better. There was something rewarding about feeling as though you had freedom of movement, without anything shoved into your pockets. She tested her shooting stance with the bag over her shoulder, to reassure herself that she could still fire a gun if necessary. It was a bit awkward, and she changed the bag to be resting on her left shoulder rather than her right. That was better. 

She continued her search of the room, but found nothing else of interest, aside from the dart board that she’d thought she’d find, as well as a stuffed animal head. She sincerely hoped that the family hadn’t stuffed it themselves, because that didn’t exactly bode well for her own future, if she were to be caught. 

Although, from what Jack Baker had said to her before, it sounded as though they intended to eat her instead. She wasn’t entirely sure which would be worse: to be stuffed like a prized kill from some wild hunt, or to be eaten like one. 

She decided that neither would be the case, for her, and went out the door Marguerite had exited through. 

Finding herself on a balcony that was blocked off on the open-air side by a wooden trellis of sorts, she peered through the gaps in it, looking down onto the yard below. She saw the trailer, saw the shadow of someone moving past the window inside of it. That was probably Zoe. She wondered if Ethan had woken up yet. 

She started to move down the balcony, but paused when the light from the trailer changed, as the door to it opened. She looked back down at the yard, and her eyes widened when she saw Ethan stepping out of the trailer, looking annoyed and flustered. He paused in the middle of the yard, and stared up at the house. Sophie thought she knew what he was thinking: What the actual fuck?  

She debated calling out to him, but decided not to risk such a thing. If he entered the main house, she’d be able to meet him downstairs, and they could figure out what to do next together. She made to retreat back into the recreation room, since she knew the path back to the stairs from there, but was pulled to a halt again when she heard Ethan shout from down below. 

“Hey! Who the hell are you? Where’s Sophie?” 

She turned back to the yard, and blanched, seeing Jack Baker was approaching Ethan. Her anxiety bounced about her stomach like a monkey from tree to tree in a jungle. 

Fuck.

“Evening, son,” Baker greeted. “I was actually hopin’ you could tell me.” 

“Ethan,” Sophie whispered, wrapping the fingers of one hand through one of the holes in the trellis. “Ethan, get away from him, please.” 

“What did you do to her? And what’s wrong with Mia?” Ethan asked instead, his voice gruff, because he was an idiot.

“Well, I’m guessin’ your girlfriend escaped,” Jack said. “Miss Mia ain’t goin’ anywhere, but the other one, Sophie, you said? She might’ve been able to leave the property.” 

Sophie gripped the trellis very tightly. Ethan knew her better than to believe that, didn’t he? 

She saw Ethan’s stance shift. “Why can’t Mia leave?” 

Jack chuckled darkly. “Don’t you get it, son? This is her home now. It could be your home, too.” 

“Why the fuck would I want to stay here?” Ethan demanded. 

“To be with your wife!” Jack responded, spreading out his arms. “Ain’t that why you came?”

“I came to get her,” Ethan informed him. “To leave with her. And I’m going to. Her, and Sophie, as soon as I find out what you did with them.”

Silence down below for a moment. Sophie watched, frozen with dread, as Jack slowly lowered his arms. “Well, that is a shame,” he said. His voice had dropped an octave, into something that was much more dangerous, much less friendly. “Eveline will be… very disappointed.” 

“Eveline?” Ethan repeated. “Who the hell is that?” 

Instead of answering him, Jack paced a few steps to one side, and then the other. “We can’t have that,” Sophie heard him mutter. “No, no, we just can’t have Eveline unhappy.” 

Sophie thought she knew where this was going, and stood quickly, wondering if she’d be able to hit Jack from this distance with a shot from her pistol. If the trellis hadn’t been in the way, she might have, but it definitely wouldn’t have been enough to take him down. It might have only pissed him off, in fact. With the trellis, and the threat of the other family members she’d seen so far, she didn’t think it was a safe bet. Even if she did get Jack down, Marguerite or the man she’d seen might come running out into the yard, and take Ethan instead. Or, come upstairs, to the source of the gunfire, and take her.  

“Move, Ethan,” she pleaded, pressing her face against the trellis. “Please.”  

“What the hell is your problem?” Ethan asked instead, and Sophie let out a choked-off gasp when Jack lashed out and struck him across the face with an audible punch. Ethan went sprawling into the grass at Jack’s feet, and Jack kicked his midsection, three times, each thump louder than the last. Sophie gripped the trellis, horrified, watching as Jack beat her best friend, feeling her heart in her throat as, at last, he stopped kicking Ethan, grabbed his left leg, and dragged him towards the main house. 

“No,” Sophie whispered. She hurried back into the recreation room, and out the opposite door. She moved quietly but quickly back down the hallway, and pushed her way out onto the walkway of the main hall staircase, peering through the bannister to the lower floor. She watched as Jack pushed open the door, and hauled Ethan into the house behind him. Ethan’s head clunked against the wooden floor. Jack dragged him through the main hall, and then through the double doors that the man in the hoodie had gone through. Then they were both gone, the doors shutting behind them. 

Sophie hurried down the stairs, and up to the doors. She pressed on them, and then tugged hard on the handles, willing it to open. She had no idea what Jack planned to do with Ethan, but she wasn’t going to let it happen. She refused. 

“Augh!” she exclaimed, and rested her fists against the door, as well as her forehead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”  

From behind her, a phone started to ring. She turned towards it, and moved across the main hall to where it was on a table near the Cerberus door. She picked it up, and brought it to her ear. 

“Zoe?”

“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” Zoe said from the other end, sounding breathless. “I wasn’t sure. I saw my mother on the balcony outside the rec room.” 

“Yeah, she took the key,” Sophie said. “And your dad took Ethan. Why the hell weren’t you watching him?” 

“I had something to take care of,” Zoe responded, flatly. “It isn’t my fault he woke up and decided to leave the trailer.” 

“You should’ve stayed with him,” Sophie snapped. “And now your father is going to do God knows what to him, because he’s - I can’t get to him.” 

Zoe was silent for a moment. “There’s a broken staircase, upstairs,” she said. “It drops down into the other area of the house. My father will have taken Ethan somewhere there. Maybe the pantry, or the garage. Probably the garage.”

“And what is he going to do to him?” Sophie demanded. 

“I don’t know,” Zoe said. “But you shouldn’t wait too long, or you’re gonna find out. Go now.” 

The call ended, and Sophie returned the phone to its cradle, before turning around and heading for the stairs again.

Notes:

The chapter title is born from the fact that there's not a lot of Sophie dialogue in this one, so I one of the few things she says that a) didn't give away too much about the plot, and b) did a good job of explaining the plot of the chapter at the same time.
Also, I'll probably be posting another chapter later today after I finish editing it. Come back in a few hours if you'd like to read it.

Chapter 18: "Yeah, well. Maybe just a little."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The staircase Zoe mentioned was broken, and it did lead down into a part of the house Sophie hadn’t seen before. She landed on her hands and knees, after jumping down through the hole, and she winced at the amount of noise the fall made, hoping no one had heard it. From what she knew, at least two members of the family were in this area of the house, and she didn’t want to attract the attention of either one of them. 

She glanced in both directions of the hall she’d jumped down into, rising into a crouch. There were a couple of doors down to her left, while the hall went straight down in front of where she’d landed, rounding another corner at the end. The doors were probably where she wanted to go, considering Jack had brought Ethan into this part of the house, but what about that other man? Sophie had no idea who he was, but she doubted she wanted to meet him. 

She jumped as she heard the clattering of pots and pans, from the door closest to where she was. She moved around the corner of the hall in front of her, and then peered around it towards that door. From the sounds, she thought it probably led into the kitchen. The double doors beyond it, then, were perhaps to a dining room? And the one across the hall… 

Her eyes widened, and she ducked around the corner when she saw Jack appear from that exact place, crossing the hall and pushing his way through the double doors. 

“Where’s supper?” she heard him demand. “We gotta welcome our guests.” 

“You don’t even know where they are,” Sophie heard Marguerite retort. Apparently, she’d made her way down to this part of the house as well. “Supper can wait. Find the girl.”

“Which one?” Jack asked. 

“You know which one,” Marguerite snapped. “The one the boy brought with him, which he wasn’t supposed to do. Eveline’s not happy.” 

“Eveline.” A third voice laughed. “She’s never happy ‘bout nothin’.” 

“Shut up, Lucas,” Jack growled. “I don’t know where she went, and the boy ain’t talkin’.” 

“Then make him!” Marguerite said, sharply. “We can’t let her get away.” 

“Don’t you think I know that?” Jack sounded frustrated. “She had a gun. If I’d know she’d actually use it -”

“Excuses,” Margueritte said, bitterly. “Find her. Now.” 

“Fuck,” Sophie whispered, and ducked back around the corner as the other door down the adjacent hall opened, and Jack stalked back out. She heard his boots hitting the floor, but they didn’t come in her direction. When she leaned around the corner again, she saw him disappearing back the way he’d come, and concluded that the garage or the laundry room must have lain in that direction. 

She tilted her head, to make sure the other two doors had closed again, before making her way down the hall after him. 

She paused in the entryway he’d gone through, finding a large sign that read “Garage” with an arrow pointing downwards hanging on the wall, indicating that the garage lay at the bottom of the steps she was facing. She inhaled, slowly, and made her way down them, holding out her gun in front of her as she did so. When she reached the bottom, she lingered there, hiding behind one of the walls on either side of the open steel door that led into the garage proper. She peered around it, and frowned when she spotted Jack again, standing over Ethan, who’d been dragged to the middle of the floor. 

“All right, boy,” Jack grumbled, crouching down next to him. Sophie watched, her grip around her gun tightening, as Jack forced Ethan upright into a sitting position, and smacked both of his cheeks, forehand across the left, backhand across the right. Ethan groaned, softly, and Jack grabbed the front of his shirt, shaking him. 

“Where’s the girl?”

Ethan mumbled something Sophie didn’t catch, and Jack shook him again. “Don’t give me that. You came here together, you know what she’d do. Where is she?” 

“Right here, motherfucker,” Sophie said, standing and stepping into the garage, aiming her gun at his head. Jack dropped Ethan immediately, and turned around to face her, his face breaking into a wide smile that was neither warm nor welcoming. 

“Good,” he said. “Thought you might come lookin’ for him.” He stepped towards her, and Sophie cocked the gun. Jack chuckled. “I’d advise against that,” he said. “My wife and boy upstairs, they’ll hear the shots and come runnin’. You don’t wanna deal with them and me at the same time, little miss.” 

“Try me,” Sophie growled. 

“Oh, I will,” Jack promised, and came towards her. Sophie made to pull the trigger, but before she could, Ethan wrapped a hand around Jack’s leg and yanked, causing the older man to stumble. Sophie, instead of actually firing the gun, hurried over and smashed it across his face, sending him reeling to one side. Using the gun like a set of brass knuckles, Sophie went after him, hitting him again. 

Jack snarled, and, as Sophie raised her arm to strike him a third time, he reached in with his opposite hand, and closed it around her neck, hefting her off the floor. Sophie choked, her vision blurring, as Jack squeezed, his features twisted into a look of pure rage. 

“You come into my home, threaten me, threaten my family -”

Sophie, against her will, and in a desperate attempt by her brain to retain oxygen, lost motor control. The hand holding her gun fell open, and the gun itself clattered to the floor. She made a vain attempt to kick at Jack’s chest, but her limbs refused to respond. As she felt Jack’s hand continue to tighten around her throat, fingers digging in, she wondered if this was really how she was going to die. 

“Let her go.” 

Sophie dropped to the floor, gasping, rubbing at her neck as her lungs expanded, retrieving air and feeding it to her starving brain. She blinked towards Jack, and watched, distressed, as he advanced on Ethan, who’d risen to his feet, her gun in hand. 

Something within her clicked into place as she remembered that they could not fire that weapon, and she forced herself to stand, before barreling into Jack’s back, and knocking him off his feet. Jack cursed as they both hit the floor, but then Ethan was there, holding him down. Sophie had her gun in hand again, and, using strength that had returned to her all at once, the moment he’d let her go, she raised the weapon over her head, and bashed it into his face, again and again. 

Shortly, Jack’s features were a mess of blood and one damaged eye, which she assumed wouldn’t mean much in the long run. She panted, and forced herself to deal him one final, hard blow, across the forehead. Jack’s head twisted to one side with the force, and did not roll forward again on its own. He was down. 

Sophie lowered the gun to her side, breathing heavily. She rose to her feet, staggering a little, her arm quivering. She glared down at Jack, waiting for him to get back up, almost wanting him to. She wasn’t done with him, not yet. 

“Sophie.” She started at Ethan’s voice, weak and filled with pain, and, her anger fleeing her, she turned to him. He’d crawled away from Jack, and curled up into himself, no doubt feeling the kicks Jack had dealt to his midsection out in the yard. She quickly crouched down beside him. 

“Here, move,” she said, aware that her voice was hoarse. She gingerly pulled his arms away from his chest, and then felt along his ribcage, certain she’d find evidence that he’d ended up with a broken one. Thankfully, however, they all felt intact, from what she could tell. She blew out a relieved breath, and focused on his face instead. His nose was bleeding, and both of his eyes were beginning to blacken. She winced, and retrieved the bottle of miracle juice Zoe had given her, uncapping it. 

“Tilt your head back for me,” she instructed, gently, guiding it to the position she needed it to be in. “Close your eyes. This might sting.” 

Ethan did as she asked, and she poured some of the miracle juice onto his face, focusing on his nose. Ethan inhaled a sharp breath, but Sophie watched as the dark shadows appearing beneath his eyes began to fade to the ugly yellow of a healing bruise instead. The blood flow from his nose stopped, and Ethan’s eyes opened again, blinking up at her. He then sat up, slowly, reaching up to touch his nose in surprise, before he looked at her. 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he said. 

“Miracle juice,” Sophie replied, capping the bottle and returning it to her satchel. She then reached out and wiped some of the blood away from his face. “What the fuck were you thinking, approaching him like that in the yard?” 

“I was thinking that he had you and Mia,” Ethan responded, turning to look at where Jack lay, his face a ruin. “You kicked his ass.” 

“We kicked his ass,” Sophie answered. “He was about to kill me.” She coughed, and rubbed at her throat again, the phantom pain of being strangled reasserting itself, now that Ethan was taken care of. “Jesus.”  

“Sophie, look at me.” She frowned, but did as he asked. She tensed, as he lifted his hands, and he hesitated, meeting her eyes. “I just want to see.” 

Sophie blinked at him, and then forced herself to remember that it was Ethan, and that he’d never hurt her. She offered him a small nod, and his hands moved to cradle her face beneath the jaw, very carefully not touching the bruises that were forming around her neck. He tilted his head, peering at them, and Sophie tried not to think about how he was cradling her face, or about his hands at all, and definitely not how she enjoyed the slightly-calloused feel to them, against her skin. 

“If I can,” Ethan began, after a moment, his voice a soft growl, “I’m going to kill him.” 

Sophie’s eyes fell shut. “Not if I get to, first,” she retorted, quietly.

Ethan’s hands left her jaw. “Would the miracle juice work on those?” he asked. 

She reached up to touch her neck, wincing against the tender pain she encountered. “I’d rather not waste it. I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” 

She smiled slightly, touched by his concern. “I’ll be all right,” she told him, and then forced herself to stand. 

“I think you must like me a little bit,” Ethan said, and she glanced down at him, surprised to see he was smiling. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered coming to find me.”

Sophie managed a weak huff, trying not to be amused. “Yeah, well. Maybe just a little.” She held her hand down to him. “We need to get the fuck out of here, but Zoe says that we can’t leave with Mia until we get her a serum.”

“A serum?” Ethan repeated, accepting her hand. She pulled him to his feet, and when he was upright, he frowned. “For what?” 

Sophie told him, repeating what Zoe had told her. Ethan listened, frowning, and when she’d finished, he sighed a little. 

“Where’d this infection come from?”

“She didn’t say,” Sophie replied. “They keep mentioning an ‘Eveline,’ too, but I don’t know who that is, or how she’s involved.” 

“Hm.” Ethan rubbed at the space between his eyebrows, and then looked back down at Jack, who had not moved. “Okay. Then it sounds like our first step is to get back out of this house, and to the old house.”

“Yeah,” Sophie said. “How we’re supposed to do that, though, I couldn’t say.” She went over to Jack, and stomped on his head, for good measure, before turning to Ethan again. “Let’s check the garage for anything that might be useful. Zoe had spare ammo on hand; there could be some in here, too.”

There was, a half-empty clip, and one that only had three bullets in it, in fact, but still, it was ammo she hadn’t had already. Ethan passed her the one he’d found, and she took a moment to replace the almost empty clip in her gun with a full one. She then put the spare ammo into her satchel, and faced Ethan. 

“All right,” she said. “From what I know, the wife and son are upstairs, waiting for Dad to get back so that they can have a nice family supper.” She went over to test the garage door that led outside, and found it locked. “Of course.” 

“Then I guess we only have one way,” Ethan said, moving towards the way she’d come in. 

“Looks like it,” Sophie said, and joined him. “Follow me. Try not to be too loud.” 

“Okay,” Ethan said, agreeably. 

She went up the stairs carefully, trying not to cause any of them to creak as she did so, Ethan followed behind her. When they’d reached the top, she peered into the hall, trying to get a sense of whether or not Marguerite and the other one, Lucas, she remembered Jack saying, were still beyond the two doors across the hall from them. She heard nothing, not even the clang of pots and pans, and she frowned to herself, wondering where they could have gone. 

She decided she didn’t trust the silence in the slightest, and turned to look at Ethan. She held a finger up to her lips, and he nodded back. She faced forward again, and slowly moved into the hallway, creeping past the two doors, and rounding the corner, aware of Ethan following after her. 

She led the way to the complete other end of the hall, where they found what Sophie had to assume was the same double doors she’d first seen from the other side, in the main hall. It was unlocked, which wasn’t promising, and when they went through, she realized why rather quickly. 

“No,” she said, softly, and hurried across the hall towards the door leading out into the yard. The Cerberus carving on the door was incomplete, missing its three heads. She’d known the damn thing was a key of some kind, and she cursed as she tried to push the door open, finding that it wouldn’t budge. 

She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted, and slowly turned back around, leaning against the door and hanging her head. 

“Hey,” she heard Ethan say. “That looks like the face of someone who’s about to give up.” 

“The door is locked,” she mumbled. She opened her eyes so that she could look at him. His shirt was torn in several places, the bandages she’d wrapped around his hands were dirty, but there was a certain fire in his eyes that reignited one within her. She lifted her head. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to find the key.”

“What is the key?” Ethan asked, and she gestured over her head, to the Cerberus carving. 

“Those three heads that are presently missing,” she said. “They were there when I came in, and now they’re gone.” She blew out a breath. “To get back out, we’ll have to find them.” 

“Okay, so we’ll find them,” Ethan concluded. Sophie hung her head again, and heard him step up to her. “Hey.” His hands wrapped around her upper arms, squeezing gently. “This sucks, I know that, and I know it’s my fault that we’re here, but to get out, I need your help.” 

She lifted her gaze to meet his, and Ethan raised his eyebrows a little. “You told me before we left Waco that it was going to be fine,” he said. “I need you to still believe that. For me. Can you do that?”

Sophie nodded, once, and Ethan offered her a smile, before letting go of her arms and stepping away. He looked around the main hall. “So, where’re we going?” he asked her. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I checked one of the rooms upstairs. There was another door in that same area I didn’t go through, ‘cause I had to hurry back down here to save your ass.” She started towards the stairs, heading up them. “I doubt that the other two are still in this part of the house.” 

“What makes you say that?” Ethan asked, following her up the stairs.

“Marguerite, the wife, she took the key to the old house with her, when I first got in here,” Sophie said. “I’d bet she headed over there, after hiding the dog heads. The son, Lucas… well, I’m hoping he isn’t here, still, but if he is -” She tapped her gun, where she’d returned it to its holster, and Ethan nodded in agreement. 

“Fair enough.” 

She led the way through the unlocked door at the top of the stairs, and went right down the hall on the other side instead, doubting that there was anything new of interest in the recreation room. There was another door, down the same branch of the hall, and she opened it for them both, finding a bathroom on the other side. 

“Huh,” Ethan said, after a moment. “It’s -”

“Gross,” Sophie finished for him, and approached the bathtub in the center. It was filled with water, for whatever strange reason, and she wrinkled her nose as she peered down at it. It was murky, no doubt due to whatever odd substance was also in the tub with it. After a moment, she concluded it was mold. 

“Oh, God,” she said, a sickening realization settling in. 

“What?” Ethan asked, joining her at the bathtub, another clip of ammo he must have found in his hand. 

Sophie blinked down at the mold. “The infection,” she said, quietly. “It - maybe it’s from this mold.” 

Ethan immediately frowned. “That’s - that’s not very reassuring, considering we’re standing next to a bathtub full of it,” he said. “What makes you think it's the mold?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie replied, “but… what else could it be?” 

“I guess, while we don’t know, we should be cautious, then,” Ethan said, after a moment. “Do we need anything out of the gross bathtub?” 

“I’m just wondering why it’s filled with water,” Sophie said. “I wish I could see the bottom.” She studied it for a moment longer, and then glanced at him. “What do you think?” 

Ethan grunted, and looked around the bathroom for a moment. He walked off, and Sophie watched as he retrieved a piece of rubble from a pile in the corner. He rejoined her at the tub, and, very carefully, reached out with the rubble to pull at the chain connected to the tub’s drain. He made a face, and tugged a bit harder. The chain gave, and the tub started to drain, the murky water disappearing from it at a rapid rate. Ethan tossed the rubble off to the side, and they both frowned at the wooden statue that appeared, as the last of the water drained from the tub. 

“What’s that?” he asked, and Sophie shook her head. 

“Dunno.” She tore off a fat strip of her shirt, and wrapped the statue in it, pulling it from the tub. “But if they were hiding it in disgusting bath water, it must be important.” 

“That’s probably true,” Ethan agreed. “I’ll trade you.” 

They did so, Ethan taking the wrapped statue, and Sophie taking the clip of ammo. She put it into her satchel, and Ethan adjusted his grip on the statue, frowning to himself. 

“I hate touching this,” he said, “so the sooner we can figure out what to do with it, the better.” 

“Let’s go, then,” Sophie replied, and led the way back towards the door of the bathroom, which had fallen closed behind them. As she pushed it open, she heard a different door bang against a wall from somewhere nearby, and she went cold inside, pushing back against Ethan on instinct and ushering him back into the bathroom, around to the other side of the tub. 

A moment later, Jack Baker stalked past the slowly closing door of the bathroom, looking extremely worse for wear, considering the damage she’d done to his face down in the garage. 

“Great,” she muttered. “Now we have to play hide and seek with him.” 

“Or we could just shoot him down, to give us some time,” Ethan suggested. 

“It takes at least two well placed bullets to get him down, Winters,” Sophie told him. “I’m not wasting my ammo like that.” She peered around the tub. “He’s going to come check in here. We need to be somewhere else before he does.” 

They exited the bathroom, and, since Jack Baker had gone right, Sophie elected to do the same. They came to the same balcony she’d been on, with no sign of him. They lingered on the balcony for a moment, while Sophie tried to decide what their best bet was. 

“Okay,” she said at last. “Let’s… let’s go to the recreation room. There’re two doors in there, the one closer to where we are, and the one you enter in through from inside the house. If he comes in one or the other, we can get out the opposite one, and find somewhere to wait him out again.” 

“Nope,” Ethan said, and Sophie turned to look at him. He shook his head. “You’re doing that control thing again, and I’m saying no.”

Sophie fumed. This really wasn’t the time for him to point out her character flaws. “But -”

“It’s better if we go back downstairs,” Ethan interrupted, pressing a finger to her lips. “He’s up here, and while he’s up here, we need to be down there, seeing if we can figure anything out. We don’t want to be where he is, Sophie.” 

She hated to admit it, but he probably had a point. He took his finger away from her lips, and, instead of arguing the way she wanted to, she nodded, once, and he smiled a bit. 

“Good,” he said, and tilted his head in the direction that they’d come from. “Let’s drop down that hole back there, get down to the first floor that way. We won’t have to avoid him if we do that.” 

Sophie let him lead the way, pulling out her gun again, just in case. Either Jack Baker had found some way to pass his time in the recreation room, or he’d disappeared through some hidden passage, because they did not encounter him on their way back down the hall. Sophie jumped down through the hole first, and then helped him down as well, noticing the way he winced when she brushed her hand against his ribs. 

“All right?” 

“Fantastic,” he managed, sounding a bit breathless. “Come on.” 

They walked through the hall on the bottom floor again, and returned to the main hall through the double doors. They paused inside of them for a moment, Sophie wanting to listen to see if she could hear any movement from upstairs. She didn’t hear anything, so she glanced at Ethan, and at the statue he still held, wrapped in a section of her shirt. 

“What do we do with that, then?” she queried.

Ethan glanced around the main hall, his gaze settling at last on the room with the projector and the empty pedestal. “What’s that about?” he asked, and Sophie followed him towards it. He considered the pedestal for a moment, and then the picture hanging on the wall, before he unwrapped the statue. He held it in front of the projector’s light, and its shadow appeared on the painting. 

“Weird,” he said, under his breath, and Sophie watched as he adjusted the statue’s position a bit, until the shadow it created against the painting took the shape of an eagle in flight. Almost at once, the wall the painting was on cracked open, revealing a hidden passage behind it. Ethan stepped back from the pedestal, brow furrowed, tossing the strip of her shirt away. “Who builds this shit?” 

“Crazies,” Sophie said, amazed that he’d figured it out. “How’d you -?”

“Took a wild guess,” Ethan replied, and headed towards the passage, just as a door slammed open from upstairs. 

“Where’s my little Ethan?” Jack Baker called in a sing-song voice. “Is Miss Sophie with you? I’d like to speak to both of you about our encounter in the garage, and how I plan to repay the favor.” 

“Go, go!” Sophie said, pushing him towards the passage. Ethan squeezed his way into the gap, and Sophie followed after him, heart pounding. They scooted their way along it to the other end, which opened out into a room with a stuffed deer in the center of it, and another one of those doors with the strange designs, this one a crow. The room itself had only one other way out of it that wasn’t the passage they’d exited from, and Sophie decided that this was where they needed to go, but maybe after they took a breather. 

“Jesus,” she sighed, sinking down onto the edge of the couch that was positioned in front of the deer. “This is crazy. We’re the crazies, Winters.”

“Maybe,” Ethan agreed wearily, pulling open the fridge that was against one wall. He reached into it, and pulled out a green bottle. “More miracle juice?” 

“Looks like it,” Sophie agreed. “I wonder if Zoe made a bunch and hid it all over the house.” She held her hand out for it, and Ethan passed the bottle over. She slipped it into her bag, and then rubbed at her eyes with her arm, briefly, before pushing herself to her feet. “Okay. Let’s keep going, before I can think too much.” 

Ethan nodded in agreement, and they both headed for the door that led out of the room. It passed into a separate room with a table and some shelves, one of which had another clip of ammo sitting on it. Sophie grabbed this, and stuck it into her bag, before turning to see that Ethan had paused in front of what looked like a child’s drawing, done on one wall. He reached out a hand, and traced his finger over the stick figure of a woman, that was labeled Mia.  

“I guess I’m glad that she wasn’t just trying to kill me because she hates me,” he said, after a moment. 

Sophie released a soft sigh. “Ethan -”

Before she could finish her thought, something thumped, in the next room over, startling them both. They exchanged a look, and Sophie moved closer to Ethan, pulling out her gun. Together, they advanced towards the door leading into the next room, and Sophie reached out, pulling it open, before quickly returning both hands to her gun. She frowned to herself, and took a step into the room, and then paused out of a mixture of horror and disgust as some sort of creature moved towards her, separating itself from a bunch of mold that was on one wall. It had blended into it because it itself was mold, too, just with arms and the ability to move. She aimed for what she thought might have been its head, and fired two rounds. The head exploded after the second bullet struck it, and the body slumped to the floor. 

Sophie lowered her gun, breathing heavily, and stared down at the body of… of whatever the fuck that had been. 

Ethan stepped up beside her. “What the fuck?” he asked, and then, with more feeling, “What the fuck?”  

“I don’t know,” Sophie said, softly, “but I have a feeling this isn’t the only one we’re gonna encounter.”

Notes:

Ethan swearing to kill Jack Baker after seeing how bad he hurt Sophie really gets the heart going, y'know?

Chapter 19: "Well, you're no good at protecting yourself."

Chapter Text

Sophie was right; they came across three more of the weird molded creatures as they continued down the new path they’d discovered, which led them to a hallway that had a door leading into a guest room of some kind, as well as one down a set of stairs that must have been the entrance to the basement. It was in the guest room where they took a moment to breathe, after having needed to kill those three molded. Sophie checked their ammo supply; not running low yet, but she definitely hadn’t been able to kill each molded with only two shots, as she had the first. 

“Fuck,” she muttered, under her breath, and then glanced at Ethan, who was trying to force open a drawer on a desk that must have been locked. He kicked it, after a moment, and moved over to open the wardrobe in the room instead. 

“Oh, good,” he said, reaching into it. Sophie lifted her eyebrow as he turned around, holding out a box. “Five shotgun shells. We don’t have a shotgun.” 

“There’s one in the main hall,” Sophie told him. “But it’s attached to an Indiana Jones-esque closing door puzzle.” She turned away from the notes she’d found on the desk in the room, both signed by the same person, someone named Travis, who’d apparently been here with his girlfriend or wife, at some point. She didn’t imagine either of them had made it out. She sincerely hoped that history did not repeat itself. “I guess our next step is to go down into the basement. I have a feeling we’ve exhausted all our options for now on this floor, with Papa Baker patrolling around out there.” 

“There’ll be more of those mold things downstairs,” Ethan said. 

“Probably,” Sophie replied, “but what else are we supposed to do?”

Ethan shook his head in response, and she nodded, switching out her partially empty clip for the last of the two filled ones Zoe had given her. “All right,” she said, and headed for the door of the guest room. “Down we go.” 

“I wish I had a gun,” Ethan mumbled from behind her, and she couldn’t help but agree with his sentiment. Although he’d only had a single day on a gun range, having an extra pistol on hand for him to use would ease some of the weight she currently felt resting on her shoulders to keep them both safe. Ethan didn’t even have a pocket knife to defend himself with. This didn’t inspire much hope for their continued survival, as she pushed her way through the door at the bottom of the stairs into the basement. 

The door opened onto a dank, stone-walled hallway. Sophie paused, listening for a moment, wanting to get a sense of what molded or otherwise might be waiting for them further on. She heard nothing, apart from Ethan’s breathing, and she furrowed her brows. 

“What?” he asked, after a moment, and she shushed him, closing her eyes. 

“I can’t hear anything,” she murmured at last. 

“Which is good, right?” Ethan queried, and she opened her eyes again. 

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, and began to move forward down the hall, Ethan following after her. 

They turned one corner, and something within Sophie told her that there was danger around the next. She motioned for Ethan to stay back, and then crept forward on her own, slowly, gun out. Before she’d reached the corner, a molded rounded it, schlumping along. It made a nasty sound when it realized she was there, and lurched towards her, swinging one of its long arms. Sophie jumped back to avoid it, and then aimed her gun, firing two quick shocks into its head, easy to do in close quarters. The head exploded, and Sophie lowered her gun, exhaling shakily. She jumped, when a hand brushed her back, but recalled that Ethan had been behind her, and forced herself to relax. 

“Sorry,” she apologized, looking at him briefly. 

“Don’t be,” Ethan said. “I’m sorry that you’re… having to do this.” He waved his hand at the molded. “If I’d known -”

“You still would have wanted to come,” Sophie said, quietly. “Mia asked for your help in her email, and that’s what you do for people: you help.” She kept going down the hall, stepping over the body of the molded, and heard Ethan follow after her. 

The hall went on for a bit more, until they encountered a door on their right. Sophie considered it for a moment, and then waved Ethan back before reaching out and opening it. A molded waited on the other side, and Sophie backed away from the door, taking aim. She fired one shot, missed, and cursed, having to sidestep to avoid the thing as it swung an arm at her. She quickly adjusted her aim again, and fired another shot. This bullet actually hit the molded’s head, thankfully, but it didn’t take it down the way she’d been hoping. Annoyed with herself for having missed the first shot, she angrily fired a third, and watched the molded go down. 

“Stupid fuckin’ things,” she grumbled. 

“They move a lot,” Ethan said. 

“We only have so much ammo,” she retorted, and Ethan frowned at her. She sighed, and lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help.”

“Kind of,” Ethan agreed, “but I guess it isn’t helping, so maybe I’ll just shut up.” 

“No, don’t shut up,” Sophie told him. “Just - don’t try to make me feel better about fucking up like that. It’s a waste of time.” She entered the room the molded had come from, and glanced around, frowning when she realized what the room was. 

Ethan released a breath as he joined her. “Why do they have an incineration room down here?” he asked, softly. 

“Why are they undead fucks who keep trying to kill us?” Sophie returned, and approached the note she saw posted to the wall over a sink. She read it twice, and decided that she really hated riddles. 

She turned back to the wall of incinerators, and considered it. “There’s someone in that last incinerator,” she said, echoing the note. “I don’t think we want to know who he is.”

“We might have to find out, if we want to keep moving forward,” Ethan said, reading the note himself, and then turning to the incinerators. He passed by all of them, all the way to the very end, which was the one he elected to open. Nothing happened when he did so, and he moved back down the line of them, to the one that had a red handprint over it. 

“Ethan -” Sophie began to warn, but he pulled it open before she could finish her thought. The incinerator at the other end cracked open, a cloud of vile-smelling steam emerging with it. Sophie gagged, and backed away from it, turning her head to the side, certain she was about to vomit. When she didn’t after a few seconds, she risked tilting her head upright again, and looked at Ethan. 

“Don’t do something like that again without saying you’re going to do it,” she groused, and then approached the end incinerator, to pull it open all the way. 

The moment she did, a molded poured out of it, growling or whatever the sound they made could be classified as, and she hurriedly backed away from it, moving instinctively in front of Ethan, to shield him as she took aim. 

“Sophie,” he began from behind her, and she fired, twice, quickly, without giving herself time to think about it, or the molded a chance to slide out of range. Its head burst, and she lowered her gun again, frowning down at it. She didn’t realize how tense her shoulders were until Ethan’s hands rested on them, gently. 

“It’s okay,” he said, quietly, and, to her shock, she felt him tilt his head forward, and press an unmistakable kiss to the back of hers. It was brief, over before she could really even think about it, maybe done quickly on his end so that he couldn’t think about it, and then he was moving around her, to stand in front of her instead. He offered her an amused look. “You’ve gotten really good about protecting me, did you notice?”

She snorted, and slid her gun into its holster. “Well, you’re no good at protecting yourself,” she said, and then went over to the incinerator the molded that had once been that man named Travis had slithered out of. Resting on the tray was a key, with a label attached to it that read “Dissection Room.” Sophie doubted they wanted to know what the fucking dissection room was, but no doubt they needed to find it, especially since the key had been important enough to hide in the incinerator with Travis. 

She turned back to Ethan, and held out the key towards him. “You hang onto this,” she said. “I’ll probably be too busy shooting things to unlock any doors.” 

“You’re probably right,” Ethan agreed, and took the key. 

They exited the incinerator room again, and continued going down the hall. Eventually, they reached an intersection, and Sophie elected to swing a right first. At the end of the hallway doing so brought them down was a green gate of sorts, which they got open together, although the sounds it made in the process were alarming and definitely would have attracted attention to them from anything down there to hear it. 

On the other side of the gate was another room, with a door to their right, and a set of shelves directly in front of them. Sophie considered the door, and undid the lock on it, opening it up to peer through it. She found herself looking at a familiar area of the basement, and concluded it was probably a locked door they’d gone past on their way to the incinerator room. 

She turned to find Ethan had unearthed some handgun ammo and more shotgun ammo from an initial examination of the room they were in, which opened up into a larger space the further you moved into it. Sophie accepted the ammo, putting it into her satchel, before moving deeper into the room. 

The room appeared to be some sort of… meat locker, considering the bag of meat on the metal table in the center of it. There was something sticking out of it, and when she got closer, she saw the familiar scorpion design that she’d spotted on a couple of doors she’d seen at this point, and she reached out to tug the key from the bag. 

“Cool,” she said, turning to show it to Ethan. “I bet we can unlock those doors with this design on them, now. There was one up in the recreation room. Maybe there’ll be a clue about where the dog heads are in there, or, even better, all three of them are in there.” 

“There was one in the hall with the guest room, too,” Ethan said. “I think it was just a connecting point to the main hall.” 

“Still, easier movement around this place,” Sophie said, and handed it to him. “Let’s get back upstairs, so that we can unlock those.”

Ethan frowned a bit. “Shouldn’t we see what the dissection room is, first?” he asked. “Since we’re already down here?” 

Sophie frowned a bit to herself. She really would have felt better with more ammo on hand, and there might have been more upstairs, in that locked room. Still, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to convince herself to come back down into the basement, once they were free of it, and would feel better about their whole venture if they could leave the place behind for good, once they’d concluded their business there. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, you’re right. Since we’re down here anyway, we might as well stay until we’re done.” She took a moment to fill her spare clips with bullets, and managed to get one filled all the way, and another with four. The limited number of bullets was not ideal, but it was what they had. 

When she’d reloaded her gun with the full clip, she looked at him. “Maybe we can shoot and run,” she suggested, and Ethan nodded in agreement. 

“Maybe. One to stun them, and then get away from them.”

“Might be wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot,” she said. 

They took another moment to examine the room they were in, before turning back and retracing their steps. They took the branch of the hall that they hadn’t at first, and found themselves facing a partially opened door. Sophie reached out to nudge it open with the toe of her shoe; a set of steps on the other side that led down into what appeared to be a bathroom of sorts waited on the other side. A bathroom, she was dismayed to see, that was filled with mold. 

“Shit,” she said, and glanced back at Ethan. “Stay here.”

“You’re kidding,” he retorted, and she shook her head. His eyes widened. “Soph, I’m not -”

“What?” she asked him. “You’re not what? Gonna let me go in there by myself? You literally won’t do anything for me down there, aside from give me something to worry extra to worry about.” She poked his chest with her forefinger. “Stay. Here. If I don’t come back, use that scorpion key and go unlock those doors, but be careful. I didn’t save you from Jack that first time just to let you get killed by him because you suck at hide and seek.” 

Ethan gazed at her, his expression somewhere between frustration and concern. “I don’t -”

“Hey,” she said, lowering her voice a bit. She rested her hand against his chest instead, over his heart. She pretended that hadn’t been intentional. “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” she reassured with a small smile. “I can take care of myself. I’ll come back for you, but if I don’t, don’t come looking for me.”

“Soph -”

“Promise me, Winters,” she insisted. “If I don’t come back, you leave, and figure this shit out on your own so that you can get the hell out of here.” 

Ethan shook his head. “I won’t leave without you,” he said, firmly. 

Sophie suppressed a small sigh. He was too chivalrous for his own good. 

“Fine,” she said. “You don’t have to leave the farm, but at least promise you’ll try to find your way out of this house, and to the old house instead, so that you can help Zoe and Mia.” He frowned at her, and she lifted her eyebrows, tilting her head a little, and offered him her imploring expression, the one that had, once upon a time, convinced him to tell her all the state capitals in less than a minute. “Please.”  

There was a long moment of silence. 

“Fine,” Ethan finally said, softly, and she smiled a little, righting her head again. “But I won't leave you here.”

“Okay,” Sophie said, feeling certain that, once he’d helped Mia, his ex would be able to convince him to leave with her, and thus save him from whatever danger he might try to put himself in by coming after Sophie, were she not able to return to him. Something inside her was fairly insistent she wouldn’t be coming back out of the basement, and she wanted to be sure that Ethan would get out himself, despite that.

She hesitated a moment, and then retrieved the extra clip of ammo out of her satchel, before taking it off and handing it to him. 

“Sophie -”

“Nope, it’ll be easier for me to move around down there without it,” she interrupted. “The easier I can move, the easier I’ll be able to deal with anything that’s waiting.” She blew out a breath, and turned to face the bathroom, adjusting her grip on her gun. 

“Wait,” Ethan said, and she turned her head to look at him again. He hesitated a moment, before he reached out and pulled her into a tight hug. Sophie closed her eyes, and hugged him back, hiding her face very briefly against his neck. 

This would’ve been a lot less terrible if he hadn’t hugged me, she thought to herself. 

Thus, she pulled back after only a few seconds, and smiled once more. “Be right back, but if I’m not, go.”  

Ethan looked pained, but all the same he nodded, once, and she nodded back, before moving into the bathroom, and stepping down the stairs. 

She didn’t think her hit-and-run method would work, in this case, considering that the dissection room probably lay on the other side of the bathroom, and whatever was past it. She’d need to take out all of the molded she encountered on the way there, so that Ethan would be able to get through safely. 

She moved slowly forward through the bathroom, expecting a molded to disengage itself from any of the mold piles around the room. None did, and she let her guard drop a little, along with her gun, which she’d had up at chest level. Maybe she’d been wrong, and there was nothing here.

She realized her mistake when a molded poured through a hole in the wall at the top of a second set of steps, on the other side of the bathroom, at the same time one dropped from the ceiling to her right. Sophie cursed, and dodged around them both, moving into the room beyond the stairs. It was warm in there, and the different boilers inside of it were running strong, producing a red hue within the space that made everything look a lot more menacing than necessary, including the three new molded that she heard moving through it. 

“Fuck me,” she said, knowing she was in a lot of trouble. Her resolve set in, and she cocked her gun, taking aim at one of the molded that had followed her from the bathroom. “C’mon then, beasties. Let’s fuckin’ dance.” 

She fired two shots. One hit the molded in the head, and the other went wide as she was forced to move out of the way of one of the ones that had approached from within the boiler room. She twisted away from it around to the other side of the first boiler, where she came face to face with another molded. This one she was actually able to take out in two shots, because she didn’t need to try and get them into its head, considering how close she was to it. She tried not to react as its head exploded and some of its gross ended up on her face. She instead moved deeper into the room, rounding a second boiler. 

At her back, she heard another molded, but one of the ones from the bathroom was a more present threat, so she focused her attention there, first. She shot it down, but was not fast enough to turn and face the one behind her before it successfully struck her in the back. She couldn’t bite back the yelp that was startled from her chest, brought on by the sharp, almost icy pain that the molded’s blow had sent through her. She staggered forward away from it, desperate to put distance between her and it, but the monster merely lurched along after her, as well as the second molded from the bathroom. 

She found herself trapped between those two, and the third molded that she’d heard in the boiler room, all three of which were coming towards her, arms swinging, unaware of their molded compatriots, focused solely on her. She fired a bullet at the one closest to her, and watched with mild satisfaction as its head burst on impact, but it wasn’t enough. She turned to fire at the one on her left, but her gun clicked uselessly in her hand. She cursed, and tried to dodge around the one that approached on her left. She managed to do so, but only after it struck her on the shoulder, sending another bout of icy pain through her. She hissed, tugging the spare clip she’d grabbed from her satchel out of her pocket and reloading her gun, just before the molded knocked her to the floor, latching the gaping maw that emerged from its dark, squishy body around her shoulder. 

She yelled a profanity, brought her gun up against its head and fired, then aimed for the final molded’s head as the one gnawing at her exploded. She shot her gun twice more, and its head disappeared in a spray of the disgusting stuff. Sophie’s own head fell back against the stone floor. Against her will, her eyes fluttered shut, and did not open again.

Chapter 20: "Oh, fuck, I'm dead, and this little girl is my Agent of Death."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Sophie had no sense of how much time passed as she experienced a number of different things, while somewhere between unconsciousness and wakefulness. The first sensation she recalled was that of hearing the laughter of a child, and then a small hand grasping around her wrist, cold to the touch. It was gone as quick as it was there, and she’d wonder later if she’d imagined it. 

The next experience she could remember when she woke was hearing Ethan’s voice, calling her name, and then seeing his face over hers, his eyes full of worry. She thought she could remember trying to tell him that he’d broken his promise, but she didn’t think he’d understood her, because he’d given her no response. She’d felt a stinging sensation, on her neck and shoulder, and then again on her back, before she was lifted, and her awareness faded once again. 

When she awoke, it was slowly, her eyes drifting open, vision blurry. She blinked once, her eyelids heavy, and then tried to remember where she was. Peering around the space she found herself in, she realized that she didn’t recognize it at all, and panic surged in her chest. She’d been at the Baker farm, with Ethan, and she’d gone down in the basement, but where had she ended up? The room she was in was not familiar, although the wood paneling and the wallpaper suggested she was still at the farm, in the Bakers’ house. 

“Hello.”  

Sophie would have jumped, had her muscles been moving at the appropriate speed. Instead, she found herself slowly turning her head in the direction the voice had come from, apparently needing to take much longer than normally necessary to perform such a simple movement. When her eyes finally focused on the source of the voice, she felt them widen just as slowly as her head had turned, almost as though a slow-motion filter had been injected into her. Or perhaps into the room she was in. 

Oh, fuck, I’m dead, and this little girl is my Agent of Death.  

The little girl in question had dark hair, and wore a dark dress. She giggled. “You’re not dead, silly,” she said, brightly. “You can’t die. I won’t let you.”  

“What… what are you…?” Sophie’s tongue felt like a foreign species within her mouth. She was marginally surprised she was able to speak at all. 

The little girl lifted up onto her toes, like a bird before taking flight. “I’m Eveline,” she said. “You’re Sophie. And you get to be my new mommy.”  

Sophie stared at the girl in a mixture of confusion and fear. She had no notion of what she was saying, or what her words meant. Her new mommy? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Jack Baker had mentioned an Eveline, when he’d been talking to Ethan in the yard, but Sophie had really no idea as to what the child’s importance was, or even what role she played in the whole mess. 

Eveline crossed her arms over her chest. “Mia was supposed to be my mommy, but she’s boring,” she said, plaintively. “I got her dumb husband here and everything for her, but all she wants to do is leave.” Her dark eyes looked Sophie over. “You won’t leave, though, because he’s here for you, instead of her, now. I didn’t think you’d come, but I’m glad you did. You’re better than Mia ever was.” 

Sophie swallowed, dryly, and focused on her words. “I don’t… understand what you’re… saying,” she said, carefully. Eveline frowned at her. 

“Don’t be stupid, too,” she complained. “You’re going to stay here with me. You and him. And we can be a family.”

Sophie blinked at her, her brain not moving fast enough to truly process what Eveline was saying. The little girl seemed frustrated. 

“Whatever,” she mumbled, uncrossing her arms. “You’ll be easier to talk to later. It’s moving too slow, still. By the time I get him, you’ll be ready, and you can explain everything to him. He’ll listen to you.” She paused, for a moment, and Sophie thought she saw a glimmer of anticipatory hope flicker across her expression. “I think we’ll be happy, all three of us, because you love one another, and you can love me, too, can’t you?” 

Sophie didn’t respond, mostly because she couldn’t, but also because she didn’t want to. She had no idea if the kid was confused, or maybe she was just as crazy as the Bakers were. The last thing she wanted was to stay on the farm, and she really didn’t want to become Eveline’s mother, either. 

She recognized the fury on Eveline’s face a moment after it appeared. “Don’t think like that!” the girl snapped, angrily. “You’re my Mommy! You have to be, because I said so! No one gets to choose anymore, because things go bad when they do! I want a mommy, and a daddy, and I want to be a family! I want a family!”  

“Eveline!” Sophie flinched, a little belatedly, at the familiar voice that rang around the room, somehow booming louder than Eveline’s own shouted speech had. The girl scowled in the direction of the closed doors on the side of the room, and then she looked at Sophie, her eyes dark with frustration. 

“I’ll find you later,” she said, waspishly. “Maybe you’ll know you want to be my mommy by then.” 

The girl disappeared, moving out of Sophie’s line of sight faster than Sophie could turn her head to follow her, and then a new set of shoes crossed the floor into the room Sophie was in. Sophie forced her gluey muscles to cringe back against the arm of the couch she’d realized she was sitting on as Jack Baker appeared. His eyes landed on her, and, to Sophie’s surprise, his expression changed from frustration to one of concern almost immediately. 

“Easy,” he said, carefully, and stepped closer to the couch, holding out his hands. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I wouldn’t have before, if I’d been able to help it.” 

Sophie couldn’t get her throat to make any words, and Jack Baker exhaled, lowering his hands. 

“It must be fresh in you,” he said, sounding remorseful. “This first part is the worst, but it lasts the least amount of time. You’ll be movin’ faster than you ever thought you’d want to soon enough.” 

“W-what…?”

“I know, I know, it doesn’t make any sense,” Baker said, walking around the couch to settle down on the loveseat next to it. “But it will. And by then, you probably won’t mind it so much. Not on the outside, anyway.” He sighed. “No sense trying to have a conversation. I doubt you’ll be able to take in much of it.” 

Sophie had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, and it sounded as though he wasn’t planning on telling her, either. She supposed it didn’t matter so much, as long as she was able to wake up from whatever waking nightmare she was in, and get back to Ethan. 

Just the thought of him was enough to set her heart racing with worry. She looked intensely at Baker, doing her best to furrow her brow and make him understand the expression, since she couldn’t speak clearly. 

“The boy?” he asked, after he studied her for a moment, and she lifted her hand and smacked it down on the couch cushion as a sign of confirmation. Baker blew out a breath. “Dunno. He’s somethin’ special, I can tell you that much. Whether that’s gonna help him in the long run, I couldn’t say.”  

To Sophie, it sounded as though Ethan was still alive, which was enough for her. Her shoulders relaxed, albeit slowly, and she leaned her head back a little, looking up at the ceiling of the room. Everything Eveline had said made no sense to her, and she didn’t have the capacity to sort through it, at the moment. The one thing she knew, however, was that she needed to get to Ethan before that weird little girl did. If nothing else, she didn’t want him to go through what she was presently dealing with, because it was all just too fucking weird. 

“Sophie? Can you try to listen, at least?” Her head raised again, and her eyes settled once more on Jack Baker. He was looking at her, still with that same remorseful expression on his face, mostly in his eyes, which were actually rather sweet behind his glasses. Why hadn’t this been the Jack Baker she and Ethan had run into in the attic of that first house they’d entered? Things would have been much nicer, had that been the case. 

“I know none of this makes sense to you, right now,” Baker said, “but I know it will eventually, and I… I want to tell you now how sorry I am, for the way I acted, for what I did to you. It was her, Eveline, she - what she does to people, it… it changes them, for the worse, and that’s what you encountered, out there, when it came to me. I am truly sorry for hurting you the way I did, for saying things I said.” He paused, and then shook his head. “I’d say it wasn’t me, but that’d be a big lie. It was me, just… the worst version of me that could exist.” 

Sophie blinked at him, and was marginally relieved when she realized the blink didn’t take nearly as long as all her blinks prior to it had. Jack Baker smiled a bit, although there was sadness behind it. 

“Sophie, you and Ethan both, if you can… you stop this. However you have to. You might not remember me asking, but I… I have to hope that you will, and that you’ll do your best.” His hand opened and closed into a fist a few times as he looked down at it, or perhaps at the ring he wore on his left hand's fourth finger. “Free my family,” he said, quietly, lifting his gaze back up to meet hers. “Please.”  

Sophie, touched by his genuine words, wanted to respond to him, to reassure him that things would be fine, but before she could even get her mouth open, she felt her eyes growing heavy again, the lids drooping. 

No, no, wait, things were getting normal, she thought, desperate, struggling to keep her eyes open. Baker sensed her distress, and he rose from the love seat, moving towards where she was on the couch. 

“Don’t fight it,” he advised. “You’re wakin’ up, now. Go find your boy, and you both do what you can to get out of here, whatever that little girl has to say. Don’t you listen to her.” 

Sophie managed nothing more than a soft groan before her head fell back against the arm of the couch, and her eyes closed completely on the mystery room, and the mystery world she had to have entered into. 

***

When consciousness returned again, it came to her all at once, forcing her eyes open and her to inhale sharply, which renewed the dull pain that had lingered in her throat. Sophie sat up, probably more quickly than she should have, and regretted it the moment her head yelped in pain. Her eyes were burning, most likely to due to the fact that she’d slept in her damn contacts. She cursed her bad vision, then forced herself to think, and look around, to figure out where the fuck she was. 

She spotted the open doors of a wardrobe, first, and then a dresser and desk. After a moment, she deciphered that she was in the guest room that Ethan had discovered those shotgun shells in, the one near the stairs leading down into the basement. Ethan must have brought her here, after he’d found her. 

She winced, remembering the mess that had been her foray into the bathroom and boiler room. She reached up to touch her shoulder, certain she’d find a gaping wound there. Instead, she found her shirt torn, and healed over skin. She frowned to herself, then remembered that they’d had miracle juice on-hand. Ethan must have used some on her injuries. Surprisingly, too, her neck wasn’t tender anymore. She supposed the miracle juice did work on bruises, although she found swallowing a bit difficult, still. Less neck pain, though, was something, as was the fact that she hadn’t ended up bleeding out on the floor of the boiler room.

But where was Ethan?  

She scooted off the bed, and gave herself a moment, adjusting to standing up again. How long had she been out? It felt like ages (she was almost positive she’d dreamed, although she could recall none of it.), but she had no real way of knowing, not until she could get to a window and peer outside. She looked around, hoping to see her gun laying somewhere nearby, but wasn’t surprised when she didn’t. Ethan must have taken it with him, wherever it was he’d gone. She didn’t blame him, only hoped that he was actually able to use it to his advantage. 

She did, however, find a pocket knife, shoved into the wood of the desk. She frowned at it, confused, and pulled it free, examining it. It definitely hadn’t been there, when they’d first found the guest room, which meant Ethan must have unearthed it at some point, and left it for her. When had that been? How long ago had it been? 

She sighed, and flipped the knife over a few times, getting a feel for it in her palm. She swung it back and forth, and decided she could probably use it to defend herself from the Bakers, at least, if not from the molded. 

The molded. Oh, fuck. Even with her gun, Ethan didn’t stand a chance against those things, not with the way they moved and how bad his aim was, based on their single trip to the shooting range. She had to find him. 

“Ethan,” she whispered, and went to the door of the guest room. She pushed against it, to open it, but found something blocking it on the other side. She gritted her teeth, and shoved against it with her right shoulder, the one that hadn’t been injured. Whatever had been moved in front of the door shifted just enough to create a gap for her to slip through. Out in the hall, she found that a whole-ass couch had been moved in front of the door, and she smiled to herself for a moment, knowing Ethan had probably done that in an effort to keep her safe. 

She really needed to get back to doing the same for him. 

She went first to the basement steps, and down them, pushing her way through the door at the bottom. The basement was silent, no doubt cleared out of all molded, partially thanks to her, perhaps partially thanks to Ethan, although she doubted it. She moved through the maze of halls, eventually finding her way to the bathroom and the boiler room, and she spotted a door in the latter that was hanging open. She went through, finding a set of shelves blocking the way, and the rank smell of something dead lingering pungently in the air. 

She swallowed back the bile that rose up in her throat, and went through the door to her left. She took the stairs on the other side, and ducked through yet another door at the bottom. The smell grew worse as she stepped out into what, to her, looked to be some sort of warehouse for the dead. She frowned to herself, finding the abandoned remains of a chain saw and some other piece of lawn equipment, as well as a pile of… something, surrounded by the rusted stain of blood. A lot of blood, in fact, and there was more of it all over the room. Something had gone on down here, but there was no body left for her to decide what, exactly, that had been. 

She frowned to herself, looking around the room one final time, before she turned and exited it again. It appeared the basement had run its course. She just hoped that Ethan had managed to run said course without -

She shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. He was fine.

As she worked her way back through the basement, she paused, when she heard the distinct sound of a child’s laughter. She turned in the direction it had come from, and thought she caught sight of a young girl with black hair as she disappeared around a corner, but when Sophie went to look around the corner herself, there was no sign of her. Sophie made a face, backing away from the corner again, and shook her head as a voice in the back of her head told her it was a bad idea to try and go after the little girl. Don’t you listen to her, it seemed to say. That was enough to convince Sophie to get moving again, since she usually preferred to rely on her gut instincts. 

She needed to find Ethan, anyway. 

Sophie made her way back upstairs, to the hall with the guest room. She turned left at the top of the stairs, and then right, towards the scorpion door that led back out into the main hall. She hoped that Ethan had actually unlocked it, and found that he had, at some point, because it opened for her. She moved through it, slowly, wondering if Jack was still around to cause her problems. She paused right outside the door, within the main hall, and took a moment to listen. 

Nothing. The house itself wasn’t even making any noise, despite the thunder and rain she could hear going on outside.

Speaking of outside…

Sophie glanced to her right, where the Cerberus door leading into the yard was. She blew out a relieved breath when she saw that the dog heads were back in place, meaning Ethan had managed to find his way out, after helping her. She was glad that he had done what she’d asked, at least partly. She headed towards it, and pushed her way through into the rear yard.

Notes:

By my count, Sophie had about... four speaking lines, this chapter? So, uh, I went with a thought instead, for the chapter title.
Also that scene in RE7 where Ethan ends up in the shared consciousness of all Eveline's victims and Jack Baker is wonderful? It's my favorite scene in the game, and I wanted to include its essence, somehow.
And, everyone applaud DannyPhantom619 for guessing the series of events in terms of Eveline's plan! I'd rather have Sophie as my mom than Mia, too, so I can't really blame her.

Chapter 21: "Yes."

Notes:

I doubt anyone gives a shit, but there're some "Game of Thrones" spoilers at the very end of this chapter.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The night air, cooled a bit by the summer storm, was a relief against Sophie’s face, which, she realized belatedly, felt hot, almost feverish. She sincerely hoped that it had nothing to do with the molded that had managed to attack her in the basement, and everything to do with her resparked adrenaline. She peered around the yard for a moment, judging if it was free of threats, before she hurried across it to the trailer. 

Once through the door, she closed and latched it behind her, and then leaned back against it for a moment, inhaling shakily. She looked around the trailer, trying to decide if anything was different, indicative of Ethan paying it another visit on his way to wherever he’d gone after leaving the main house. She noticed that Zoe’s suitcase was gone, no longer on the table; Zoe herself must have taken it with her, when she’d left Ethan alone that first time. She wondered where Zoe was now. 

A phone began to ring, and Sophie jumped, not having expected any sudden sounds. She found the phone on another small table, shoved inside the trailer’s small closet.She picked it up, and brought it to her ear. 

“Still alive?” Zoe asked her, from the other end. 

“Yes,” Sophie said, finding that she was glad to hear that Zoe was as well. “Do you know where Ethan is?” 

“Last I heard, in the old house,” Zoe replied. “He’s figuring out what we need to make the serum.” 

“Which is what, exactly?” Sophie questioned. 

“Not sure yet,” Zoe said. “Ethan’s takin’ care of it.”  

Sophie tightened her grip around the phone. “Does he need help?”

“Not from you,” Zoe said at once. “He told me what happened in the basement. Stay in the trailer. And keep an eye out for my brother.”

Sophie searched her memory. “Lucas, you mean?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” Zoe responded. “He spends most of his time over in the barn, but that doesn’t mean he won’t come looking in the yard for you. He and my mother both know you’re still on the property, although Marguerite’s busy with your boyfriend.” 

“Not my boyfriend,” Sophie said at once, although she knew it was rhetorical to do so. “So, stay in the trailer?” 

“It’s what I’d do,” Zoe replied. “I’ll call you again, once I talk to Ethan.” 

Sophie blew out a breath. “Okay,” she said.

The other end clicked, and Sophie lowered the phone back to its cradle. She frowned down at it for a moment, and then considered the pocket knife she still held in her other hand. The old house. Ethan was there. She knew Zoe had told her the best choice was to remain in the trailer, but… how did she know that Ethan was all right on his own? He’d gotten out of the main house without help, that was true, but arguably only after she’d dealt with all the molded in there for him. He might have only had to find the dog heads and put them in the door. There wasn’t any combative skill necessary to do that. 

No, you saw the fighting pit in the basement, she reminded herself. 

Jack Baker. The fact that Sophie hadn’t encountered him within the house indicated he was gone. She had to assume that Ethan had managed to finish him off, which would have explained the room she’d found with the gross and blood and busted chainsaw. If her assumption was correct, she had to hand it to Ethan: when it came down to it, the city boy could, apparently, take care of himself. 

All the same, for obvious reasons, she would feel a lot better if she were with him. 

And if she had her gun in her hands again. 

She squared her shoulders, and pushed her way out of the trailer, into the yard. 

She’d stepped down off the metal stairs leading up into the trailer, and had begun to walk around it to the path leading off to the left, when she felt something collide with the back of her head. She grunted, and stumbled forward into the soft dirt left bare by the numerous feet that had tread the path to the old house. 

She managed to roll over onto her back, head spinning, and found herself blinking up at the same balding man she’d seen before in the main house, the one in the dark hoodie. He had to be Lucas Baker, and he was currently smiling down at her as though she were the best thing he’d ever seen. 

“Hoo-whee!” he cheered. “Glad I found ya, sweetheart. We been lookin’ all over fer ya.” 

Sophie cursed at him, and scooted backwards, using her elbows as leverage. Lucas merely followed after her, clearly in no hurry. 

“When you went missin’, after the guest house, my daddy was real upset,” he continued. “Said to me, “We gotta find her, Lucas. Find her, or I’ll skin you,” so I knew I had to find ya. No fun to be skinned, lemme tell you.” He grinned. “Seems to me he found you first, judgin’ by those bruises on your neck. What d’ya do, shoot him in the head? He hates gettin’ shot there. I made the mistake of doin’ that, once. Never did it again, after he came back and almost did the same to me.” Lucas cackled. “Got away from him, though! Always been faster than the old man!”

Sophie cursed as she ran into something behind her, impeding her slow movement across the ground, and knew she had to try to defend herself instead. She clenched her teeth, and swung her leg around, sweeping it under his. Lucas yelped as she successfully knocked him to the dirt, and she quickly turned over onto her stomach again, trying to push herself up on quaking arms, weakened by the blow he’d dealt to the back of her head, paired with the aches she felt from her other injuries. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Lucas growled from behind her, and then he had a hand twisted into her hair, yanking her head back. Sophie couldn’t help but let out a shriek of pain as he dragged her backwards by her hair. She scrabbled at his arms, trying to free herself. Her foot brushed against something metal, and she recognized the pocket knife Ethan had left for her. She grabbed for it, and then sliced at his wrists with it, bitter exaltation flooding through her when she felt warm blood course from the cuts over her hand. Lucas was cursing colorfully, but his grasp in her hair merely tightened. Before Sophie could try to twist herself away, even if it meant losing some hair in the process, his arm closed around her throat. Sophie’s cry due to the pain in her neck blossoming to life once again as he squeezed against her bruises was cut short as he pressed against her windpipe.

“Guess I can see why Ethan likes you so much,” he said, as she thrashed against him, not wanting to let herself be made useless by yet another fucking man trying to choke the life out of her. Lucas merely knocked the knife from her hand, and she realized her vision was going dark, the fight leaking out of her as she struggled to draw in air for the second time that night. Lucas’s breath was warm and damp against the side of her face as he leaned in close to speak into her ear: “You’re kinda intense, but he must appreciate that.” 

Sophie’s struggles grew fainter, until they faded all together, at the same time her eyes fluttered, once, twice, before she felt herself slump in his arms. Unconsciousness had come to her yet again.. 

***

There was no mix of different awareness, this time, before she woke up. Instead, it happened slowly, eyes yet again burning (her contacts had to be fucked beyond repair, at this point). There was no rapid inhalation of air; on the contrary, she ended up coughing as she tried to breathe, but found it difficult to do so. Getting choked twice in one night probably wasn’t ideal for the organs within her neck. 

She swallowed as best she could, considering the mix of dryness and aching pain in her throat. She then forced her eyes to open fully. 

Her hands were bound around what appeared to be the leg of a table. She turned her head, to peer around the rest of the room as best as she could, and decided she was in a shack of some kind. The walls were wood, the floor was wood, and so was the ceiling. There was a window, and the sky was pitch black beyond it. 

“You’re Sophie, right?” 

She startled at the voice, realizing she wasn’t alone, and focused on where it had come from. She found herself staring at Mia Winters, also bound, leaning against the wall beneath the window. Her dark hair hung in her face, but her eyes were focused on Sophie, although they seemed to be clouded with uncertainty, or pain, or perhaps both. 

“Yeah,” Sophie managed, in response to her question. Man, talking with the way her throat felt almost made her wish she was just dead already. If there wasn’t permanent damage in there somewhere, she’d be amazed. 

She forced herself to glower at Mia. The pain in her throat would have to be put on the back burner in terms of focus. “We’ve met,” she muttered. “Remember?” 

Mia winced a little, away from the barely subdued rage in Sophie’s voice, no doubt. “I do,” she said, softly. “I’m sorry, but… that wasn’t me.” 

Something inside of Sophie’s mind struggled to flicker to life, a forgotten memory of something important, maybe, but it burned out and died as she swallowed again, causing another eruption of liquid fire to coarse through her throat. She decided not to waste her voice on bitterness. Instead, she focused on what was more important: “Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” Mia admitted. “Lucas found me in the old house, brought me here, and a little while later, he brought you, then left again. I don’t know where he went.” 

Sophie huffed, and twisted her wrists. “Why haven’t you tried to get out of here?” 

“There’s no point,” Mia murmured. “I can’t leave the farm.” 

“Well, that’s what we’re trying to fix,” Sophie said, “which is why I need to get out of here, at least.” She bent her head, to try and get her teeth around the knot in the rope binding her to the table, but couldn’t get the right angle. She cursed, and rattled the table, wondering if she could get it to lift off the floor, but found it to be bolted in place. “Fuck.” She looked over at Mia once more. “Tell me what else you know about this place.”

Mia merely shook her head, and Sophie scowled at her. 

“Don’t. Ethan and I came here to get you, because you sent him an email. The least you can do is explain -” 

“But I don’t know,” Mia told her. “Really. I - I don’t know how I got here, or… or what I was doing before I got here. It’s the infection, I think. Or at least, that’s what Zoe said -”

The door to the room flew inwards, then, as Lucas appeared, dragging a struggling Zoe behind him. He pulled her over to the window, and bound her to a metal loop sticking out of the wall there, before he turned to look at Sophie. 

“Oh, Sleepin’ Beauty’s awake!” he said, brightly. “That’s good.”

“Where’s Ethan?” Sophie demanded of him, and Lucas grinned, as though he’d been expecting her to ask that exact question. 

“Well, lemme think,” he said, and tapped his chin. “Last I checked, your knight in shinin’ armor was fightin’ my mama, over at the greenhouse. He probably got outta there okay, but who knows if he got around the molded in the old house’s attic.” He gestured to Zoe. “She was on her way to the trailer, so I’m assumin’ he got what they needed, and they was gonna meet up, to make that serum everyone’s so excited ‘bout.” He crouched down in front of Sophie, and she cringed away from the object he held up to show her, which, to her, looked like a dried out fetus. “Course, can’t get very far with only one of the ingredients, which means he’s gotta come lookin’ for this one.” 

Sophie glared at him. “If you hurt him -”

Lucas hooted. “You’ll do what?” he queried, eyes shining. He’s deranged, Sophie realized. “Kill me? I’d be happy to see you try, Princess.” His grin widened. “Actually, y’know what? That gives me an idea!” He straightened up. “Y’all wait here. I’ll be back quick as I can.”

He left the shack again, slamming the door behind him, and Sophie turned towards Zoe. “Is Ethan okay?”

“I think so,” she said, head hanging, “but…”

Sophie inhaled, shakily, and renewed her efforts to free herself from her bindings, tugging hard at the leg of the table, until she could feel the rope burn left on her wrists, and physically could not pull against them anymore without wanting to rip her hands off. She leaned her forehead against the table leg, panting. She let her eyes fall closed, just for a moment, which was a relief on her aching corneas; she could feel her contacts had dried to them. It would take a lot of eye drops to get them out, if she ever had the chance to. 

 “Sophie.” 

Her eyes opened again, and she turned them towards Zoe. 

“If Ethan manages to get to Lucas, and get the D-Series skull from him, that’ll be it,” she said. “We’ll be able to make the serum, and he can use it on me and Mia.” 

“No,” Mia mumbled, and she shook her head. “It won’t work.”

“Yes it will,” Zoe told her, sharply. “We’ve been over this. Don’t give up on it now, when we’re as close as we’ve ever been.” 

Sophie decided she wanted answers. “Where’d the infection come from, anyway?” she asked. “Ethan and I talked about it maybe being the mold, but the mold had to have come from somewhere, right?” 

“Yeah,” Zoe said. “It was that -” Her words cut off abruptly, and she hissed through her teeth as her head smashed into the wall she was bound to. Sophie stared at her, startled, and after a moment, Zoe’s eyes opened again, slowly, a look of pure frustration on her face, now. Her eyes darted in Sophie’s direction, then looked away again. “Never mind. Later, maybe, once we’re out of here.” 

“What?” Sophie demanded. “You can’t just -”

“Forget it, Sophie,” Zoe snapped. Sophie blinked at her, and Zoe bowed her head. “Just forget it,” she said again, more quietly. 

Sophie studied her for a moment longer, waiting for more. None came. She then looked back at Mia, and saw that Ethan’s ex-wife was staring blankly down at the wooden floor. She looked to be in a trace, almost, with the way her eyes had dulled, and her mouth hung slightly open. Her whole appearance twisted Sophie’s stomach uncomfortably, in a way it hadn’t twisted since she’d seen that old man with dementia at the hospital in the room next to the one her grandfather had been in, after his heart attack. The similarities between the way he’d stared through his visiting family and the way Mia seemed to be staring through space and time right now was too alarming for Sophie to deal with, so she turned her head away, peering up at the underside of the table she was tied to. 

Thankfully, her thoughts turned to Ethan. She smiled a little, as she recalled his own half-smile, the one he’d gift her with when they were reunited again, eventually. They would be. They had to be. Sophie wouldn’t have anything left to fight for otherwise. 

Get back to Ethan, she reminded herself. That’s been the goal for a while, and it still is. You just… might have to let him come to you instead.  

Sophie snorted, softly. Hopefully he had it in him to do such a thing. Although, considering his general determination and no-nonsense approach to everything else, she supposed he would reach her, if he wanted to, through stubbornness alone. 

She just had to hope he wanted to reach her. 

She lifted her head, and found Mia had come out of her trance, and was staring at her.  

“What?” she hissed through clenched teeth, not forgetting that the dark-haired woman was the whole reason she and Ethan were in this mess. 

“How do you know him?” Mia asked. “How did you meet Ethan?” 

Sophie stared at her for a moment, before letting out a breath, and turning away. “Group grief counseling,” she responded, her own voice lowered. “Almost two years ago.” She rested her head against the table leg again. “We started talking, and… never stopped,” she went on, thoughts drifting. “He’s my best friend. I’d - I’d do anything for him. Which is the main reason I’m here.” 

She heard Mia inhale a soft breath. “You love him.”

Sophie didn’t look at her. “Yes.” 

Mia didn’t respond, and Sophie closed her eyes again, and was free to focus on other things, namely Ethan. Instead of wondering where he was, what he was dealing with, she found herself remembering the day they’d finished watching the first season of Game of Thrones, which, she realized, had been only two weeks ago. That was so strange. 

During the scene of Ned Stark’s execution, she had watched him instead of the TV, noting his horrified expression throughout the entirety of it. When she’d asked him why he’d been so alarmed, even though he’d read the books, he’d said: “It just seemed like they were setting him up to be the main character.” 

She’d laughed, then, but now she felt tears falling from the corners of her closed eyes as she hoped to God that he was okay. She really wanted him to be able to see the rest of the show, and whatever other shows he hadn’t yet had the chance to watch. Whatever other things he hadn’t had the chance to do, she wanted him to be able to do them. 

Please, she thought, her heart aching with desperation. If nothing else, let Ethan Winters get out of here alive.

Notes:

WE'VE GOT LIFT-OFF, EVERYBODY! SOPHIE GARNER IS IN LOVE WITH ETHAN WINTERS!
(Let's hope that she gets to actually do something with those feelings.)

Chapter 22: "All those guys are just actors."

Chapter Text

Eventually, Lucas returned, and Sophie didn’t bother fighting him as he approached her, and undid the rope bounding her to the table. He then shoved her ahead of him out of the shack, and Sophie didn’t miss seeing the panic on Mia’s face as the door closed again, before she was marched along a series of decks, towards what she thought was a barn. He pushed her into the barn, through a room filled with monitors showing off different areas, and then through a darkened space that she wasn’t able to gain any awareness of. She was debating whether it was worth it to try and turn around to land a kick in his balls when he gave her a solid shove. 

“Faster,” he ordered. “We only got so much time.” 

Sophie muttered under her breath, but picked up the pace. Trying to attack him would only get her killed. She was certain of that.

They continued moving through the barn, until they reached a set of wooden double doors that looked very solid. Sophie frowned at them, but before she could think too hard about where they might be, they opened. 

“In ya get!” 

Sophie grunted as Lucas kicked her into the small room that the doors had slid open to reveal. She landed on the floor, and rolled herself upright as quickly as she could, watching as he closed the doors again. There were metal grates near the top, almost too high for her to see through. She thought that if she stood on her toes, she’d be able to.

“What are you doing?” she managed, hauling herself back up to her feet. 

“Leaving you here,” Lucas replied, cheerfully. “Your knight in shinin’ armor is on his way, and I thought he might appreciate a prize partway through his journey.” 

A light flickered to life inside her. Ethan. Sophie hurried up to the doors, rising onto her toes and gripping the bars to keep her upright. “Lucas! Ethan is coming? What did you tell him?” 

“Our boy Ethan’s on a quest,” Lucas answered. “To find his maidens fair, and the other half to his serum.” Lucas grinned at her through the bars, and held up the nasty, fetus-looking thing he’d shown her before. “Right here. He’ll need to free you, first, and then continue on his way.” 

“This isn’t a fucking video game, Baker,” Sophie snarled. “He better not be hurt.” 

“Easy, Princess,” Lucas warned. “Don’t make me give you back to him in pieces.” He backed away from the doors, and disappeared from sight. 

“Lucas!” Sophie shouted, and then huffed when she realized he was not coming back. She turned around, examining the other side of the room. It practically mirrored the side she’d entered from, except these bars were from top to bottom, covered in places by wooden boards. She frowned. What kind of room had doors on both sides, and was this small? 

An elevator, she realized, after a moment. Where the fuck was she that Lucas had access to an elevator? 

She moved to the other side of the room, and peered through the bars there instead. The space beyond was dark, but she thought she could make out the smell of hay. That made sense, considering they’d entered the barn, and from what she knew, hadn’t come back out of it. She just wished she knew how far away from said barn Ethan was, and if he’d be able to actually make it to her.

She stalked back and forth in front of the doors for a moment, before kicking them, regretting it, and sinking down the length of them to the floor. She breathed outwards through her mouth, hating everything, wishing that the night would end, one way or another. She was so fucking tired. 

She didn’t know how long she sat in front of those bars. She might have dozed a little, even, before she heard the sounds of molded coming from the darkness behind her, which very quickly turned into light. She blinked against it, turning around to face the bars again, trying to make out what was happening. She heard gun fire, and then silence, before the sounds of footsteps through hay on the ground. 

A moment later, there was Ethan, bleeding from a cut on his temple, haloed by the harsh lights of the barn, and wielding a shotgun.  

“Ethan,” Sophie whispered, her heart racing, and she clambered to her feet. “Ethan!” 

He turned in the direction of the elevator, and she saw relief flood his expression. “Sophie,” he breathed, and hurried over. They couldn’t meet in a proper hug, but they got as close as they could, despite the bars between them. Sophie felt like crying, but managed not to. Ethan stepped back, holding onto her wrists. 

“Are you all right?” he asked, eyes searching her face. 

“I’m okay,” she replied, her voice hoarse. He didn’t need to know how much her head and eyes and throat were hurting. “Are you?” 

“I’ve been better, to be honest,” he said, and she actually managed a laugh. He smiled back, and wow, was that a wonderful sight. She could’ve kissed him, right then, but thankfully there were bars in the way. 

“Did Lucas put you in here?” he asked, examining the elevator, and she nodded. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No,” she said. “No worse than anything else tonight.” 

Ethan didn’t look convinced. He reached through the bars, and Sophie flinched when his fingertips brushed her neck. “Your voice -”

“I’m fine.” She put her arm through a different gap in the bars, which allowed for her to touch his face. She was so glad to feel the warmth in his cheek. He was alive. Even as she relished in this knowledge, she spoke again, knowing they needed to move: “Ethan, he has Mia and Zoe, too. And some weird… fetus thing, that he says you need.” 

“You’ve seen it?” She nodded again, and Ethan exhaled. “Okay. Good. I do need it. For the serum.” 

“To help Mia and Zoe.” 

“Right.” He reached up, took the hand that she’d cupped his cheek with, and held it for a moment. “I’m going to figure out how to get you out of there, and then we’ll go find the asshole. Okay?” 

Dread filled her. “No, I - please don’t go,” she begged, although she hoped it didn’t sound like she was begging. “We can break the bars.” 

Ethan’s brows drew together. “Soph, if I thought I could, I would’ve started already,” he said, gently. “I’m not leaving you, I promise. We need to figure out how to get this thing moving, though, and to do that I need to search this place.” 

“Ethan -”

“I know,” he soothed, reaching through the bars. He surprised her by cupping her own cheek, and he brushed away a tear that had ended up there with his thumb. “It’s all right. I’m not leaving without you. I won’t. Not again.” 

Sophie glanced between his eyes, and then nodded, once. Ethan withdrew his hand, stepping back from the elevator. 

“I’ll be right back,” he reassured, and then he was out of sight. 

Sophie remained where she was at the bars, eyes closed, trying to listen to his movement throughout the barn. She lost track of him at one point, and felt almost certain it meant he was gone for good. Despair settled in, and she let out a quiet groan, resting her forehead against the bars. 

Thus, she succeeded in smacking her forehead on said bars when loud music suddenly blared throughout the barn, and the lights began to flash, startling her. She spun around to face the back of the elevator as the doors there began to slide open. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!” she heard Lucas exclaim, through what seemed to be some sort of sound system. “Welcome to the barn fight!” 

Sophie’s eyes widened as a huge, fat molded lumbered into the elevator with her, grunting and gurgling. “What the fuck?” she managed, pressing herself back up against the bars. 

They disappeared from behind her, and then Ethan was there, pulling her behind him as he held up his shotgun, pointing it at the molded. She watched in blurry fascination as he fired four straight shots into the beast, and yet it did not collapse, only staggered some, before it began to shake. 

“Move!” Ethan exclaimed, and pulled her off to the side of the elevator, just in time to avoid what looked to be vomit of some kind, which the molded projected out of its mouth. It hissed as it hit the floor, burning some stray pieces of hay. 

“It’s acidic,” Sophie realized, allowing Ethan to haul her up a set of stairs directly behind them, pushing her backwards up them ahead of him, as he aimed once more at the molded, which was staggering out of the elevator now. 

“Go, go!” he said over his shoulder, firing four more shells into the beast. 

“Ooh, that’s gotta smart!” Lucas crooned through the loudspeakers. 

“I’m gonna kill him,” Sophie swore under her breath. 

“Let’s focus on killing this thing, first,” Ethan suggested, pulling her to the railing of the deck of sorts that the steps had led up to. She could hear the molded starting to climb them, and Ethan quickly handed her her pistol. 

“You held onto it!” she said, relieved to have her own firearm in hand again. 

“I needed it,” he responded. “Aim for the head.” 

“I remember,” Sophie said, and raised the gun. 

The molded reached the top of the stairs, and they began firing, one shot at a time as it stumbled closer to them. Just as it was beginning to quiver, preparing another bout of acidic vomit, Sophie shot one final bullet into its head, and the nasty thing exploded. Sophie lifted her arms to keep any of the gross from hitting her in the face. 

“Fat man down, fat man down!” Lucas cried. “Well - he was never my favorite anyway.” 

The music faded into nothing, but the lights continued to flash. Sophie lowered her arms, and her gun, before turning to look at Ethan. He’d lowered the shotgun, and he switched his grip to one handed so that when Sophie lunged at him, he was able to catch her, and hold her around the waist as they hugged, desperately clinging to one another as though it had been weeks since they’d seen one another, rather than a few hours. 

“Why didn’t you stay in the guest room?” he whispered, sounding somewhere between furious and relieved. “When I went back to get you, and you weren’t there, I thought you were dead.”

“Sentiment shared, Winters,” she replied, remembering the mess she’d found in the basement. “But I’m glad you’re not.” 

She heard him chuckle. “Sentiment shared,” he echoed, and, impossibly, hugged her tighter. 

She only let it last for a few seconds, before she pulled away, and reached up to examine the cut on his temple. “You’re bleeding,” she said, and knew she sounded like she was scolding him. “Did you know you’re bleeding?” 

“Ah.” Ethan touched the cut, and winced a little. “No. Lucas has bombs littering this place. I probably got hit by some shrapnel.” He set the shotgun on the floor, before surprising her by taking her face between his hands, examining her features. “You don’t look too bad. Aside from your bruises.” 

“I’m fine,” Sophie said. “Really. Lucas hit me in the yard, but that was mostly my fault. I should’ve been paying attention to my surroundings.” She needed him to stop looking at her like that, like he wanted to physically rip apart anything that might have done her harm. She reached up to cover his hands with hers, lacing her fingers through the gaps between his. “Don’t worry about it. I’m okay.” She pulled his hands away from her cheeks, and lowered them to the space between them, keeping her eyes on his. “We’re gonna kill him, right?” 

“Yes,” Ethan said, voice gruff with anger. 

Sophie smiled a bit, and squeezed his hands, briefly, before letting them go. “So, you rescued me from the basement, even though I asked you not to do that. Made you promise not to, even. Then what happened?” 

Ethan let out a laugh. “Uh… well. I killed Jack Baker. That - that wasn’t easy.”

“Yeah, I think I encountered your battle arena, down in the basement,” Sophie replied. “Was there a chainsaw involved?”

“Mm.” Ethan glanced down at his sleeves. Sophie saw the ends of the folded cuffs pushed up to his elbows were stained brownish-red. Dried blood.  “And some… other stuff.” 

“But I imagine after that, you were able to get out of the main house?” she guessed, deciding she didn’t want to know about the “other stuff.” 

“Yeah, and I went to the old house, like Zoe said to,” Ethan said. He gestured to the shotgun, on the ground beside them. “After sweeping the main house for supplies.” 

Sophie nodded to the gun. “I’m glad you were able to get that for yourself.” 

“It’s easier for me to use than your handgun,” Ethan said. She raised her eyebrow, and he shrugged. “I’m not super great at aiming.” 

Sophie smiled, leaning against the railing around the upper deck. “Right.” 

“Ah… the old house was horrible,” Ethan said. “Be glad you weren’t there for it.” 

“Why? What was Marguerite’s deal?” 

“Bugs.” 

Sophie made a face. “Bugs?”  

“Yep.” Ethan shook his head. “Bad. Very bad. She - eugh.” 

Sophie decided that she didn’t need to hear the gruesome details. She offered him a sympathetic look. “I wish I’d been there to help.” 

“No, really, I’m glad that you weren't. It was… it was bad,” Ethan said again, apparently unable to offer any more of an explanation than that. “It - I mean, obviously I wish you’d been there, because… well, just having you there would’ve been nice, but… it was better that you were safe in the main house, while I dealt with all that.”

“Yeah, uh… the couch in front of the guest room door?” 

Ethan lifted his shoulders. “I didn’t want any monsters getting to you.” 

“No, it - I’m pretty sure that did it’s job,” Sophie agreed, fighting back another smile. “Where’d you get the pocket knife you left me?” 

“The guest room,” Ethan answered. “I found it in that drawer I couldn’t get open at first. I figured you’d want a weapon of some kind, if you woke up before I was able to get back to you.” 

Sophie considered him. “You mentioned that you did go back,” she said, and Ethan nodded. “Why?” 

“I was always going to,” Ethan responded. “After I got done at the old house, and… done fighting whatever the fuck Marguerite Baker turned into, I - I wanted to see if you were awake, and able to come with me, since I figured with the second ingredient I’d gotten from the old house, we’d be ready to make the serum.” He glanced away, brows furrowed. “But I went back, and the couch was out of place, the door open, and… and you weren’t there.” 

“I went looking for you,” Sophie said, quietly. 

“I know, and rationally, that was the conclusion I should’ve come to,” Ethan said, shaking his head again, “but it - I kept imagining all sorts of other things that might have happened to you instead, and it - I didn’t know what to do, Soph. You were gone, and I’d just… left you there.” 

“Ethan…” She hated the strain in his voice. She took a step towards him, reaching out to touch his arm. Ethan turned towards her, keeping his head bowed. 

“I - if you had been gone, I don’t -”

“But I’m not,” Sophie told him. “I’m right here. And so are you.” She rubbed his arm, hoping to comfort him. “We’re both okay. Even if we didn’t… y’know, get here together, we got here. And we’re not separating again, all right?”

Ethan inhaled a shaky breath, and before Sophie knew it, he’d pulled her into another hug. She exhaled, her eyes falling shut as she closed her hands into the fabric of his shirt on his back, holding onto him for dear life. She felt Ethan’s breath stirring her hair as he pressed his face against the side of her head, arms tight around her waist. 

“I wish I could pretend to be all cool and unbothered like an action hero,” he whispered, pulling a laugh out of her. Sophie moved one of her hands to the back of his head instead, and slid her fingers through his hair. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You’re much cooler than any of them because you’re actually doing action hero stuff. All those guys are just actors.” 

Ethan chuckled too, which was a relief. “I guess that’s true,” he said, and then his grip around her waist loosened. She pulled back from him, tilting her head until he lifted his own, and she was able to see his face. She smiled a bit, and reached up, wiping the damp spots from beneath his eyes. 

“We should get out of here,” she suggested, and he nodded, backing away a little. He bent to retrieve the shotgun, and then started down the stairs, back to the bottom floor of the barn. 

“We have to take the elevator,” he said over his shoulder. “There’s no other way out.” 

Sophie followed behind him, stepping gingerly over the remains of the big molded. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Ethan led the way into the elevator, and then hit the button when they were both inside of it. It rose up to the next floor, and then the rear doors opened, allowing them through. A hallway waited on the other side, and they moved down it, each one holding their respective gun close, exchanging looks every now and then, silent questions of What do you think? and Are we crazy for doing this?

Sophie smelled the burnt flesh before she saw the corpse in the chair in the room the hallway led to. When she did, she had to suppress a gag, and reached up to cover her nose with her hand. Ethan touched her shoulder, concern on his face, and she waved him off. Ethan nodded, and stepped away again, moving up to the secondary level of the room, where the corpse was. 

“He’s been dead for a while,” he said. 

Sophie joined him, once she thought she could be in the room without vomiting. She lowered her hand, frowning down at the corpse. There was a note pinned to its chest. 

1408

You’re next.

She rolled her eyes. Very promising. She supposed she knew what Lucas had been doing, all that time she and the others had been left alone. 

“How do you know?” she asked Ethan, looking over at him. He’d stepped away from the corpse, and was looking around the room, no doubt for supplies of some kind. That was admirable. It seemed he’d adjusted well to surviving, and taking care of himself. She wished that he hadn’t needed to, but was glad that he’d managed to figure it out. Most of it was probably instinct, but, still, she was proud of him. 

“I saw him die,” he said, in response to her question. “There was a tape of it. Some sort of twisted escape room. He burned to death at the end. That was his escape.” He sighed, after a moment, and turned back to her. “Let’s hope that isn’t ours, too.” 

Sophie looked at the corpse again, eyebrows furrowed. She’d guessed that Lucas was crazy, but she really doubted that the infection was what encouraged him to play these sorts of twisted games. That had to be something inherent within him, something that had already existed. The infection had just given him the power to let such things play out. 

She shook her head, horrified, and turned back to Ethan. He gestured towards the doorway leading out of the room. “Let’s go.” 

“Hey, Ethan?” 

“Yeah?” 

She approached him. “I’m sorry that I left you alone,” she said, quietly. “It probably didn’t need to happen, but it - I got sloppy, down in the basement, and I let those things overwhelm me. And that was stupid.” 

He frowned at her. “Don’t blame yourself,” he said. “How many were down there?” 

“Five?” 

Ethan’s frown turned into his half-smile. “Definitely don’t blame yourself, then,” he insisted. “Really. I figured it out. I just wish I hadn’t needed to leave you, in order to do that.” 

Sophie returned the smile, and glanced away. “Well, we’re both still alive, so I guess it worked out.” 

“Soph.” She felt him take her hand, and forced herself to look at him. His eyes were gentle as he squeezed her hand. “We’re together again, too, which is important. We’re definitely a better duo than separate entities, I think.” 

Sophie managed a laugh. “Yeah, well, maybe that’s true, now that you have a gun.” 

“Having two guns is a big deal,” Ethan agreed. 

Sophie grinned at him, and he returned it. Their hands mingled together for a moment longer, before Sophie let go of his. 

“We should keep moving,” she said. “Otherwise we won’t ever get to find out if we’re better together.” 

“I think we’ve proved that already,” Ethan replied, “but yeah, let’s go.”

Chapter 23: "And now you know."

Notes:

You could say... that this is a big one. Take that for what you will as you progress forward.

Chapter Text

A set of stairs activated by a button led down, and back to a room that Ethan seemed familiar with, because he went right up to a keypad on a wall near a grated door, and punched in the code that had been on the note. Sophie lingered behind him, both hands ready on her gun. She glanced around, and recalled that Lucas had actually forced her through the room she and Ethan stood in, on their way to the elevator. 

The door clicked open, and Ethan started to push on it, to get to the room on the other side, but the loudspeakers blared to life, first. 

“Yo, buddy!” Lucas’s voice began. “Did ya like your gift?” 

“Fuck you, Lucas!” Sophie snapped, looking around the room. “Where the hell are you?” 

“Mouthy bitch, ain’t she, Ethan?” Lucas asked, and Sophie saw Ethan’s grip around the shotgun tighten. “Don’t know why yer a fan of that.” The door opened. “Come on through, then, but don’t think about using those fuckin’ guns. If you ruin my game, I’ll kill you both.” 

Ethan looked over at Sophie, who lifted her shoulders. What choice did they have? Ethan nodded, and pushed his way through the door. Sophie followed after him, and then spun around when it clanged shut behind them. Lucas was standing before it, and he offered them a grin. 

“Have a nice day,” he said, sweetly, before he walked off, and disappeared from sight. 

Sophie heard Ethan exhale a breath. “It’s the escape room from the video,” he murmured to her, and she frowned at the mechanical clown that was seated behind the table of the darkened room in front of them, holding a candle. Ethan reached forward, and pulled it from its hand, before he gestured with his head for her to follow him. 

She did so, ducking under the shower of water that fell over them as they crossed the threshold into a new room. Once they were both through, the lights in the space flickered to life, as did the loudspeakers. 

“All you gotta do,” Lucas began, “is light the candle, and put it in the cake.” 

Sophie turned to said cake, which was poorly frosted and had a sign on top of it with scrawled writing that read: Happy fucking birthday. Got a light?

“Kiss my ass,” Ethan snapped, and Lucas tsk- ed his tongue reproachfully. 

“Ethan, language,” he scolded. “There are children in the building - somewhere - I think. I’m not sure anymore.” 

The loudspeakers clicked off again, and Ethan turned to Sophie. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Absolutely not,” Sophie replied, shaking away the feeling that had chilled her at Lucas’s mention of children. “I’m coming with you.”

Ethan shook his head. “No,” he said. “It’ll go quicker if you stay here. I know what has to happen, so let me take care of it.” Sophie frowned at him, and he offered her a quick grin. “Seriously, if you try to come with me, you’ll want to take over, and I literally know what to do here already, so… trust me.” 

Sophie huffed, quietly. “Fine,” she said, quietly, and Ethan passed her the shotgun, and then her satchel, which she hadn’t imagined she’d be so happy to see. She slung it over her shoulders, and watched as he ducked back through the small hall with the showerhead built into the top of it, before she turned to examine the rest of the room. She approached a wooden barrel on top of a table, and wrinkled her nose at the scent of gasoline coming from it. 

She backed away from the table again, and turned towards the wall nearby instead. There was a hole in it, with some boards nailed over it. She set down the shotgun, and put her handgun into its holster around her waist, before gripping one of the boards with both hands and pulling it out of the wall. She then peered through the gap it created, and saw a passageway on the other side, one that might take them to freedom, if they could manage to access it. 

After a minute, Ethan returned to the room, holding a valve of some kind. She watched as he stuck it into a pipe on the wall, and turned it a few times, before disappearing again. The water did not turn on this time, and she sucked in a breath as the lights shut off. But then Ethan came back again, the candle freshly relit, and it did not go out as he crossed under the shower head. Sophie watched as he placed the candle in the cake, before joining her on the other side of the room, pushing her back up against the wall as a brief snippet of happy birthday music played through the loudspeakers.

“Ethan, what -?” She was cut off as the cake exploded, and she blinked in surprise as Ethan moved away from her, slowly, bending down to retrieve the shotgun from the floor. The lights came on again. 

“Motherfucker!” Lucas exclaimed, loudspeakers blaring. “You’re both supposed to die!” 

Sophie winced backwards as something dropped from the ceiling, and her eyes went wide when she saw it was a bomb. She quickly scooped it up, and, before she could let herself think about it, she pushed it through the gap she’d revealed when she’d pulled the board off the wall, before shoving Ethan across the room, away from the wall. Maybe fifteen seconds later, the bomb exploded, taking the rest of the wall out with it. 

Sophie coughed against the smoke that filled the room, waving her hand in front of her face, while Lucas seethed through the loudspeakers: “That was supposed to be for you, goddammit!” 

“Guess again,” Ethan said, and he reached out a hand for Sophie to take, which she did. Together, they headed through the entrance that had been hidden by the wall, which was filled with smoke and small flames that they carefully avoided, before reaching that same monitor-filled room Lucas and Sophie had passed through before. The chair positioned in front of the table with the monitors on it was spinning in a circle, indicating that Lucas had been here only moments prior, and fled. 

“Good,” Ethan said, letting go of Sophie’s hand and approaching a familiar looking suitcase that sat on a table. He picked up the fetus-thing, and examined it for a moment, before glancing back at Sophie. “Finally.”

Sophie managed a smile, and looked at one of the monitors as it flickered to life, showing the inside of the shack that she’d been in, and where Zoe and Mia still were, according to the screen. Ethan followed her gaze, and his eyes widened. 

“Mia,” he began, moving in front of the screen. 

“She’s alive,” Zoe said, sounding tired. 

“Where are you?” Ethan asked. 

“We’re just beyond the pier, outside that room,” Zoe replied. 

The screen flickered again, and there was Lucas, grinning at whatever camera he was looking into. 

“Well, now, Ethan!” he greeted. 

“The fuck do you want?” Ethan growled. 

“You, dead,” Lucas answered simply, and Sophie’s hand went instinctively to her gun. “Guess that’s not in the cards. Not yet.” 

“Lucky me,” Ethan muttered. “Look, unless you have anymore surprises up your sleeve, I suggest you -”

Lucas clicked his tongue. “Now that would be tellin’, Ethan,” he said. “And I don’t do spoilers.”

The screen turned off, and Ethan snorted, backing away from it. “Dick.” He reached out to fiddle with the buttons on it for a moment, trying to get it to turn back on, no doubt to see the camera that showed into the shack again. 

Sophie watched him do this for a moment, before she released a shaky exhale, a foreboding queasiness inside her stomach telling her the endgame was nearing. Ethan appeared to give up with the monitor, and he rested his hands on the table, hanging his head a bit. Sophie studied him, her gut twisting violently, almost like someone had shoved it into a food processor and set the thing to max speed. 

She needed to tell him now. This would be her final opportunity to say something, before he was reunited with Mia. When Sophie had been prepared to die in the basement of the main house, what had to have been hours earlier, she’d thought she was ready to let him go, let him save his ex-wife and get away from the farm, without having to worry about Sophie’s fate.

Now, though, that she was still alive, still had the chance to say what she should have forever ago, she knew she couldn’t afford not to. 

And the fact that he hadn’t done as she’d suggested he do, which was to leave her behind… Well, that meant something. She needed to know what that something was, if it in any way reflected what she was about to share with him. 

“Ethan.”

He pushed himself up off the table, and turned towards her, eyes sharpening with an awareness she couldn’t help but admire, given the night they’d had. He looked really fucking bad, and she imagined that she didn’t look much better. It wasn’t exactly the location she would have chosen for this pronouncement, but, hell, it was like they said: no better time than the present. 

“What is it?” Ethan asked her, frowning. He set down the fetus thing, and approached, holding out his right hand, which he used to take her left wrist. He eyed a wound on the inside of her forearm. “You’re bleeding. When did that happen?”

She honestly had no idea, and really, it didn’t even hurt. “It’s just a scratch,” she whispered, drawn in by the concern etched onto his features. God, she needed him to know. She needed to just say it. “Ethan -”

“I wish I had something to wrap it with,” he mumbled, examining the injury. “It's bleeding a lot.”

“Ethan.”

His eyes raised, and met hers. There must have been something in her own that willed him not to look away, because he didn’t. “What?” he asked, in a gentle tone. 

Sophie swallowed. She longed for a glass of water. It had been hours since she’d had anything to drink. “I know this isn’t the best time to do this,” she began, “considering you’re about to reach Mia and save her life, but I… I need you to know this, before you do that, and… y’know, push us to the back of your mind for forever, maybe.”

Ethan's eyebrows drew together. “Soph -”

“I love you,” Sophie said, surprised she didn’t have to force the words out, the way she thought she might have, months ago. “I have for… a while. I - when you got that email, it kind of felt like I wanted to die, because I knew that if you did find Mia, it… whatever we might have been, with a little more time, wouldn’t have ever been able to happen.” She let out a weak laugh. “But I couldn’t… I mean, she was your wife. You thought she was dead. It wasn’t fair of me to feel like I’d been robbed. But I - I need you to know that I… that I love you, or I’m gonna hate myself for not telling you when I had the chance, especially when we should have… talked about this before now, after what happened on New Year’s.”

The look on Ethan’s face was worse than anything she’d ever seen, including the one time he’d broken down in front of her, the day after he’d gotten rid of Mia’s things. “Sophie…” he whispered, then trailed off, apparently not knowing what else to say. She didn’t blame him. 

“I know,” she said. “It’s not fair of me to do this to you, right now, but I’ve - I’ve been denying it for too long, and since we might both end up dead, anyway…” Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes; she could picture the tracks they were making down her dirty face. She sniffled, and used the wrist he wasn’t holding to wipe beneath her nose, shaking her head. “Please don’t feel like you need to apologize, or… or give me some sort of reassurance. I just...I needed to tell you. And now you know. And we should… you should go to Mia.”

Ethan's eyes searched her face. She could feel them, even though she’d turned her own away, not wanting to see the pity or remorse or whatever it was that had appeared in his features. She waited for him to release her wrist, to head through the door leading outside, while she herself figured out what to do next, whether she could risk going with him or should find her own way out.

Instead of leaving the room, instead of letting go of her wrist, he said, “Sophie, look at me. Please.”

She did so, thinking it’d be stupid to deny his request, considering how simple it was. His eyes were soft. He finally released her wrist, but she was startled when he reached up to cradle her face instead, his thumb rubbing away the dampness left behind by her tears. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked, softly, sounding hurt. 

She shook her head. “Because I thought you’d hate me,” she whispered. “It wasn’t fair of me to love you, and to tell you so, when you’d recently lost your wife, even if your marriage was struggling before she disappeared. It didn’t… it didn’t lessen the fact that it existed.” 

“Okay, but… what about the fact that you were the one to help me through my grief?” Ethan asked, and Sophie blinked at him, reaching up to cover the hand he had against her cheek with her own. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, wondering if she should’ve been afraid to hear the answer. 

Ethan let out a breath of disbelief. “Soph, you’re almost single-handedly responsible for making sure I was able to grieve for her properly,” he said. “You were there for me, through all of it, once I’d accepted she wasn’t coming home, and you literally had no reason to be.” He tilted his head down, so that he could touch her forehead with his own. “What makes you think that I couldn’t love you back, after you were willing to do that, to… to wait through my grieving process, give me time to be myself again, help me be myself again, before telling me how you feel?” 

Sophie released a soft sound, struggling for words. “Because -”

“Because you assumed I still loved Mia, even though I’d told you our marriage was suffering, that I’d planned to end it?” Ethan laughed, quietly. “We both know you’re smarter than that. The real reason was that you were afraid, and I can’t blame you, because I was afraid, too, afraid of… of letting myself do what I wanted, just in case it turned out you were too good to be true, after the shit-show that was my other relationship. But that was stupid of me, and it got in the way of what should’ve been the final step of me moving on. I should’ve kissed you on New Year’s, but I - I was scared.” He met her gaze. “I don’t want to be scared anymore.” 

“Ethan -”

“Unfortunately, though, you’ve left me with no choice but to do the lame thing where I kiss you right after we share our heartfelt confessions just before delving into the next terrible part of this story,” he continued, and then he cursed, playfully. “Dammit, Sophie, just because you’re a librarian doesn’t mean you had to force the plot of a novel on us.” 

Sophie couldn’t help but let out a laugh of her own. “You’re an idiot,” she murmured, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck.

“So you’ve said,” Ethan whispered, and then he was closing the distance that remained between them, and his lips were against hers, warm, maybe even verging on feverish, or maybe that was her, and chapped, but they were there, and oh God, even though Sophie had wanted him to kiss her for a long time, she hadn’t ever thought it could be so right on first contact, but it was. She whimpered softly into his mouth, leaning into his body with her own as Ethan wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, holding her against him. 

The kiss was hard, rushed, because they really shouldn’t have been wasting time the way they were, but fuck, they were already risking their lives. Sophie thought they deserved a minute to breathe one another in, taste one another for the first time, their tongues brushing as they shared the same air between them, since there was a real chance they were going to die soon.

Ethan pulled away first, returning his forehead to hers. Sophie struggled to find a rhythm for her breathing for a moment, but eventually managed to discover one within the beating of Ethan’s heart, which drummed steadily beneath where her hand had come to rest on his chest. 

“I love you, too,” Ethan murmured at last. “In case that wasn’t clear.” 

Sophie snorted softly, squeezing the back of his neck. “It was clear.” 

“Good.” She opened her eyes when the pressure of Ethan’s forehead against hers disappeared. She met his own, which were shining with renewed vigor and energy, an almost crimson fire glowing beneath the light brown, the gray ring barely visible. 

“Okay,” she said, quietly, and leaned up to kiss him again, gently. “We can talk more about this later. Let's finish what we started, and get the hell out of this place.” 

Ethan nodded in agreement. She really enjoyed the flush of color that the kiss had brought to his cheeks. It made him look so wonderfully alive. 

“Good idea,” he said. 

Chapter 24: "That's the whole reason he came."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Thankfully, it seemed as though their extra few minutes in Lucas’s monitoring room hadn’t cost them anything, because, once they’d made it across the pier (no easy task, considering the molded they’d encountered along the way), they found Mia and Zoe exactly where they had been. Ethan approached Mia, first, crouching down in front of her. 

“Mia,” he said, quietly, undoing the binding around her wrists. Sophie moved to free Zoe, who glanced up at her. 

“We need to hurry,” she said. “My father and Lucas aren’t far away.” 

“Jack’s still alive?” Sophie asked in surprise. Ethan had said he’d killed him, back at the main house. 

Zoe nodded, and then looked at Ethan, who’d freed Mia, and was now looking at them both. “Do you have the ingredients for the serum?” she asked. 

“Yeah, right here,” Ethan responded, and he pulled them out of Sophie’s satchel, which he’d taken back to put the fetus-thing into, before they’d left Lucas’s monitoring room. 

“Good,” Zoe said, taking both the fetus-thing, and the shriveled arm from him. “There should be enough for two.” She turned away from them, and Sophie glanced at Ethan as he turned back to Mia, crouching down next to her again. 

“Mia, talk to me,” he said. “Can you remember anything else, aside from what you already told me?” 

Mia didn’t respond, and Ethan exhaled a frustrated-sounding sigh, before glancing up at Sophie again. She raised her shoulders, unsure of what to tell him. If Mia didn’t remember, they couldn’t exactly force her to. 

“Okay,” Zoe said, turning away from the table again. She held two different syringes in her hands, pulled from the suitcase on the table behind her. Ethan reached forward to take them both from her, and Zoe made a face. “Hey! One of those is mine.”

Before Ethan could respond, even as Mia lifted her head for the first time since they’d entered the shack, the whole building began to shake. Sophie reached over to grab the wall to keep herself on her feet, and flinched back as one of the walls crashed inwards. She then blinked at the monstrous form that had revealed itself, which seemed to be a conglomeration of scary orange eyeballs and the same mixture of sinew and black fungus that the molded were made out of. She realized a moment later that the creature was whatever Jack Baker had become, due to his infection, and, a moment after that, that he’d grabbed Ethan around the waist. 

“No!” she exclaimed, moving forward to reach him, but Zoe grabbed her, first, holding her back. 

“Zoe!” Jack Baker growled. “Get your ass back to the house! I will deal with you later!” 

“Ethan!” Sophie shouted, fighting against the hold Zoe had around her as she watched Jack carry Ethan out of sight. 

“Sophie, stop,” Zoe insisted, pulling her away from the hole in the wall. “We gotta move.” 

“I’m not going to let Ethan fight that thing on his own!” Sophie retorted, twisting out of her arms, only for someone to grab her around the wrist instead, fingers digging in. She turned back, to find that it was Mia who’d grabbed her, expression grim. 

“Don’t,” she said. “You won’t come back if you go after them.” 

Sophie stared at her for a moment, before looking back towards the space where Jack and Ethan had disappeared. She let out a harsh breath, and then let her shoulders drop, her head hanging.

“Fine,” she whispered, and Mia let go of her wrist. 

“C’mon,” Zoe said, and she led the way out the door of the shack, back onto the pier. 

Sophie followed after her, Mia trailing after them both. Zoe took a path along the pier that brought them around to the other side of the shack, which, Sophie saw, wasn’t a shack at all, but actually a ginormous boathouse. She could hear the sounds of the fight going on from inside, and she desperately wanted to find a way back in there, to help Ethan. There was no point, though. If Ethan died in there, Sophie would merely follow his lead by trying to intervene. 

They made it to the end of the pier, where there was a boat floating serenely in the water, as though it were waiting for them. Zoe gestured to it. 

“This is our way outta here,” she said. 

“If we’re going to get out of here,” Sophie grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away, focusing her attention on the boathouse. 

Zoe sighed. “Sophie -”

“Zoe, watch out!” Mia shrieked, and Sophie looked up in time to see a tentacle of mold reach up out of the swamp, wrap itself around Zoe, and drag her off the pier. She disappeared beneath the water, which bubbled for a moment where she’d gone, and then was still. There was no other movement. 

Sophie let out a shaky breath, falling to her knees at the edge of the pier, watching the water. Zoe did not reemerge, and from behind her, she heard an explosion shake the boathouse, a fire flaring up inside of it. Sophie clenched her fists, and turned a glare towards Mia, who was still gaping wide-eyed at the space in the swamp where Zoe had disappeared. 

“This is all your fucking fault, isn’t it?” Sophie demanded of her. Mia’s eyes darted towards her instead, and she rose to her feet again, stalking towards her. “Tell me.”

“I don’t -” Mia’s words cut off as she released a sharp gasp, her eyes squeezing shut. She reached up to cradle her skull between her hands, turning away from Sophie as she staggered a few steps up the pier, and then back again. “Get out of my head!” she wailed. 

Sophie moved away from her, hand going to where her gun was in its holster around her waist. She’d use it on her, if she had to, but so far, it seemed that Mia was too busy fighting an internal battle to worry about her, or to even notice that she was there. 

“Eveline!” Mia cried at last, and fell to her knees on the pier, bracing her hands against it. “Get… out!” 

Sophie stared at her as she shivered, violently, for about ten seconds, before she released a shaky exhalation, and fell still. She slowly lifted her head, and looked up at Sophie, who took a few steps backwards, pulling out her gun. 

“No,” Mia gasped, voice breaking, and Sophie paused, eyeing her. Mia shook her head slowly, back and forth, before she pushed herself upright. She closed her eyes for a moment, turning her head away. Sophie waited, prepared for anything. 

Finally, Mia’s eyes opened again, and she looked at her. “I remember,” she whispered. “I remember what happened.” Her eyes shifted over to the boathouse. “But Ethan needs help, first.”

That was all Sophie needed to hear. She turned and hurried back towards the boathouse, up to the door she’d spotted when they’d come around the building via the pier. She pulled it open, just in time to see Ethan stagger backwards away from the slumped form of Jack Baker’s disfigured body. 

“Ethan,” she said, and his head turned towards her, eyes wide. She offered him a small smile, and held out her hand to him. “Come on.” 

He reached out towards her, but before their hands could make contact, Jack surged forward, and grabbed Ethan again. “Not leaving, are you?” he asked, and Ethan yelped as Jack lifted him upwards, towards his monstrous head. 

Sophie heard Mia shout: “Use the serum on him!” from behind her. 

“You want me to cure him?” Ethan demanded, but all the same, Sophie watched as he pulled out one of the syringes Zoe had handed him, and stuck it into the side of Jack’s face. Jack threw him down again, shuddering, thrashing back and forth. 

“Oh yeah, oh yeah!” he crowed. “That’s real nice!” 

Ethan crawled backwards away from him, and Sophie jumped down into the boathouse to help haul him back as Jack lurched towards him with one of his clawed appendages, froze in place as the mold he was made out of turned white instead, hardening in response to the serum, and Jack Baker was no more. 

Sophie and Ethan stared up at him for a moment, before Ethan exhaled a shakily, turning to look at her. 

“Hey,” he greeted. 

Sophie let out a breathless laugh, and hugged him, tightly, burying her face against his neck. She felt Ethan’s arm slip around her waist as he hugged her back, releasing a laugh of his own. 

“If I ever decide to do something like this again,” he began, “punch me in the face.” 

“Okay,” Sophie replied, pulling away. She then rose to her feet, and helped him up as well. “C’mon.” 

She led the way through the door leading out of the boathouse, and they found Mia waiting for them, near the edge of the pier. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and she turned to look at them as they approached. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said to Ethan, and then she gestured to the boat. “You need to get out of here.” 

“What are you talking about?” Ethan asked her. “Where’s Zoe? We’re all leaving together.” 

Mia shook her head. “Zoe’s gone,” she said, “and you’re going without me. I - I can’t leave.”

“Yes you can,” Ethan said, after a moment. “I still have one of the serums leftover. It’s for you.” 

“It’ll be a waste,” Mia replied. “And… and you don’t want to use it on me, anyway. I - I’m not worth it, considering… everything I’ve done.” 

Sophie frowned at her. “What’re you saying?” she asked. 

Mia sighed, and gestured around them. “Everything that’s happened here? I’m responsible for it. Well, partially responsible.” When neither Sophie or Ethan responded, she focused on Ethan: “You were right. I… I lied to you, about everything. About who I am, what my job is. It - I pretended that by lying, I was keeping you safe, but really, it was because I knew what I was doing was… terrible, and I didn’t… I didn’t want you to hate me for it.” 

“Mia -” Ethan began, but she held up a hand towards him. 

“I was working for a bioterrorist organization called the Connections.” Sophie’s eyebrows shot up, and she saw the stunned expression on Ethan’s face as well. Mia looked appropriately guilty. “They focused on the creation of bioweapons, and… and their most recent one, a sentient mold… I was responsible for taking care of it. Of… of her.”  

“Of Eveline,” Sophie said, softly, remembering, thinking of all the different things they’d seen throughout the farm to support the notion. “That’s who you’re talking about, isn’t it?” 

Mia nodded. “That’s what they called her,” she said. “She’s actually the only successful version of the bioweapon that they’d been working on for years, and her function is to infect people with a mold that can let her control them, which is how she was able to take over the Bakers, and… and me.” She glanced between the two of them. “She made me send you that email, Ethan, which is why I can’t remember doing it. I think she wanted to force you to come here, so that I wouldn’t have a reason to leave. Part of Eveline’s programming got twisted, at some point, and her entire reason for doing what she does is out of an effort to create a family for herself.”

Sophie turned her head, frowning to herself. “I want a family!” She remembered someone saying that to her, shouting it at her, even. Had it been Eveline? But… when? 

“I knew what she was, what the Connections were doing,” Mia continued, “and I - I willingly worked for them, agreed to help transport Eveline to a secure location, since there were people who wanted to find her and destroy her, for good reason, I realize now.” 

“Is that what happened to the ship?” Ethan asked, and Mia nodded. 

“It got attacked, and Eveline did what she needed to, to escape,” she said. “The Bakers found us both, and Eveline infected all of them, wanting to join their family, and it just got worse from there. She used them to kidnap more and more people, to grow her family.” Mia turned her gaze towards the swamp. “Zoe wanted to stop her, and Eveline knew it, so she turned the Bakers against her. If a person isn’t willing to join her family, she does what she has to, to get rid of them.” 

“Which means killing them, usually, I’d guess,” Sophie concluded. 

“Yeah,” Mia replied. “Or… or forcing them to make a hard choice.” Her eyes raised again, and met Sophie’s. “Which is why she infected you.” 

Sophie blinked at Mia, and then shook her head, once. “No, I - I can’t be infected,” she insisted. “It - I mean, I never…” She trailed off, remembering the cold touch of a small hand against her wrist hours ago, when she’d been drifting in and out of consciousness after being attacked by the molded in the basement. But it couldn’t have - why her? 

“You get to be my new mommy.”  

The color drained from Sophie’s face, leaving her cheeks cold against the humid night air, as a half-remembered conversation in a room where her movement and thoughts had been sluggish returned to her. 

Oh, shit. 

“She forced your hand,” Mia said, looking at Ethan again. “She didn’t expect you to show up with someone, but once you did, she figured out how to make sure that I couldn’t leave, since you weren’t going to stay.” 

Sophie felt bitter horror close its jaws around her stomach and heart. No, that wasn’t it, she thought to herself, but found she couldn’t force the words out. 

“No, Mia,” Ethan insisted. “We can figure this out. We’re going to get out of here together.” 

Mia shook her head. “There was never any chance of that happening, Ethan,” she whispered. She winced, and took a step backwards from them. “I - I can’t fight her. I’m - even if you gave me the serum, I don’t think… I don’t think it would be enough. I’ve been infected for too long, it wouldn’t be strong enough. It might even kill me, like it did Jack.”

“Mia -”

“You have to go,” Mia insisted, her brows drawing together in a grimace of pain. “Give the serum to Sophie, and leave, before it’s too late for her, too.”

Sophie glanced at Ethan, who appeared stricken. “Mia, I came here to get you,” he insisted. 

“I know,” Mia responded. “And I appreciate it. But… it was never an option.” She stepped up to him, cradled his face in one hand, gently, as though she were afraid to touch him. “I loved you. And you loved me. But not anymore. You haven’t for a long time, even before I went missing.” 

“That isn’t true,” Ethan said at once. “I just - I hated that you kept lying to me.” 

“I did,” Mia said. “I lied to you throughout our entire marriage, and that… that should have been my first sign that we weren’t right.” She looked over at Sophie, smiled softly, and then back up at him. “You deserve to be with someone who can actually be with you, Ethan. I want that for you. I want you to have the life I never would have been able to give you, because of the life I chose for myself, thanks to my career.” 

Ethan reached up to take her hand in his. “I did miss you,” he whispered. “Despite everything, I did. I just wanted you to be okay, even if we couldn’t make it work.”

“I know that,” Mia replied. Sophie watched her caress his cheek with her thumb. “Ethan… let me give you this one thing, since I can’t give you anything else.” Sophie saw a tear escape from her eye, and race down her dirty cheek. “Let me give you the chance to let me go for good, because really, there’s no other choice.” 

“Mia, I can’t let you do that,” Sophie managed, deciding it was time to step in and stop this nonsense. “Ethan wants to bring you home with him. That’s the whole reason he came. I can’t - I can’t…” I can’t let him get forced into Eveline’s twisted family the way she tried to force me into it, and if he cures me, that little girl is going to be pissed. 

“You can,” Mia said, making up her own end to Sophie’s unfinished statement, although the way Sophie herself had ended it must have been different from whatever Mia had decided on. Sophie’s stomach twisted all the more violently as the brunette nodded, once. “You can, and so much more. Ethan loves you, and you love him, and that’s all I need to know, in order to be positive that this is what’s right.”

Mia took the vial of serum from Ethan, who, Sophie noticed, didn’t try to keep it from her. Mia reached out, took Sophie’s arm in her hand, and injected the serum into the joint at her elbow. Sophie winced a little, watching the clear liquid drain out of the vial, and then she glanced up and met Mia’s eyes. They were clear, no longer clouded with confusion or pain, perhaps for the first time in a long time. 

“Go,” she said, stepping back again. “Go, both of you, before you lose this chance.”

“We’ll stop her,” Sophie said, wanting to find a solution wherein Mia could still, maybe, be saved, and one that kept Ethan safe as well, if the serum worked. She knew Eveline was determined to keep her and Ethan at the farm with her. The only way to stop that from happening, then, was to find her and kill her. 

The way Jack Baker had asked her to.

“We can stop Eveline, and that’ll… that’ll help you, right?” she went on, hopeful. “Kill the source of the infection, kill the infection?” 

Mia blinked, and then shook her head. “I don’t know if that’s how it works.”

“But it’s worth a shot,” Ethan said, apparently warming to the idea. 

Mia glanced between them both, and then she nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Yes. Go. Go find her, and stop her. If nothing else, you’ll - you’ll avenge everyone who’s been hurt by her.” 

“That’s the plan,” Sophie said. She reached out and squeezed Mia’s hand. “Thank you, Mia.”

She merely squeezed her hand back. “No, Sophie. Thank you,” she said, quietly, and then she ushered them towards the little boat floating beside the dock. “Now go. Go!” 

“Mia,” Ethan said, catching her hand after he’d helped Sophie into the boat. She watched the two of them look at one another for a moment, before Mia pressed her other hand to his chest. 

“I know,” she murmured, offering him a small smile. 

Ethan nodded, and then turned to climb into the boat as well. He started the engine, and Sophie looked at Mia. 

“We’ll figure this out,” she assured. 

Mia merely slid her arm around her midsection, and gave her a small nod, as the boat moved away from the dock, bouncing over the water. 

They rode in silence for a while, passing under overgrown trees and around fallen logs. Occasionally, something would move beneath the water, dark shadows, and Sophie retreated further and further into herself, drawing her arms around her knees, her knees to her chest. Ethan was a statue across from her, eyes trained on something she could not see. 

After some time, unbidden, Sophie decided to speak up: “I’m sorry.”

Ethan blinked, and looked at her. “For what?” 

She wanted to tell him everything she knew, now that she could remember her interaction with Eveline and Jack Baker, after being infected, but fell short of coming up with the right way to do so. Instead, she went with her second best alternative: “If Mia hadn’t taken the serum, injected me… you could have gotten out of here with her.” She turned her gaze away, to follow the ripple of the water. “I know that’s what you originally wanted, when we came here, so I’m sorry that you couldn’t have that, because of me.” 

“Soph, are you joking?” Ethan asked her, sounding confused. “Didn’t you hear what Mia said? She wasn’t ever going to be able to leave, serum or not. It’s been too long.”

Sophie tightened her grip around her knees. “And you believed her?” she asked, softly. 

“Yes,” Ethan said. “I think that might have been one of the few times Mia actually told me the truth.” 

“How do you know?” 

“She cried,” Ethan replied. Sophie glanced at him again, and saw he was looking at the thing she couldn’t see once more. “We had… so many fights, while we were together, and despite everything, the only time she cried in front of me was when her cat died.” His shoulders raised and lowered, and he adjusted his grip on the handle of the steerer that turned the boat. “We’re still going to stop Eveline, because I won’t let this night be a complete failure.” His eyes met hers, and he smiled a bit. “Aside from the obvious good that came out of it, I mean.” 

Sophie studied him for a moment, before she nodded, and turned away again, focusing on the water around them. He’d need to know the truth, once Eveline was dead. It wouldn’t be fair of her to keep to herself the fact that Eveline’s new goal had been to infect both her and him, to keep them both on the farm to act as her parents. 

A dark fear crept into her chest. Even if she had been cured, what about Ethan? Had Eveline managed to infect him, at some point, between her conversation with Sophie and when Sophie had reunited with him? 

Sophie looked at him, really looked, and decided she had no way of knowing. She’d just have to hope.

Notes:

So... since we know from RE8's extra content that Mia wasn't completely cured of the infection if you choose to use the serum on her in RE7 (and that this fact is supported by several events in RE7 ex. her getting Ethan away from the ship before Eveline could force her to attack him again and her being real weird on the helicopter at the end of the game), I figured that... it made sense for her to say that using the serum on her would be a waste, because it wouldn't even work properly. I hope that's fine with everybody else.
(Although let's be real, Ethan might've just wanted to use it on Sophie anyway, but.)

Chapter 25: "I can't let her get to you."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Eventually, the water ended, and they were forced to leave the boat behind. Ethan thought that Eveline had to be somewhere near the house, and Sophie had a feeling he was correct, but neither of them had any notion as to how to find her. Sophie knew they were looking for a little girl, but when she suggested this, Ethan replied that he hadn’t seen any real sign of a kid around the property, apart from the child’s drawing they’d found in the main house. Sophie risked mentioning the brief glimpse she’d caught of Eveline outside of the conversation she’d had with her while unconscious, down in the basement. 

Ethan said, too, that the girl must have had a whole section of the old house to herself, because the area he’d found the arm for the serum in had been filled with a child’s belongings. 

“She wasn’t there, though,” he said, “and I doubt she will be now.”

“Do you think she knows we’re coming for her?” Sophie asked, following him over the muddy remains of what looked to have been an extended area of the swamp, considering all the dead fish everywhere. 

“Yes,” Ethan said grimly, and helped her jump down into a waist-high pond of murky green water, also filled with dead fish. Sophie forced down a gag as they waded through it, towards a wooden shack nearby, the first sign of human life they’d seen in at least five minutes. 

They ducked under the ruined dock jutting out from it, and Ethan guided her up a ladder beyond it, up into the shack. Sophie moved away from the top of it so that he could climb up as well, and looked around for a moment, frowning to herself. The shack had a series of military radio equipment inside of it, on a wooden table. She reached out to fiddle with the main radio, and jerked her hand back when it began to make noise, playing back a recording that had been saved to it. 

“Alpha 1, this is Bravo 1, do you read?” 

“This is Alpha 1. Report. Did you find anything?” 

“A thorough search of the Baker property revealed zero survivors. Repeat, zero survivors. We did find evidence of a skirmish.”

“Eveline?”

“Negative. However, we did find several encrypted messages from the Bakers’ son, Lucas, to an unknown third party. You can probably guess who that was.” 

“That’s just great. We’ve had reports he’s in the abandoned mines south of the property. I’m gonna go have a look.” 

“Roger that. We’ll meet you at those coordinates.” 

“If you encounter Eveline, orders are shoot to kill. Repeat - shoot to kill.”

Sophie glanced up at Ethan, who’d joined her in front of the radio. He was frowning. 

“How long ago do you think this was?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” she replied, “but the equipment doesn’t look like it’s been here for too long.” 

“Hm.” Ethan moved further into the shack, and Sophie followed him. “I doubt we want to know what’s in those abandoned mines.”

“Me either,” Sophie agreed, “but we might have to pass through them, to get back to the house.”

Ethan’s expression didn’t change. He walked over to a large, military-grade crate against one wall, and opened it. She saw him smile a bit, and he reached into it, pulling out an unopened box of shotgun ammunition. 

“At least we can count on the military for their firepower, if nothing else,” he said sardonically, and Sophie joined him in front of the crate, exhaling a breath at the sight of all the supplies in front of her. She reached in, and grabbed several boxes of ammo which, thankfully, was the right caliber for her handgun. 

They took a few minutes to reorganize themselves. Sophie filled four of their spare clips with bullets, and Ethan reloaded the shotgun, before shoving extra shells into his pockets. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna do super well against her,” he said after a moment. 

“Me either,” Sophie replied, “but… at least we’re gonna give it a shot.” She smiled a bit. “I already accepted I was going to probably die once tonight. No problem doing it again.” She pushed herself to her feet, clicking a clip into her gun, and tilted her head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Ethan said, reaching out to take her wrist in his hand. She let him, and allowed him to pull her back over to where he was, leaning up to meet him halfway as he bent down to kiss her. Sophie hummed into it, curling her fingers into his sleeve to hold him close. When they separated again, to breathe, she tilted her head up a bit, to press a kiss to the space between his eyebrows. 

“Hey,” she began, and Ethan’s eyes opened, to meet hers. “I love you.”

He smiled a little. “I love you, too,” he replied, and let out a soft laugh. “Jesus, it feels so good to be able to say it out loud.” 

Sophie knew what he meant. She kissed him again, briefly, before stepping back, letting go of his sleeve. “Let’s go kill a bioweapon,” she suggested, and he nodded his agreement, following her out the door. 

They followed the path directly outside the shack to the right. Sophie heard the molded shortly before she saw them; there were five altogether, crowding around an elevator that looked extremely out of place, considering the swampy terrain surrounding them. She and Ethan exchanged a look, and Sophie offered him a grin before she lifted her gun and began aiming for heads. 

She took down the three closest to them without missing a shot, which she thought would have pleased the uncle she’d learned to shoot from. Ethan then advanced forward, using his shotgun to take out the remaining two molded with just two shells, which he quickly replaced with a pair he pulled from his pocket. Sophie joined him in front of the elevator, and he reached out to hit the button. The doors rattled open, and then stepped inside, where Ethan hit another button, and the whole thing descended into the ground. 

The elevator ride took a minute, and as they waited, Sophie looked Ethan over. He hadn’t needed any miracle juice, after his final encounter with Jack, but he seemed pale, to her. She supposed it might have just been the light from the elevator, but all the same, she had to ask: “Ethan?”

“Hm?” 

“Are you all right?” 

He frowned a bit. “You mean… despite the obvious?” he asked, clearly aiming for it to be a joke. She didn’t laugh, merely lifted her eyebrows, and he breathed outwards. “I’m just… I’m worried that I might’ve been infected, too, but how would I know if I was? Did you know you were?” 

“No,” Sophie said, disliking the fact that that was mostly true, considering what she knew, now. “Not until Mia said so.” She tilted her head. “Don’t you think she would’ve mentioned it, if you were?” 

“I’d hope so,” Ethan replied, quietly, “but who knows? She wasn’t beyond lying about everything. Why not about that, too?” 

Sophie frowned, but before they could continue with the conversation, the elevator reached the bottom of its shaft, and the doors opened.

“I’ll be fine,” he told her. “If anything, once we get out of here, we can figure out how to make another serum, and cure me, too.” 

Sophie appreciated his optimism. She just hoped that he wasn’t making shit up for her sake, and she really hoped that they hadn’t just managed to piss off Eveline further by curing her after she’d managed to infect them both, and had gotten a step closer to achieving her goal. 

***

The mines were bad. If Sophie had thought the eight molded in the basement of the main house had been a lot, she had no idea that things could be ten million times worse. It seemed that molded were awaiting them around every corner, and she quickly depleted her supply of ammunition, instinctively trying to defend Ethan, despite the fact that he had, at this point, proven he was able to take care of himself, especially with the use of a shotgun. 

Thankfully, the military or whoever that had been through the mines already had left behind a supply of goods that they were grateful to encounter, including handgun and shotgun ammo that they were able to claim for themselves. Eventually, they reached a building that had been built into the wall of the mine, which, when they stepped inside of it, they discovered to be some sort of laboratory. 

Sophie peered around the place, somehow powered, still, perhaps with backup generators. It appeared that it was inaccessible to the molded, although there was plenty inside of it to distrust, including bathtubs full of mold, as well as written works that described essentially what Mia had told them: about the creation of a bioweapon in the form of a little girl, that was able to infect people and control them. 

When Sophie read the section about what happened to people at different stages of infection, and how when first infected, people were likely to see hallucinations and hear Eveline speaking to them, she realized that, when she’d thought she’d seen that little girl in the basement, it had been a hallucination. If she’d known then, what she did now, she doubted she would have gone after Ethan the way that she had. 

She looked at him. “You’re sure you haven’t seen a little girl?” she asked him. “Or heard her laugh, maybe?” Ethan frowned, and then shook his head. Sophie let out a breath. He hadn’t been infected. If the serum had worked on her, they were both all right. For now, anyway. “That’s good. Hallucinations are apparently a first sign of infection, so if you haven’t had any, you’re probably okay.” 

Which was a relief, and she could tell Ethan felt the same, from the way some color returned to his face. 

“That’s good to know,” he said. “C’mere, I think I found something that’s going to help.” 

Sophie followed him to the other side of the lab, and watched him step up to a suitcase, the contents of which were by now extremely familiar. Ethan pointed to the note on the flipped-up lid. 

“See?” he asked. “Destroys cells of any subject based on the E-series bioweapon model. Use only for disposal of E-series assets.” He picked up the syringe in one pocket of the suitcase, and held it up. “This’ll take her out. We just need to find her.” 

“Good,” Sophie said with a nod, and she headed for the closest door. “Let’s go do that, then.”

Ethan followed her through the door, and then out the small room on the other side, back into the open mine. They followed the straight-foward path to another door, which opened up onto a cavern with a pool of water in the center of it. When the door had closed, Ethan held up a hand, indicating Sophie should stop for a moment, and she did so, turning her head slightly to listen. 

After a moment, she heard what he must have: a girl’s humming. 

She exchanged a glance with Ethan, who held a finger up to his lips, and then moved forward through the water, towards the other side of the cavern. Sophie went after him. 

As they neared a collapsed bit of wood, the humming came to an abrupt stop, and Sophie felt the icy fingers of fear run down her spine. Ethan squared his shoulders ahead of her, and crouched down, to squeeze through the bit of tunnel that was still accessible, although just barely. Sophie had no real choice back to crouch down as well, and move through it after him. 

Thankfully, they were able to stand up on the other side of the fallen wood, only for the mine to begin shaking all around them. Sophie heard molded, and she lifted her gun, preparing to shoot on sight. It didn’t take long before three of them were lurching into view. Before she could fire a single shot, Ethan’s hand grabbed hers. 

“Just run!” he shouted. “I think the mine’s gonna collapse!”

Sophie didn’t need to be told twice to run out of a mine by an engineer, who she trusted to have a better understanding of structural integrity than she did. They evaded the three molded, and started up the ramp that had been dug into the sides of the mine, moving through the tunnels, dodging more molded as they went higher. Ethan maintained a tight grasp on her hand, which Sophie was grateful for, not wanting to lose him in their escape, although she did fire a few bullets along the way, just to get molded out of their path up the ramp. 

Eventually, they reached a set of stairs,  and they hurried up them. Sophie could feel the presence of the molded they’d dodged around at their backs, but she had to hope they’d be able to get away from them fully, eventually. 

“Jump down!” Ethan said, when they reached a gap in the stairs that dropped into an empty space, that looked to be the continuation of the mine. Sophie did as he said, and watched him jump down as well, before he turned and shot at the ceiling above the tunnel they’d just exited. It collapsed, blocking the molded that had been following after them from coming through, and Ethan let out a breath, looking at her. 

“We’ll just have to hope there’s a way out up ahead,” he said, when he saw her expression, which she knew to be one of consternation. “C’mon.” 

Unable to do much else, considering the path back was now blocked by rubble, Sophie followed him. 

They entered into yet another cavern, this one containing metal structures of some kind, long-since abandoned, and even more mold. Sophie spotted a ladder on the opposite side, and she pointed to it. 

“We can climb up over there,” she said. 

“See, what did I say?” Ethan asked, brightly, and started to make his way towards it, only to pause when a faintly familiar moaning sound echoed around the cavern. He backed up towards Sophie again, and she gripped his bicep with one hand, peering around. 

A moment later, a fat molded lumbered around the corner of one of the metal structures, and a second one appeared behind it. 

“Oh, fuck,” Ethan said, and then he was pushing Sophie, shoving her towards the ladder. “Go, go!”

She scrambled towards it, scooting around the fat molded as they swung in tandem at her. She reached the bottom of the ladder, and turned around, hoping Ethan had been right behind her. She wasn’t surprised when he cursed as she ran right into his chest, and he spun her back around. 

“Climb, dammit!” he ordered. 

Sophie did so, hauling herself up two rungs at a time, not stopping to look back this time, trusting that Ethan was on his way up beneath her. When she reached the top, she twisted, and grabbed the back of his collar, pulling him up the rest of the way, just in time to avoid some of the acidic vomit of one of the molded, which sprayed upwards towards the ceiling, but just barely missed the two of them. 

“No time to breathe,” Ethan panted, and ushered her forward. “Keep going.” 

She hurried down the tunnel at the top of the ladder, until they reached a gap in the wall that they were forced to scoot through. Sophie squeezed out of it ahead of him, and then helped tug him out on the other end, taking his hand to do so. Ethan fell forward on his knees, once he was through, and stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily. Sophie crouched down beside him, and realized the problem instantly; one of the molded had struck him across the back, probably on his way up the ladder. 

“It’s all right,” she soothed, and pulled a bottle of miracle juice out of the satchel. She dumped the remnants of it onto his injury, and Ethan gasped, sharply, as the liquid went to work, stitching the skin together instantaneously. Sophie tossed the bottle off to the side, and ran her hand over the healed area, before allowing him to sit up again. 

“I think we could save the world with that stuff,” he said, sounding a bit breathless, still. 

“Probably,” Sophie agreed. “Too bad we’re almost out.” 

She rose to her feet, and helped him do the same, before turning around to see where they were. There was a wooden door nearby, which looked to be the only way forward, and so she headed towards it. It turned out not to be a door at all, just a set of boards positioned to block the way, but they fell inwards, revealing a path forward. 

She paused, seeing the wheelchair at the end of the short hallway on the other side, and looked at Ethan. “What’s that about?” 

He shook his head. “There was an old lady - I ran into her a couple of times, while trying to get out of the main house. I’d just assumed she was another family member.” 

They moved down the hall, and into the room at the end of it, where it was Ethan’s turn to pause. Sophie saw a flicker of recognition go across his face. 

“I’ve been here,” he said, quietly. 

“When?” she asked. 

“This is the basement beneath the first building we were in,” he explained, and stepped through the opening connecting the room to the next one over. He paused again, and then walked over to a table, beside the musty looking couch that was against one wall of the room. He turned the photo over, and blinked down at it. “E-001,” he said, quietly, and then handed the picture over when Sophie looked at him in confusion. She studied the description on the back, and flipped it over, to see the photo, and her eyebrows lifted when, instead of finding a picture of a little girl, the way she’d expected to, she found a photo of an old woman in a wheelchair instead. 

“Eveline’s the old woman?” she asked, frowning. “But…” 

“One of the documents in the lab… it said that one of the problems with the bioweapon was that its human form ages rapidly.” Ethan said. He gestured to the picture. “The old woman I saw around the house - that was really her, this whole time. That time you saw her, as a kid -”

“That was a hallucination,” Sophie said. 

“Exactly.” Ethan pulled the syringe out of his pocket. “Which means we’re just dealing with a decrepit old woman. No big deal.” 

“A decrepit old woman who’s actually a bioweapon that’s successfully killed over twenty people and infected at least five others to the point of control,” Sophie pointed out. 

Ethan nodded, after a moment. “Fair enough.” He slid the syringe back into his pocket, and kept moving forward through the basement. “The stairs back up are this way.” 

Sophie followed behind him, and they went up the stairs, pushing their way into a hall that Sophie recalled from the beginning of their night at the Baker farm. They walked down it, passing the phone where they’d received their first call from Zoe, and the wall that Mia had thrown Ethan through, the room that he’d killed her in, the first time, before they rounded the corner at the end of the hall, and passed by the room with the TV, reaching the bottom of the stairs. 

“Where is she?” Sophie asked, as they paused there. 

“I don’t -”

“We were supposed to be a family!” The voice came from the top of the stairs, and they both turned towards it, but found nothing there. 

They exchanged a look, before Ethan lifted his shotgun. “Stay here,” he instructed, and set one foot on the bottom step. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” Sophie said at once, grabbing for his arm, to pull him to a halt. Ethan glanced back at her, and she shook her head. “There’s no way I’m letting you go up there by yourself.” 

“I have the necrotoxin,” Ethan pointed out. “If she’s able to attack, I don’t want to have to worry about you.” 

“What is there to worry about?” Sophie demanded. “I’m better at defending myself than you are.” 

Ethan sighed, but turned to face her fully. He slid his hand around the back of her neck, and tugged her up the stairs enough to be able to kiss her. 

“Stay here,” he murmured, against her lips. “Please.” 

Sophie let her eyes fall closed as he rested his forehead against hers. She hated it, hated that this was the way he wanted it to be, but maybe he was right. What was she supposed to do to help him inject a syringe full of liquid into someone’s neck? 

Then she remembered Eveline, remembered their one-sided conversation, and knew she couldn’t let Ethan face her on his own. It was too dangerous. 

She shook her head, and Ethan pulled back, frowning. “I can’t let you go alone,” she whispered. “Eveline wanted to infect us both, get us to stay here with her, to be her parents.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ethan asked, and Sophie glanced up to meet his gaze. 

“She infected me when I got attacked in the basement at the main house,” she explained. “I didn’t… I didn’t remember, until Mia told us, but Eveline talked to me, told me what she wanted. She infected me because she wanted me to be her mom. Originally, it was supposed to be you and Mia, but then I was here instead, and I guess… I guess she realized that you and Mia weren’t the best choice anymore, because of… of our relationship. Her new plan was to infect us both, force us to stay here with her.” She glanced briefly towards the stairs. “Now that we’re both not infected, though, she’s probably really pissed off, which means if you go in there by yourself, you’re in a lot of danger. I can’t let her get to you.” 

Ethan studied her for a moment. She could tell from his expression that he was processing everything she’d said. Sophie waited, fully expecting to be shouted at, for not saying anything before now. 

Finally, Ethan sighed, quietly. “If she decided she wanted you to be her mom, you’re in more danger than I am,” he decided. “And she already managed to infect you once. We can’t risk it happening again.” 

Sophie frowned, forgetting momentarily her relief that he didn’t seem to be upset with her. “Ethan -”

He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering against it for a brief moment, before he let go of her. 

“Try to get outside,” he instructed, moving up the stairs away from her. “I’ll be right there.” 

“No -”

“Sophie.” She stopped short of going up the stairs after him, meeting his eyes. Ethan shook his head. “Please don’t follow me. We can’t both be in the same room, where she could infect us at the same time, because we’d be screwed. The fact that we weren’t together all night was probably the one thing that stopped her from being able to get us both. We need to use that to our advantage.” 

Sophie gaped at him, startled. His conclusion made perfect sense. Since they hadn’t been together, Evenline hadn’t been able to target them at the same time, which probably meant that it had been more difficult for her to infect them both. If they went upstairs to face her as a pair, they’d be giving themselves to her on a silver platter. Even if she managed to infect Ethan, while he tried to use the necrotoxin on her, she’d still only have him, when her goal was to have them both. 

Ethan was right. Sophie couldn’t go with him, because if she did, their chances of losing were that much higher. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, turning her head away. She heard Ethan move back down the stairs to her. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and turned her face back towards his. 

“I’ve got this,” he promised. “Wait for me outside. I’ll find you in a minute.” 

“Okay,” she conceded. Ethan leaned down and kissed her, gently, before he lowered his hand and went up the stairs again. 

Sophie watched him until he was out of sight, before she let out a quiet breath, and turned, heading through the kitchen, towards the door that they’d entered the house through, so many hours ago. When she reached it, it was just before she heard thudding coming from upstairs, and she almost turned around and ran back to the staircase, to follow after him, despite it all. Instead, she forced herself to focus on getting the door in front of her open, which she did after kicking at it a couple of times. It flew open outwards at almost the exact same moment she heard the roof of the house explode, and she immediately ran outside, to get a sense of what was happening. 

She watched in horror as a fungal, molded creature rose up out of the roof, thrashing about in the fading-in light of early morning. Horror filled her as she saw the monster fling Ethan away from the house. He landed somewhere out of sight from her, and Sophie started in that direction, forcing her way through foliage to the other side of the house, as a helicopter roared past overhead. 

She watched the monster thrash, assuming this was Eveline’s final form, after being given the necrotoxin, as she pushed her way out into a yard surrounding the other side of the house. On the edge of the trees, she paused, and saw Ethan laying on his back in the dirt, weakly hefting his shotgun, forcing himself into a half-crunch, as he aimed for the monster. Sophie made her way out of the trees, wanting to sprint across the yard to him, but she was grabbed at the last moment from behind. She yelped, and twisted as best she could in the firm grasp around her waist. 

“Let me go!” she exclaimed. “I need to get to him.” 

“It isn’t safe!” a muffled voice responded. She turned her head to see that the person who’d grabbed her wore a military-style uniform, complete with a gas-mask/helmet combination. 

“I don’t care,” Sophie snapped. Before she could figure out how to get the soldier to let her go, the monster roared viciously, and Sophie was forced to watch in horror as it stabbed a sharpened, claw-like section of mold through Ethan’s leg, and hefted him into the air. Sophie shrieked bloody murder, and reared back, elbowing the solider in the stomach, angled upwards so that she’d hit their lung. The soldier puffed, the air having been forced out of them, and released her. Sophie immediately raced into the center of the yard, yanking out her handgun as she went. 

She took aim at the monster’s face, which was a protruding mess of pale skin and bulging eyeballs. It was at the eyes she shot, and the monster howled as her rapidly fired bullets hit their mark. Ethan twisted dangerously in the air over her head, and Sophie could do nothing to help as the monster dropped him. Ethan hit the ground right shoulder first, and Sophie heard the sound it made on impact. Ethan cried out in pain, and used his left arm to drag himself along the ground, away from the house and the monster. 

“Ethan,” Sophie said, moving towards him. She crouched down beside him, afraid to touch him, but he shook his head forcefully, and shoved the shotgun, which had gotten trapped beneath him, towards her. 

“Finish it,” he managed, speaking through clenched teeth. Sophie took the shotgun, rose to her feet, pulled the fore-end, and aimed towards Eveline’s face again. The monster glowered down at her. 

“I just wanted a family!” 

Sophie felt no remorse whatsoever, considering all that Eveline’s want for a family had done. “You could’ve gone about it in any other way!” she shouted, and then fired.

All four rounds met their mark, and Eveline thrashed wildly. The shotgun used up, Sophie tossed it away, and grabbed her handgun again, emptying that clip into Eveline’s face as well. When all her bullets were gone, she lowered the gun, and, not seeing any other choice, crouched down next to Ethan again, lowering her body over his, to shield him, as she heard Eveline shriek overhead. She dug into the satchel, which had landed on the ground beside him, and unearthed their final bottle of miracle juice. She dumped its entire contents over his leg, and then threw the bottle away from them. Unnecessary, perhaps, if they were about to die, but hell, who cared?

“Soph,” Ethan began. She could barely hear him, but she moved her head closer to his all the same. “I love you.”

Sophie closed her eyes, and hugged her arms around him. “I love you too,” she replied, and waited for death. 

It didn’t come. 

What did come was a rally of cries, from the edge of the trees, before an array of soldiers poured out of it, guns blazing. Sophie was certain she’d go deaf from the cacophony, but she forced herself to lift her head anyway. She watched in morbid fascination as Eveline was struck down by the gunfire, twisting wildly in the air as her monstrous form did the same thing that Jack’s had done in the boathouse, turning into a white, hardened substance, until she froze in place. Then, she shattered to pieces, scattering across the yard and the house. Silence fell, and Sophie realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out in a harsh rush, and bent her head over Ethan’s again. 

“It’s over,” she whispered to him. “It’s done. We made it out.”

“Great,” Ethan muttered back. “Help me up.” 

Sophie did as he asked, watching in worry as his face contorted with pain. He reached around to grab his shoulder, just as a soldier walked up to them, unclipping their helmet. Tugging it off, he revealed the face of someone who’d seen shit like Eveline too many times in his life. 

“I’m Redfield,” he began, and held his gloved hand down to Sophie. She accepted it, after a moment, allowing him to help her to her feet, before they both helped Ethan stand as well. “I’m glad we found you.” 

“The fuck took you guys so long?” Ethan asked, puffing, and Sophie let out a laugh, leaning her head against his chest for a moment, feeling her exhaustion set in. 

It had been a very long night.

Notes:

And this has been a very long chapter. Hopefully it didn't get boring.

Chapter 26: "For all they know, we're total strangers who ran into one another at the damn farm."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Turned out, they still had plenty to deal with, before they were allowed to rest. The group of soldiers, who weren’t military at all, but were part of some group called the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance, ushered Sophie and Ethan into their helicopter, where a group of medics immediately set to work fixing Ethan’s shoulder, which, within about a half-hour, was wrapped, his arm resting in a sling. Sophie had been looked over as well, but she’d mostly been fine, aside from a few superficial injuries on her arms that were coated in salve and wrapped in bandages. A medic had also helped her get her contacts out, which was wonderful, even if she couldn’t see very well.

As she was getting the last of her injuries patched up, a group of BSAA soldiers hurried up to the helicopter, carrying a stretcher between them. “Another survivor!” one called to the soldiers inside the helicopter, and Sophie caught sight of Mia on the stretcher, before she was carried to the rear of the helicopter, and a curtain was pulled, hiding her from view. 

Sophie exhaled a breath of relief, glad they’d found her. She turned to look at where Ethan had been laid out on a stretcher of his own. Samples of their blood had been taken from both of them, too, no doubt to test for infection, before he’d been given a pair of tablets to swallow down to help with the pain. Sophie didn’t bother telling the medics that they didn’t need to test the blood, since she was pretty sure they were both okay. Better to be safe than sorry. 

She crossed the helicopter to where Ethan lay, ignoring the BSAA soldiers dodging around her and the stretcher, speaking with one another about getting ready to take off. She settled down on the edge of the stretcher, sliding her hand into Ethan’s, folding her fingers through the gaps between his. Ethan, already half-asleep, it seemed, offered her a tired smile, and brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“Are we good?” he asked, words slurring a bit, and Sophie smiled back, before nodding. 

“Yeah, I think we are,” she replied. 

“Good.” Ethan tugged on her hand. “Lay with me.” 

Sophie glanced at where he’d been secured to the stretcher by a belt, to avoid movement during lift-off, and she squeezed his hand, gently. 

“Once we’re in the air,” she promised, and pulled her hand from his, before allowing a soldier standing nearby to tug her over to a seat on one side of the helicopter. Sophie secured herself in with the belt attached to it, and braced herself as the helicopter blades began to whir overhead. Soldiers hurried around, belting themselves in as well, or jumping clear of the aircraft to follow other orders, before the helicopter lifted off the ground, rising into the air. Sophie turned to look out the nearby window, watching as the remains of Eveline and the Baker farm grew smaller and smaller, the higher the helicopter flew, before it began to move away. 

She exhaled, and looked towards the soldier sitting closest to her. She indicated her belt, and then pointed towards Ethan, where he was on the stretcher. The soldier held up a thumb, and Sophie undid the belt again, crossing carefully back over the helicopter to the stretcher, which she sat down on again. She noticed quickly that Ethan had fallen asleep, and she smiled to herself, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair, which was almost black with dried blood and dirt. 

Content that he was here with her, sleeping soundly, even with the help of pain meds, she settled down on the stretcher beside him, careful not to jostle his injured arm as she rested her head on his chest, and closed her own eyes. 

Even when he was injured, Sophie shortly discovered that sleeping beside Ethan Winters offered her the best rest she could remember having in a long while. 

***

Some time later, she was jostled awake by a hand against her shoulder. She blinked open her eyes, and found herself staring up at a female soldier, one she hadn’t gotten the name of. Really, she hadn’t learned the names of any of the soldiers, aside from Redfield, and she hadn’t even gotten his first name. 

“We’re here,” the soldier said. “Private hotel, operated by the BSAA. You’ll have your own room, but you’ll need to stay here for a standard period of quarantine.” 

“Where, exactly, is here?” Sophie asked, rubbing at her eyes as she sat up. She was aware of Ethan still sleeping peacefully next to her. 

“Southeastern Texas,” the soldier answered, but that was all she said. She moved away from the stretcher, and Sophie exhaled, before looking back down at Ethan. She reached out, touched his cheek with her fingertips. 

“Ethan,” she murmured, leaning down towards him. “Winters, wake up.” 

He exhaled softly, through his nose, and his eyelids fluttered a bit, before opening fully. She smiled down at him, and he returned it, before he licked his lips, and turned his head, looking around. 

“Where’re we?” 

“Still on the helicopter,” Sophie replied, returning her hand to her lap. “But we’re back in Texas. I guess we’re supposed to quarantine for a little while, probably because of the whole exposure to a bioweapon thing.”

“Mm.” Ethan tried to sit up, using his left arm as leverage. Sophie slid off the stretcher, and helped him the rest of the way, sliding her arm behind his back to do so. Ethan huffed, once he was upright, wincing a bit. 

“Shoulder hurt?” Sophie guessed, and he nodded. 

“Tired, too.”

“Yeah. We probably only flew for an hour, maybe two,” she said. “We’ll need more sleep. Apparently, we’re being set up in a hotel.” 

“That’s something,” Ethan said. He looked around, watching the movement of the soldiers for a moment. “The BSAA, huh?”

“I guess so.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Me either,” Sophie replied, “but I mean… we’re out of there, which is what I care about, presently. We can discuss our mistrust of these military types later.” 

Ethan chuckled, as one of said military types approached them both. 

“Ready?” they asked. “Can you walk, Mr. Winters?”

“Yes,” Ethan answered, rising to his feet to prove it. Sophie was glad their last bit of miracle juice had taken care of the leg that Eveline had speared. 

“Very good,” the soldier said, and they stepped away, ready to lead the way out of the helicopter. “We’ve had separate rooms prepared for you.”

“Wait, what?” Ethan asked, and the soldier paused, turning around to face them again. “Separate rooms?” 

“Is this a problem?” the soldier asked, glancing between them. 

Sophie glanced up at Ethan, wondering if it was a problem. It wasn’t as though there was a real reason for the two of them to share a room. The soldiers would wonder why they wanted to, especially considering that they’d also rescued the woman who had been Ethan’s wife from the farm, declaration of death or not. 

“Yeah, it’s a problem,” Ethan said, startling her a little, but she had to force back a smile at how firm he sounded. “Why do we need to be separated?” 

The soldier blinked at him. “Protocol.”

“The same room,” Ethan said.

The soldier glanced at Sophie, who slid an arm around Ethan’s waist, and nodded in agreement to his request. “Please.” 

“Fine,” the soldier said, after a moment. “I’ll see what I can do. Wait here.” They walked away, and Sophie looked up at Ethan again, to see his jaw had set. 

“Separate rooms,” he muttered, sounding bitter. “Please. Did they not see us sharing a damn stretcher?” 

“Easy,” Sophie said. “They probably just assumed. They don’t know what our connection is. For all they know, we’re total strangers who ran into one another at the damn farm.” 

Ethan blew out a breath. “Still,” he said, “they should have asked.”

Sophie offered him a smile. “It’s all right,” she said. “You set them straight.”

The soldier that had woken Sophie walked over to them. “One room,” she said. “A suite. Is that acceptable?” 

“Yes,” Sophie said. “Thank you.”

“Follow me,” the soldier said, and headed off the helicopter. Sophie helped Ethan follow behind her. 

“The other woman you rescued,” Sophie began, as they crossed over the rooftop they’d landed on, to a door that was propped open. “Is she all right?”

“We’re doing tests on her,” the soldier replied, after a moment. “To determine the extent of her infection.”

“And our tests?” Sophie asked.

“Clean,” the soldier said, “but we’ll need more blood later on, to ensure that there wasn’t a late set-in.” 

Sophie looked up at Ethan, saw the relief on his features. She felt similarly. No sign of infection at this point was good news. It meant they’d got out okay, aside from their other injuries. 

The soldier led them down the stairs on the other side of the door on the roof, going down two flights before she held another door for them. This one opened into a carpeted, green-walled hallway, which she walked down about halfway, before pausing in front of a door. 

“This is your suite,” she said. “We ask that you please remain here until myself or another BSAA soldier comes to retrieve you. If you require anything, use the phone to call the front desk, and it will be brought up to you. For right now, we’ve prepared the room with necessities, including water, pain medication, and otherwise. We were also able to get you a new pair of contacts, Sophie, with your prescription.” 

“Thank you,” Sophie said again. “Will you keep us updated on the status of the other woman?” 

The soldier nodded, after a moment, and Sophie felt Ethan relax, a little, beside her.

The soldier opened the door for them, and Sophie helped Ethan through it, looking over her shoulder to watch the soldier close it behind them. When it was shut, she carefully moved away from Ethan, and looked around. 

The door had opened onto the main room of the suite, which was complete with a sitting area with a TV, and a small kitchen. As the soldier had promised, water bottles littered the kitchen counter, and it was these she went to, first, opening one and swallowing half of it. They’d given them water on the helicopter, but after not having any for close to eighteen hours, she was still incredibly dehydrated. She opened a second bottle, and carried it over to where Ethan lingered in the entry, holding it out to him, as she finished off her water. 

“Thanks,” Ethan said, taking the water. He didn’t drink quite as greedily as she did, but she could see that he was relieved to have his hands on a steady supply of the liquid, even as he leaned back against the wall, clearly winded from the climb down the stairs. 

“You need more rest,” Sophie commented. 

“What I need is a shower,” Ethan said. “I feel disgusting.” 

He looked disgusting, too, covered from head to toe in mud and blood and all other matters of gross. She supposed that she probably looked just as bad, however, and decided a shower did, in fact, sound fantastic, however exhausted she was. 

“You can shower first,” he said, just as she was starting to offer it up to him instead. “I’m just - I’ll just stay right here.” 

“Ethan, you almost died,” Sophie told him, even if this wasn’t necessarily true. “I think I can let you shower before me.” She considered him, considered the way his eyes had fallen shut, as though he were glad to just lean against the wall for a time. “Do you think you’ll be okay in there by yourself?” 

Ethan exhaled, and opened his eyes again. They were dull with exhaustion, and pain. His first dose of meds appeared to have started to wear off already. It must not have been very strong. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe. If the water isn’t too hot.” He gestured towards the partially opened door that showed into the suite’s bathroom with a small tilt of his head. “Maybe you could sit outside the door, just in case I collapse.”

Sophie smiled a bit. “You won’t collapse.” 

Ethan licked his lips, and took another drink of water. “I’m not as confident about that as you are,” he said. 

“Okay,” Sophie said. “If you want me to sit outside, I will.” Ethan nodded, after a moment, and then shuffled towards the bathroom, nudging the door open wider with his left elbow. He disappeared from sight, the light flicking on inside, and Sophie settled back against the wall next to the door, listening as he got the shower turned on. 

It took maybe thirty seconds for her to hear him clear his throat. 

“Soph?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I can’t… get my shirt off,” he said at last, and she exhaled, straightening up off of the wall. 

“Do you want my help?” she asked, not wanting to intrude on him without his permission. 

“Yes, please,” he said, quietly, and she scooted into the bathroom. 

She found him leaning back against the sink, brows furrowed. He’d slid his sling off, but she could tell that his injured shoulder was giving him trouble; it seemed to be awkward for him to maneuver around it. She approached him, and settled her hands on his chest, fingers on the top button of his shirt. She lifted her eyes to meet his in question. 

Ethan’s adam’s apple bobbed, and then he nodded. Sophie nodded back, and turned her attention to undoing the buttons of his shirt. It didn’t take long; she was actually quite impressed with the steadiness of her hands. That done, she pushed it down, going slowly off of his shoulders, mindful of the wrapping on his right one, as well as the bandages that littered his chest and the areas of his arms that showed through tears in the sleeves. She then eased it off over his hands, which had been given fresh bandages, despite the fact that the wounds Mia had dealt him with first her butcher’s knife, and then that screwdriver, had faded, aside from some healing scars that indicated he’d been stabbed through the hand. Once the sleeves were over his hands, the shirt was off. 

“There,” she said, tossing it away. “That was one of the harder parts, I think.”

She took a step back, and then turned around, ready to head back out of the bathroom. Before she could take a single step, Ethan said her name, quietly, and she turned around again. 

In the brief moment she’d had her back to him, he appeared to have attempted to get his pants undone with his left hand, since his right was out of range, due to his injured shoulder. His eyes lifted, and met hers, his expression one of frustration. 

“I’m not left handed,” he said, and from the tone of his voice, she’d think he was confessing some sin. 

“Hey, it’s all right,” Sophie said, gently, and stepped towards him. “Do you want me to help?” 

Ethan exhaled through his nose, and then nodded his head once. Sophie scooted in front of him again, and undid the button on his slacks, and then slid the zipper down. She backed away again, and turned around, listening as he kicked them down off of his legs and to the floor. 

“I’m thinking we can probably just throw it all away,” she suggested, back to him. 

He hummed a quiet agreement, and she turned around again, feeling a flush race up the back of her neck at the sight of him. He wasn’t a superhero or anything, but she’d been fully aware of his lean shape, considering how much time she spent with him, how often she hugged him and the single time she’d shared a bed with him, had felt his whole body pressed against her own. He was pale, and still covered in nastiness, but… 

She had to duck her head, hoping that the blush she could feel in her chest and face wasn’t visible. “I’ll be outside,” she said, and fled the bathroom, ducking around the door. Once she could lean against the wall again, she exhaled a shaky breath, and closed her eyes. Less than five hours ago, she and Ethan had exchanged their first kiss. She needed to sort out her priorities. 

She listened to the sounds from inside the bathroom, trying hard to focus on her concern that he get out safely, rather than the fact that he was naked just on the other side of the door from her. Thankfully, she didn’t hear anything that indicated he’d collapsed, nor did she hear him call out for help. Mostly, she heard water running, and after about fifteen minutes, said water changed cadence, as he must have stepped out of the shower. 

“Ethan?” she began, moving towards the gap in the door. “Do you need help?”

“I’ve got it,” he said, after a moment. “But you can come in.” 

She considered this offer, and then decided, fuck it, she wanted to take it. She opened the door wider, stepping back into the bathroom. She found that he’d wrapped a towel around his waist, and was using a second to dry his upper half. He was presently toweling at his hair, and he actually smiled at her, when he saw her. 

“It’s all yours,” he said, tilting his head towards the shower. “And, uh, if I’m asleep when you get done, don’t freak out, because I honestly feel like I’m about to pass out for twenty-four hours, at least.”

Sophie smiled back. “Do what you need to do,” she said. “Just make sure you drink a little bit more water before you fall asleep.”

“I can do that,” Ethan agreed. He moved past her, towards the bathroom door, but paused before he left. “Hey.” She turned to face him, and Ethan bent down, pressing a kiss to her lips. She felt his grin through it. “Can’t wait to see you mostly naked, too,” he murmured, and she flushed yet again. To disguise it, she snorted, and pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him out of the bathroom with gentle force. 

“Fuck off,” she said, and closed the door, but she heard him chuckle from the other side all the same. 

Sophie tried not to think about the promise of his wish, and tugged off the remnants of her shirt as she approached the still-running shower, ready to use up as much hot water as she wanted.

Notes:

Like last weekend, I'll probably be posting twice today, so keep an eye out.

Chapter 27: "Are you really considering it?"

Chapter Text

There was no question about sharing the king-sized bed in the suite’s bedroom. Sophie, who did in fact find Ethan asleep when she emerged from the shower, climbed into the side he hadn’t chosen to occupy after pulling on a set of the generic pajamas she found in the room’s closet. She figured they’d stay on their respective sides of the bed, and not worry about bumping into one another while they slept, considering how big the mattress was. 

Thus, she was startled when she woke up eight hours later, according to the digital clock on the nightstand near her, and found Ethan right behind her, his arm around her waist. She could hear him snoring, softly, his breath warm against her neck. She smiled to herself, and snuggled back into him a little, letting her eyes fall closed again. 

She was beginning to drift back off, when she felt him shift behind her. Ethan exhaled a soft hum that was part question, part sleep-sound. Sophie replied by rolling over, beneath his arm, and cuddled close to him.

“Mm.” He moved his head, and buried his nose into the hair on the top of hers. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” she responded quietly. “I didn’t expect you to move all the way across the bed to my side.” 

“Woke up and saw you,” Ethan murmured. “Wanted to be close to you.” 

Sophie grinned. “That’s cute.” 

“Hm.” She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you.” 

“Love you too, Winters,” Sophie said, still smiling, even as she lifted her head, so that she could kiss the closest part of him she could reach from this angle, which happened to be his chin. Ethan hummed again, quietly, clearly sinking back into sleep. Sophie scooted out from beneath his arm, but lingered when his hand wrapped around her wrist. 

“Stay,” he mumbled, eyes closed. 

“I’m gonna find some food,” she told him, leaning back over to kiss his lips instead. “Go back to sleep.” 

Ethan exhaled, and his grip around her wrist relaxed enough for her to pull her hand free. 

Sophie slid off the bed, and glanced back at him as she paused in the doorway of the room. He’d been laying on his stomach, and he still was, flopped out along the mattress almost diagonally. She smiled a bit, and quietly stepped out of the room, closing the door slightly behind her. She then made her way across the main room of the suite over to the kitchen, to see what sort of food the BSAA had left for them.

It was mostly snack food, but there were miniature boxes of cereal. It was one of these she popped open, first, electing to munch on some dry Frosted Flakes as she examined the suite a little bit better, to see exactly where they’d be spending their quarantine, however long that might be. She dumped some Frosted Flakes into her mouth as she crossed the room to the wide window on the opposite wall from the kitchen. She pulled back the heavy green drapes hanging across it, and found herself looking across a field that might have been for golf, had the hotel not belonged to the BSAA. She tugged at the window for a moment, trying to see if she could get it open, but discovered rather quickly that it was locked shut. She peered upwards, and spotted said lock high up out of reach. 

A little annoyed by this, she turned around again, and walked over to one of the couches positioned in front of the room’s TV. A remote sat on the coffee table between the two, and she reached for it as she settled down on the couch proper. She turned the TV on, and it took her an embarrassingly long amount of time for her to figure out how to get the damn thing to show her a menu of some kind, so that she could flip through whatever was playing. It didn’t seem like there was cable, but she did have the choice of logging into various streaming services, so she picked Netflix, since that was the only one she paid for. It then took her another ten minutes to decide what, exactly, she wanted to watch, before deciding it didn’t matter, since she’d probably doze off again anyway, and she turned on Friends.  

She finished off her mini box of Frosted Flakes as she half-watched the show. She stood to retrieve a second box, Fruit Loops this time, and returned to the couch, partially wishing she had something more substantial to eat. Lacking options, she finished the Fruit Loops, and tossed the box onto the coffee table, before laying down on the couch, resting her head on her arms. 

She made it through an episode-and-a-half of Friends before she fell asleep again. It wasn’t a deep sleep, just on the shallow side of unconsciousness, but it was enough to bring on a dream. In it, she found herself circulating the hallways of the first house she and Ethan had entered, at the Baker farm. The first hallway, with the stairwell, and the back hallway, with the boarded up room Mia had thrown Ethan into. All of the doors were locked; she was unable to enter the room with the TV, or even the empty storage space. Instead, she could do nothing but move through the hallways, searching for an exit that did not exist. Instead of leading to the door outside, the kitchen merely connected to the rear hall, leaving her in an endless square loop, with no exit. 

She felt herself panicking, within the dream, certain she was trapped in that first house for forever, until, on her eighth loop through the hallway, she paused at the bottom of the stairs, hearing a noise come from the top of them. In the dream, she climbed the stairs, slowly, not trusting that there wouldn’t be a threat waiting for her on the second floor. However, the second floor was empty, but the stairs up to the attic were lowered, and she mounted them as well. 

At the top, the sound she’d heard grew clearer, and she could discern what it was, now: a little girl, giggling. In her dream, Sophie frowned to herself, conflicted. A child couldn’t possibly be a threat, and yet, somehow, they’d turned one into a bioweapon. A bioweapon that had been willing to do anything to create a family for herself. Sophie did not want to be part of said family, had in fact fought to get away from it, and she knew, in her dream, that that was what she needed to do. She turned and ran back down the stairs, and reached the bottom, before sprinting back through the house, wanting to escape, but found herself in that same endless loop. All the while, the child’s laughter seemed to grow louder, as Eveline got closer and closer to her, despite the fact that Sophie was running, running, running -

“I’m right behind you, Mommy.”

She woke up with a sharp inhalation, sitting up on the couch. Breathing heavily, she looked around the main room of the suite, feeling light headed from having sat up too fast. She swallowed, her throat dry, and ran her hand through her hair. It was tangled, since she hadn’t brushed it after getting out of the shower. She stood up from the couch, and went over to the kitchen, to retrieve another water bottle. 

As she drank from it, she heard movement coming from the suite’s bedroom. She lowered the water bottle to the counter again, and turned to look towards it, managing a smile when she spotted Ethan shuffling through the door. His own generic PJs were sleep ragged, and his hair stuck up all over his head, with him having fallen asleep on it wet. Still, it was a relief to see him, looking much better than he had before they’d gone to bed, and she was even happier when he offered her a smile of his own. 

“How much longer did I sleep?” he asked, walking over to the kitchen as well.

“I don’t know,” Sophie admitted. “I fell back asleep, too.” She slid him a water bottle, and then gestured vaguely towards the mini boxes of cereal she’d left on the counter. “We don’t have a lot of food options.” 

“Mm.” Ethan set down the half-drank water bottle, and picked up a box of Cheerios. “Well, that soldier said we can call the front desk, if we need anything. Maybe real meals are on that list of acceptable things to request.” 

“Could you eat a real meal?” Sophie asked him, and he shrugged. 

“I think so,” he said. “What time is it, anyway?” 

Sophie realized that she had no clue. She looked around for a wall clock, but didn’t see one. Ethan’s watch had been long lost to the bowels of the farm. “Lemme go see,” she said, and moved around him, heading back into the bedroom to check the digital clock on the nightstand. She frowned when she saw it was almost 5:00 PM, and realized they had literally slept the entire day away, almost. For good reason, maybe, but it had been a long time since she’d done such a thing. She’d probably been a teenager, still, the last time she’d slept past noon. 

She turned to leave the bedroom, and saw that Ethan had followed her, but had paused in the doorway. She pretended not to be startled to see him there, although she was, and instead hummed, turning her gaze towards the disheveled bed. 

“We should ask for new pillows, too,” she suggested. “These cheap things got ruined by our wet hair.” 

“Sophie?” 

She returned her gaze to him, saw that he’d tilted his head to one side, and was wearing the expression she knew he typically put on when he was about to ask for something. She crossed her arms. “Can I help you?” 

“My shoulder hurts,” Ethan said. 

She stuck out her lower lip in a pseudo-pout. “Does it really? I’m sorry.”

“Can I have some pain killers, please?” he asked, quietly, blinking at her. 

She considered him. “Did you take any, when you woke up earlier?” 

“No,” he said. “I didn’t even leave the room.” 

Sophie thought she knew how to tell when he was lying to her, and decided that he wasn’t. And, considering how long he’d slept for, since his last dose, it was probably fine if he took more, although she wasn’t looking forward to him falling asleep again, and leaving her with nothing to do. She wished she had a book. 

“All right,” she said to Ethan. “C’mon.” 

She scooted past him, back out into the main room of the suite, and returned to the kitchen. She popped open the over-the-counter pain medication, and dumped two pills into her palm. She held them out to him, as he approached, and dropped them into his left hand. She watched him swallow them down, along with a gulp of water, and then he looked at her. 

“Food?” he suggested. 

“Yeah, good idea,” she agreed. “Let me call downstairs and see what they can get for us.” 

***

It turned out that the BSAA had been waiting for them to call, for, within thirty minutes, Sophie and Ethan had been brought to separate rooms on the main floor of the hotel, which apparently doubled as a base of operations for the group. Sophie sat across a wooden table from a BSAA agent who, instead of being dressed in fatigues, wore a suit, and had a nifty looking laptop in front of her. She typed away at said laptop for about five minutes after Sophie was sat down in the chair across from her by a BSAA soldier, either ignoring her presence, or choosing to let her sweat. Sophie didn’t appreciate it, either way, and eventually, she cleared her throat. She glanced up at her. 

“What am I doing here?” she asked him. 

“Oh, I’m going to interview you.” the woman said. “For the sake of BSAA records. And to make sure that you had no involvement in the bioterrorism that occurred at the Baker property in Dulvey, Louisiana aside from your position as supposed victim.” 

Sophie blinked at her, and then scowled. “Supposed victim?” she demanded. “Ethan and I were trapped at that farm for hours, running away from infected people and mold monsters, all of which were trying to kill us! We might not have ended up infected ourselves, but we were victims.” She leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms. “But you shouldn’t be focusing on us. You should be focusing on the victims that actually died in that house, because of the bioweapon that you guys took too long to take care of, including the Baker family.”

While she’d spoken, the agent had typed away at her computer, either taking notes on Sophie’s words, or doing something completely separate. 

“What do you know about the Baker family?” the agent questioned. 

“Not much,” Sophie said. “Just that they were infected first by the bioweapon Eveline, and that she controlled them, made them kidnap people in an effort to create a family for herself, which was part of her programming, or whatever.” 

“And where did you learn the information that you have about the bioweapon?” the agent asked, without looking up from the laptop. 

“When Ethan and I were in the mines, we found a lab,” Sophie replied. “There were a lot of documents in there that had stuff about her in them.” She frowned, considering telling the agent about Mia, and her job with the group that had created Eveline, but decided that that wouldn’t be fair of her, so she lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know where Eveline came from, or how she ended up in Dulvey, though.” 

“Hm.” The agent continued to type on her laptop, and Sophie rolled her eyes, looking away. 

“Y’know, when I called the front desk, it was because Ethan and I were hungry, not because we wanted to be taken into custody and given the third-degree,” she said, flatly. 

“What is your relationship with Ethan Winters?” the agent asked, apparently choosing to segue into the next topic of their discussion, rather than see to her comfort level. 

Sophie let out a laugh. “If I knew I’d tell you,” she said, and when the agent raised her eyebrows, she sighed. “We’re friends. We met when we joined the same grief counseling group, back in August of 2015. We’ve been close since then.” 

“Why did you accompany Ethan Winters to Dulvey, Louisiana?” Sophie frowned at her, and the agent waved her hand. “We’re aware that Mr. Winters was sent an email by his wife -”

“Ex-wife,” Sophie put in. “They’re not married anymore. The state of Texas declared her dead last December.” 

“Fine, ex-wife,” the agent replied. “As I was saying, we’re aware that Mr. Winters received an email to his personal account, sent by his ex-wife, requesting he retrieve her from the Baker farm.” She cocked her head. “There was no reason for you to go with him.”

“Other than the fact that he’s my friend, and I wasn’t going to let him go alone to the Middle-of-nowhere, Louisiana after receiving a very suspicious email from someone who was supposed to be dead?” Sophie queried. 

“Why didn’t the two of you call the police, ask them to investigate the farm instead?” 

“I tried to convince him to take that route, but Ethan’s…” Sophie exhaled. “Look, Ethan likes to help people. When he got the email, he thought that Mia was asking for his help. Even though they weren’t married anymore, and he’d thought she was dead, he wasn’t just going to ignore that email, or pass it off to someone else. She’d sent it to him, and he needed to deal with it.” Sophie settled back in her chair. “I wasn’t going to let him do that on his own.”

The agent studied her for a moment, before her eyes turned back to her laptop. She continued typing, and Sophie clicked her tongue. 

“Still hungry, by the way,” she said. “Just… putting that out there.” 

“You asked to receive updates on the status of the other woman rescued from the Baker property,” the agent said. “Mia Winters.” 

“Yes,” Sophie confirmed. 

“Ethan Winters’s ex-wife.”

“That’s her.”

“Why?” 

Sophie frowned. “Why…?”

“Why did you ask for updates about her status?” the agent clarified. 

“Oh.” Sophie glanced down at her lap. “Ah… Mia… part of what we were doing in the Baker house was… trying to find a serum, to cure her of the infection. When we’d gotten access to one, she told us that there was no point in using it on her, because she’d been infected for too long. So… she used it on me, instead, because I’d been infected, too, a couple of hours earlier.” 

“Your blood tests show no evidence that you still are,” the agent said, after a moment. 

“So we’ve been told,” Sophie agreed. “Which is good.” She lifted her gaze again. “I imagine that Mia still is, though, isn’t she?” 

“She’s recovering,” the agent replied. “Our scientists have been working to flush the infection out of her system as best they can, since we arrived here.”

Sophie perked up a little at that. “That’s good,” she said, relieved to hear it. Mia had saved her, basically; she wanted her to be able to make a full recovery, too. 

“We aren’t sure that she’ll ever be completely free of the infection, however,” the agent continued, and Sophie’s spirits sank a little. 

“Oh. That’s… not so good.” 

The agent typed some more, and Sophie fiddled with her bracelet. “Can I see Ethan?” she asked at last. 

“You share a suite,” the agent replied. “You will be able to see him when you are both finished being debriefed.”

“Debriefed? Is that what you’re calling this?” Sophie asked, and she chuckled from the sheer ridiculousness. “That’s incredible.”

The agent didn’t find it as amusing as she did, apparently, because she merely continued to study her laptop, typing away. Sophie began to wonder if she was even actually typing anything at all, or was merely pretending to for the sake of making her sit and wait. 

“Could I get some food, please?” Sophie asked, after several minutes had passed. 

The agent’s gaze lifted from the laptop’s screen, and Sophie spread her hands. 

“I did just survive a murder house,” she said, plaintive, and the agent exhaled a breath. 

“Wait here,” she said, without infliction, and then rose from her own chair and exited the room, the door closing behind her. 

“That’s all I’ve been doing!” Sophie exclaimed, and then she huffed, and rested her arms on the table in front of her, knee bouncing. 

Five minutes passed, before she heard movement out in the hall, and the door was opening again. A soldier appeared in the doorway. 

“Come on,” he said.

Sophie stood, and followed him from the room. She glanced over her shoulder, down the hall towards the room where she’d seen them take Ethan. The door was closed. 

“Where’s Ethan?” she asked the soldier. 

“Still being debriefed,” the soldier answered. “We’ve had food prepared and brought up to your suite.”

“Still being - wait, why?” Sophie queried, frowning. “He knows just as much as I do.”

“We have reason to suspect he knows more,” the soldier replied without looking back at her. 

“What reasons?” Sophie demanded, stopping dead in her tracks, all thoughts of food abandoned. The soldier turned to face her, realizing she’d stopped following, and she crossed her arms. “I’m not going back upstairs unless Ethan’s with me.” 

Despite the fact that the soldier wore a helmet, which prevented her from seeing his face, she hear the exasperation in his voice. “You just spent the last ten minutes complaining that you were hungry.”

“So was Ethan,” she said, flatly. “I’m staying here and waiting for him.” 

She had a feeling that Ethan was being grilled more extensively due to the fact that he’d been married to Mia, and thus might have known something more about Eveline, considering Mia’s position within the Connections. Sophie wanted nothing more than to shout: “She lied to him their whole marriage!” at whoever she needed to, to get them to leave Ethan alone. Ethan wouldn’t approve of that, though, she knew, and so she could do nothing other than to wait for him, and hope he was able to convince them on his own. 

The soldier, she could tell, was very annoyed, but she merely moved over to the closest wall, and leaned back against it, crossing her arms. “We’ll need to get in touch with our families sooner rather than later, too,” she commented to him. “Any chance you have a phone on-hand I can use to call my mom?” 

She heard the soldier let out a breath. “Not at the present,” he said, and walked over to join her against the wall. “There’re some steps we need to take before you can contact anyone.”

“Oh, right,” Sophie said, nodding wisely. “You gotta cover up the fact that you were dealing with a bioweapon, so that the public doesn’t freak out, right?” The soldier didn’t respond, and she hummed. “It’s very… dystopian, your organization, isn’t it?” 

“Dystopian?” the soldier repeated. “You mean like… The Hunger Games?”

“Sure, like The Hunger Games,” Sophie agreed. “I’m a librarian. You get it.” She crossed her arms. “So, what’s the story you plan on spinning?”

“That’s really none of your business,” the soldier answered. 

“Isn’t it?” Sophie asked him. “Don’t you think that when Ethan and I are released from quarantine, the press is going to try to talk to us, find out what went on there?” She lifted her eyebrows. “I’d think we’d need to be told what story we’re supposed to tell anyone who comes asking questions.” 

The soldier didn’t respond, and Sophie hummed, softly. 

“Oh, I see,” she said. “You haven’t been told. What, your clearance not high enough for that sort of thing? Or is it none of your business?” 

“Mr. Winters,” the soldier said, and Sophie immediately turned her attention back down the hall, smiling in relief when she saw Ethan being led down it towards them. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Ethan did not respond, pausing next to where Sophie was. He reached for her hand, and squeezed it. “Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “You?” 

He rolled his eyes, and she understood well enough what that meant. She looked back at the soldier. 

“We can go now,” she said. “Don’t want the food to get cold.” 

The soldier merely said, “Follow me,” and led them to the elevators.

Shortly, they were back upstairs in their suite, the door closed and locked securely behind them. As the soldier had said, platters resting on hotplates covered the table in the suite’s kitchen, and Sophie made her way over to the table, lifting one of the covers. She found a pot of macaroni and cheese beneath it, and, despite herself, let out a laugh. 

“Of course,” she said. “What else could they get us? Probably don’t have the budget to feed quarantiners steak.” 

Ethan had joined her at the table. He used his left hand to peek beneath a different lid. “They did give us a tray of chicken tenders,” he commented, setting the lid down next to the platter. 

“Filling,” Sophie said, but reached for one of the plates that had been left for them as well. “I’ll take it, though. Better than nothing.” 

Soon enough, they both had plates of food, and they were too hungry to talk much while eating, which they discovered shortly after settling down to do just that. Sophie noticed Ethan was eating pretty slowly, probably concerned that if he went too fast, he’d simply throw it all back up. There was still a chance he’d do just that, but Sophie didn’t think so. Already, she could see his skin had a healthier glow to it, which was a relief. After about a half-hour, Sophie pushed her plate away from her, and rested her head on her arms, arms on the table. 

“It wasn’t half-bad,” she commented. “But I’d really appreciate a cheeseburger from the diner right about now.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said. His voice was soft, and Sophie turned her head, so that she could see him. He was studying his own plate, still partially filled, his brows drawn together. She frowned, and lifted her head again. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, and he glanced up at her, briefly. 

“Nothing,” he said. “I mean, not really. Did anyone tell you how long we’re going to be here?” 

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I assume at least two weeks. I’m pretty sure that’s a typical quarantine period, but maybe it’s different for Eveline’s infection.” She unfolded her arms, and fiddled with her bracelet. “I asked if we could call our families. They said no. I think they have to… create a series of events, for what happened at the farm, before we’ll be allowed to interact with the public again. We’ll probably have to be “debriefed” about what story we’re gonna have to tell.”

“Guess that makes sense,” Ethan said. “They don’t want anyone freaking out about the bioweapon.” 

“Yeah,” Sophie agreed. She studied him. “You’re worried about Mia.” 

He let out a breath, and didn’t meet her eyes. “The agent who talked to me… they asked what I knew about her work. I had to mention I was planning on divorcing her because of how much she lied to me to get them to believe that I didn’t know anything.” 

“Do they think the Connections are going to come after her?” Sophie questioned. 

“I think so,” Ethan replied. “I’m pretty sure they wanted to know if… if the Connections had any idea about who I am.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how much Mia told them about her personal life, but they had to have known she was married, right?”

“But she isn’t anymore,” Sophie said. “And they probably thought she was dead.” She considered. “The BSAA might not even release the fact that they found her. If they wanted to keep her safe -”

“Do they care?” Ethan asked. “She - I mean, she did work for the organization that created the weapon in the first place. To them, she’s probably one of the bad guys, not just a victim like we are, and the Bakers and all the people they killed were.”

Unfortunately, that made sense. Mia had told them herself that she’d known exactly what Eveline’s purpose was, and still she’d gone along with it. That made some of the sympathy Sophie had for her current wellbeing fade, a little, the more she thought about it. Never mind the fact that Mia had been the one to make sure she could get away from the farm herself; Mia was one of the bad guys, especially since she only seemed to show remorse now because she’d seen the extent of what Eveline could do, and had been affected by it herself. 

She let out a quiet laugh, and Ethan looked at her again. “What?” he asked, and she shook her head. 

“Just - why in God’s name did you marry her?” 

Thankfully, Ethan didn’t seem to be surprised by this question. Instead, she saw that he looked almost guilty, and he lifted his shoulders, turning his gaze away again. “I loved her, and I was an idiot.” 

Kind of, Sophie thought, but didn’t say. Instead, she reached across the table, and covered his left hand with hers. Ethan sighed, quietly, but didn’t pull his hand away. He turned it over beneath hers, in fact, and slid his fingers between the gaps of her own. 

“I was an idiot for a long time,” he went on. “I… I hope I have the chance to show that I’m not, anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Sophie asked, and he shrugged again. 

“What if the BSAA wants me to go away, too? Since I was married to Mia? They’ll say it’s for my protection, and maybe it would be, but -”

“But there’s no real reason to think that the Connections would come after you,” Sophie said, fear creeping in like a kudzu plant inside her chest. “Right? They can’t just… force you into hiding.” 

“No, I doubt that they can,” Ethan agreed, “but… what if it’s the best choice for me? What if we learn that the Connections do know I was married to her, and, when they find out I was at the farm in Dulvey, where the ship carrying their bioweapon ended up, they decide to come look for me, to find out what I know?”

“But you barely know anything,” Sophie said. 

“They won’t know that,” Ethan said, “and if they ever got the chance to ask, I’d doubt they’d believe me if I told them so.”

Sophie blinked at him, suddenly terrified. “Are you really considering it?” she asked, softly. “Being placed into… some witness protection program?” 

Ethan met her gaze. “If I knew I’d be fine, that there was no reason to think that the Connections might come after me, I’d never do it,” he said, “but… while there’s even the smallest chance -”

Sophie pulled her hand from his, leaning back in her chair, gaping at him. “So, what?” she asked. “You’d leave Waco? Leave Texas, probably? Get your name changed, your identity… stripped away. You’d never get to see your parents again, your sister and her family.” Her breaths were coming in too quick, now; she could feel her lungs aching with the pressure of it, of trying to keep up with her racing heart. She had to force the next few words out: “Never see me again?” 

She heard his chair move away from the table, and then he was squatting down beside her, resting his left hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently. “Sophie, look at me,” he insisted. His hand took hers, and rested it against his chest. “Breathe, please.” 

She forced herself to meet his eyes, and took a moment to follow along with his breathing, the same way she’d done once before. Ethan’s gaze never wavered from her, and he kept her hand against his chest, until her breathing had regulated again. She curled her fingers into the fabric of the shirt he’d found in the suite’s bedroom dresser, a simple t-shirt, green. She tilted forward, until her forehead touched his shoulder. 

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Not so soon after we -” 

She felt his hand reach up, and rest against the back of her neck. “I won’t,” he said, his own voice lowered. “I promise. Okay? We’ll figure it out.” 

Sophie let out a shaky exhalation. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just -”

“Hey.” Ethan’s hand moved again, and then it was cupping her chin, lifting her head so that she was looking at him, instead of leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “I know,” he said. “I - I get it, and I feel exactly the same as you do.” He leaned in, and kissed her gently, first on the forehead, and then on the mouth. It was chaste, sweet, and said everything that it needed to about how he felt, and why he felt that way. 

Sophie reached up to cradle his face as he withdrew, keeping his forehead close enough to rest hers against it. They stayed like that for a moment, both with their eyes closed, Sophie holding his face, and Ethan’s hand resting on her thigh. 

Finally, though, she sniffled, and lifted her head again, opening her eyes. 

“I hate that that just happened,” she murmured, and Ethan chuckled a little, opening his eyes as well. 

“I appreciate your honesty about the situation,” he said, and Sophie managed a small smile. 

Chapter 28: "I love you."

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

They were at the hotel for ten days. Each morning, a medic came up to their suite to take their blood, and again in the evening. They didn’t get much in terms of updates as to Mia’s condition, nor were they told anything about how the BSAA was explaining what had happened at the Baker farm to the public. Really, they didn’t learn anything useful, aside from the fact that their blood tests continually came back negative, in terms of signs of infection. 

Over the ten days, Sophie kept a close eye on the progress of the bruises around her neck. They’d faded to an ugly yellow color, by the sixth day, and on the seventh, it no longer hurt to swallow, or to move her head in a certain way. Ethan frowned a bit, every time his eyes drifted down to her throat. She hoped that, once the bruises were gone, he’d stop doing that. It made her worry. 

On the eighth day, Ethan was able to take his arm out of the sling. A medic was upstairs, watching him do so, and then helped him through some standard arm movements, to ensure that there was no lasting damage. Ethan seemed to have most of his range of motion, even after just eight days of healing, which the medic said was a good sign that, eventually, he’d have his full range of motion back. Both the medic and Ethan seemed surprised that it had only taken eight days, but Sophie thought it was simply good luck. Maybe his shoulder hadn’t been as badly injured as originally thought. 

On the ninth day, the Redfield guy made an appearance. Sophie finally learned that his first name was Chris. He came up to their suite to talk to them both, about next steps, along with the same agent that Sophie had been “debriefed” by. 

“So far as we can tell, we have no real reason to assume that the Connections will be looking for either of you,” Chris said. The four of them were seated around the table in the suite’s kitchen, Sophie and Ethan next to one another, while the agent and Chris sat on the other side from them. Hearing this, Sophie reached over and squeezed Ethan’s wrist, sensing him relax. 

“That’s good,” he said. “Right? It means we can go back to Waco.”

“You can,” Chris said, “although…” 

“Although what?” Ethan asked, tensing up again. 

Chris glanced between them, before focusing on Sophie. “You have a concealed carry license,” he said. “That means you’ve had at least five years of certified training, right?”

“Well, in Texas, you only have to be twenty-one, and not a felon, but I’ve been training with firearms for over ten years,” Sophie said, frowning. “Why?” 

Chris turned to Ethan. “We’d like to offer you military training. Combat, firearms, the whole nine-yards.”

“What for?” Ethan asked. “You just said -”

“I said that there’s no real reason to think they’ll come after you,” Chris said, “but if you’re insisting on going back to your normal life -”

“I am,” Ethan said, firmly, and Sophie glanced at him, smiling a little at the immovable expression on his face. 

“- then it might be best if you receive this training, so that you are able to protect yourself, if the need were to come up,” Chris told him. 

Ethan was quiet for a moment. Sophie looked at Chris. “What would the training look like, in terms of a schedule?” 

“Three days a week, four hours a day, for six months,” Chris said. “We could set you up with a base near Waco, but it would be a time commitment. Plus any outside exercise you put in, to keep yourself in shape.” 

“Six months?” Ethan asked, sounding alarmed. Sophie assumed she was alarmed for a different reason than he was. 

“That’s all?” she questioned, and Chris nodded. 

“We believe it would be sufficient, considering the capability you already showed by being able to survive the situation at the Baker farm,” he said to Ethan. 

“I’m pretty sure that was a combination of determination and fear,” Ethan said, and Chris actually smiled at that. 

“Whatever it was, it worked.” 

Ethan sighed, and looked at Sophie. She lifted her shoulders. “I think it might be a good idea,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with learning how to defend yourself.”

“She’s right,” Chris agreed. 

“I just feel like I’d be doing it for the wrong reasons,” Ethan said, quietly. “I don’t want to have to have military training because it might be a necessity to have… a knowledge of weapons and combat, someday. I’d rather have a reassurance that I’m not going to have to worry about needing either of those things ever.” 

Chris spread his hands. “Unfortunately, we can’t give you that,” he said. 

Sophie watched as Ethan thought about it for a long moment, before he adjusted in his chair. “Then I guess I’ll have to take the training,” he said.

“Good,” Chris replied. “We’ll get it organized.” 

Ethan nodded. 

“What about Mia?” Sophie asked, and Chris looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “Is her name… popping up in any news stories, or is… is the death certificate that was written for “Mia Winters” going to remain official, and she’s… going to become someone else?” 

Chris looked over to the agent, who stopped typing on her laptop long enough to look between Ethan and Sophie. 

“As of right now, per Mia’s own wishes, she’s agreed to enter into a witness protection program of sorts,” she said. “I can’t disclose any more information than that.” 

“But she won’t be… coming with us, when we leave?” Ethan asked. “Or… ever?” 

“No,” the agent answered. “Your marriage to Mia Winters will remain nullified, per U.S. law.” She eyed him. “I imagine you’re pleased to hear this.”

Ethan didn’t look away. “I had adjusted to not having her in my life,” he said. “It would have been strange for her to re-enter it, after almost three years.” 

“As you say,” the agent said, and went back to typing. 

Sophie looked at Chris. “Any special instructions for me?” she asked him. 

“No,” Chris answered. “Arguably, you’ll be leaving here with the least amount of impact on you, aside from the fact that you were involved, of course.” He looked between them both. “For both of your sakes, we’ve done our best to keep any information about either of your presences at the Baker farm on the 19th and 20th of July out of the news. If the information leaks, somehow, you can trust that it wasn’t us.” 

“So we won’t have our fifteen minutes of fame?” Sophie asked, half-joking. 

“No,” Chris replied. “I imagine you’d rather find it any other way, considering the involvement of a crime syndicate responsible for creating bioweapons in this particular situation.”

“You’d be right,” Ethan agreed, frowning a little to himself. Sophie could tell he was thinking about the Connections, about the possibility of them coming after him. She moved her hand into his, hoping to reassure him just a little by doing so, and he looked up again, at Chris, at the agent, and then at Sophie. She smiled at him, and looked back at Chris. 

“So, we’re free to go?” she asked. 

“Tomorrow morning,” he replied. “We retrieved your vehicle from the Baker property, Mr. Winters. You’ll be free to drive yourself and Ms. Garner back to Waco.” 

That, at least, brought a smile to Ethan’s face. “Thanks,” he said. 

“Sure,” Chris said. He pushed back from the table, and the agent followed his lead, picking up her laptop while still managing to continue to type on it with one hand. Chris held out his hand, to shake both Ethan’s and Sophie’s. “If there’s anything else,” he went on, “you’ll be given contact information for the BSAA, to hang on to. Hopefully, however, you won’t need to use it.”

“That’s ideal, isn’t it?” Sophie asked with a grin. “Thank you, Mr. Redfield.”

“Just Chris,” he said. 

That was that. Chris and the agent exited the suite, and Sophie blew out a breath after the door had closed behind them. She turned to look at Ethan, and found him standing behind her, arm held a little awkwardly at his side, as though it wanted to still be in a sling, but knew that it wasn’t. 

“So?” she asked him. “You feel okay, about all that?” 

“I think so,” Ethan responded. “Honestly, I’m just glad we aren’t dead, or being detained in another country, or something. It would have been a lot easier for them to just shoot us both.”

That was probably true. Sophie hadn’t even considered that. “In that case,” she said, “I’m glad we’re not dead, too.” She lowered her gaze to the floor for a moment, and then looked up at him again, through her eyelashes. “For… a number of reasons.” 

Ethan smiled a bit, and stepped towards her, sliding his left arm around her waist. “The main one being that if we were dead, we couldn’t… do this?” He leaned down and kissed her, tongue licking into her mouth as though it felt it belonged there and owned every aspect of it. Sophie figured she could abide by this, considering the delightful way her stomach fluttered throughout the kiss, and the soft sound Ethan made in the back of his throat when she drew back, nipping lightly at his bottom lip as she went. 

“Yeah,” she whispered. “That’s probably the main reason.” 

Ethan chased her mouth with his own. It seemed his business had not yet concluded with it, not that Sophie was complaining. She wound her arms up around his back, tangling her fingers into the hair on the nape of his neck, which had grown out a bit in the ten days they’d been in quarantine. She knew that the moment he had free time, he’d be getting it cut; he didn’t really like having it too long. For now, though, she happily tugged on it, enjoying the quiet whimper doing so pulled out of him. Since he was still kissing her when he made it, she felt the vibration of it in her chest, and she smiled.

“I think you like that,” she teased, and tugged on his hair again. Ethan’s grip around her waist tightened, and he turned his head, burying his face into her shoulder. 

“Stop teasing,” he muttered. 

“But I’m enjoying myself,” Sophie cooed, scratching her nails over his scalp. She trailed them down over the nape of his neck, and he actually shuddered, which was thrilling. “Tell me to stop again, and I will.”

Ethan huffed, his breath warm against her skin. “No,” he mumbled. 

“Okay.” She slid her fingers into his hair again, and pulled, just enough to lift his head away from her neck. The bit-back sound he made delighted her to no end. “Winters, Winters, Winters, it seems to me that you enjoy it, too.” 

She let go, and Ethan straightened back up. Their eyes met. 

“Hey, Soph?”

“Hm?”

“I feel like it might… be a waste, if we don’t, ah…”

Sophie cocked her head to one side. “Have sex in the BSAA’s hotel bed?” 

Ethan blinked. “Y-yeah.” 

“I think you might be right,” she said. She reached out, and gently tapped his right shoulder. “How’s this feeling?” 

“Perfectly fine.”

“That’s good.” Sophie slid her hands into both of his, and stepped backwards, pulling him with her towards the bedroom. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to need to use it.” 

***

Sophie’s eyes opened in the darkness of the suite’s bedroom. It took her a moment to recall where she was, and why she was there, but when she did, and when she felt a gentle pressure against her bare chest, she smiled to herself. She carded her fingers through Ethan’s hair, wondering how long he’d been asleep with his head on her chest the way it was. From the ache she felt in her back, she didn’t doubt it had been almost as long as she herself had been asleep. 

She turned her head to look at the digital clock, toying with a strand of his hair as she examined the time. Almost midnight. They’d spent most of the evening in bed. That was nice to note. Apparently, they had as good a time with one another under the covers as they did simply hanging out on the couch. Promising, for their blossoming relationship. 

Ethan moved a bit, his head lifting slightly from her chest, which made it a bit easier to breathe, but really, Sophie could have lain with him sleeping on her for forever, if he’d liked. Thankfully, it lifted only so that he could turn it. In the darkness, she could tell that he was facing her now. He hummed softly. 

“Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Sophie murmured, scratching her nails over his scalp in the way she’d learned he liked. “Go back to sleep. It’s only midnight.” 

Ethan relaxed again, and the exhale he released was warm across her breasts. “Midnight? We came in here at eight.”

“We had sex four times.” 

Ethan chuckled, and Sophie smiled as well. 

“Pretty good.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Funny how there were condoms in the nightstand. Apparently, the BSAA understands what a shared suite might possibly entail.”

“They’ve probably got cameras,” Ethan mumbled. “Been watching us the whole time. Someone is thrilled to be on security duty, for the first time ever.” 

Sophie laughed. “Do you think we were good to watch?” 

“It felt like it,” Ethan said. He then shifted, and she was certain he had raised his arm to flip off whatever cameras might have been hidden in the room. “Hope it was worth it, you creeps.” 

He moved off of her, landing on his own pillow, and Sophie took a deep breath, rolling over onto her side so that she was facing him. She couldn’t see him, not really, but just his presence alone was so much more than she’d ever hoped for. She listened and watched as the dark shape that outlined him continued to move, and she tugged the blanket up over herself as he turned on the lamp on his nightstand. She couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of his hair, and then she had to cover her mouth as she saw all of the marks she’d left on his neck, and on his shoulders. 

“Sorry,” she said, around her hand. 

Ethan rolled his shoulders. “Don’t know why,” he said. 

Sophie ducked under the covers, and Ethan let out a quiet laugh, reaching over to tug them back down. He kissed her, gently. 

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” he said. “Need anything while I’m up?” 

“Some water?” 

“Got it.” He kissed her again, and then again, before scooting away and off the bed. She watched him tug on his generic pajama pants, and exit the room, leaving the door hanging open behind him. 

Sophie sat up with an exhalation. She stretched her arms up over her head, and then leaned forward, grabbing her toes through the covers in a luxurious stretch. Her back cracked, and she released a rush of air, straightening up again. 

Ethan returned to the bedroom after a couple minutes, holding three water bottles, as well as a bowl of, funnily enough, popcorn. Sophie realized she was hungry, and made grabby hands towards it. He passed the bowl and one of the waters to her, setting the other two down on the nightstand before climbing back into the bed. He stretched out on his side, propping his head up on his left hand, a pillow under his elbow, and looked her over while she chewed her first few pieces of popcorn. She lifted an eyebrow, and, once she’d swallowed, prompted: “What’s that look for?” 

“I just love you,” he said, after a moment, and Sophie smiled. 

“I love you too,” she told him, and then threw some popcorn at him. “Eat. It’s been hours.” 

“Worth it,” Ethan said, and put the popcorn into his mouth. “Don’t think we can say the bed was wasted, anymore.” 

“Me either,” Sophie replied, content in this knowledge. 

They ate popcorn in silence for a few minutes. Sophie was glad that they didn’t need to create conversation to fill said silence. Eventually, the popcorn was mostly gone, and Sophie slid the bowl out of the way, setting it down on the floor on her side of the bed, before she crawled back over it to Ethan. He welcomed her into his arms, hugging her close as she rested her head on his chest. He pressed a kiss to it. 

“Are you going to tell me about your nightmares?” he asked, after a moment. 

Sophie lost her soft smile. She felt herself tense, a little, and knew Ethan must have felt it too. “What nightmares?” she asked, and Ethan sighed, quietly. 

“Don’t,” he advised, voice lowered. “We’ve been sleeping in the same bed for ten days. I know you’ve been having them.” 

Sophie, for a long moment, said nothing. She considered not telling him, but knew that she could only manage to do so for so long, since he knew that they were happening. She had to imagine he was having his own, and she hated that she hadn’t thought to ask him about any, first. While she appreciated the fact that Ethan had noticed, she really wished that she’d been the one to bring up the topic. 

“It’s just the one nightmare, really,” she said, finally. 

“Tell me?” he asked, gently. 

She closed her eyes, and huddled closer to his chest. “It’s not really a nightmare,” she said. “I’m not - I mean, there’s nothing really scary about it, in a traditional sense.” 

“Just because it might not be a nightmare for someone else doesn’t mean it isn’t a nightmare for you,” Ethan told her. “It’s about the farm, right? Which part?”

“The first house,” Sophie said, after a moment. “I - I’m trapped in the hallways. There’s no way out, they just… loop together, and I always - I’m always trying to find my way out of it, but I never can. There’s no immediate threat, other than the knowledge that I’m… I’m definitely trapped there.” 

She left out the part about Eveline. He didn’t need to know about that, although hearing Eveline’s laughter, remembering again and again that she intended for Sophie to be her mother, having to run away from her, only for Eveline to catch her, every time… That part of the nightmare frightened her the most.

“Being trapped is bad enough,” Ethan said. “I’m sorry that you’re having them.”

“It’s okay,” Sophie replied. “It - it’s to be expected, which sucks, but it’s the truth.” She lifted her head, setting her arms across his chest instead and resting her chin on the backs of her hands, so that she was looking at him. “Are you having nightmares, too? I’m sorry if you are, and I haven’t noticed.”

Ethan offered her his half-smile, and traced her eyebrow with his finger. “I never dream,” he said.

Sophie frowned a bit. “Somehow I find that hard to believe,” she said. “After everything. You don’t even dream about… about that final fight with Jack? Or Marguerite?” He’d told her about the bugs, after she’d asked. She thought it better that they shared the entire burden of the experience. 

“No,” Ethan said. “I think you’d know it, if I did.” He blew out a breath. “It might be because I think about it so much during the day, that it - my brain doesn’t have the power to keep it going while I’m asleep.” 

“I’d say you’re lucky, but… do you really think about it that much? All day?” Sophie asked in concern. 

“No,” he replied. “Well, yeah, but it - I’m fine.” 

She made a face. “Don’t think you can get me to tell you about my nightmare without me returning the favor,” she told him, sitting up again. “Talk to me. What can I do to help?” 

“I don’t think you can do anything,” Ethan admitted. “It’s - it’s just something I need to work through on my own.” He sat up as well, took her hands. “Maybe I can start writing in a journal.” Sophie frowned at him, and Ethan lifted her hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “I’m all right, Soph. Really. If I need to talk about it, I will.” 

She studied him for a moment, before she sighed. “Fine,” she said. “But a journal might be a good idea.” 

He chuckled. “I’m glad you agree.” 

Sophie took her hand from his, and slid it around his neck, tugging him towards her. Ethan went willingly, until Sophie’s back hit the mattress and he hovered over her, his mouth on hers. 

***

A little while later, Sophie dozed, only halfway to sleep. All the same, her mind sent her back to the first house on the Bakers’ farm, back to that endless hallway, with only one way out: up. She climbed the stairs, both sets, up to the attic, and heard the giggling begin. Her mind began to race, reminders of what Eveline wanted with her resurfacing, and she turned around, ran back down the stairs. 

This time, Eveline’s laughter did not follow her as she raced around the main level of the house, trying to find an exit that did not exist. Instead, the house itself vanished, all at once, and Sophie found herself standing in a wide, bright-white landscape, with no distinguishing features around. White above, white below, white on the far horizon. It was just… nothing. 

And that was somehow worse than the house. 

She spun around in a circle, not knowing which direction to go. The silence was oppressing, hard on her ears. She let out a quiet whimper, and crossed her arms over her midsection, sinking down into a squat, shaking her head slowly back and forth. 

For what felt like a very long time, there was nothing. 

Then, a child’s voice, right next to her ear: “Mommy.” 

Sophie yelped, her eyes opening in the darkness of the hotel room. An instant later, Ethan was there, turning on the light and moving into her sight line. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, Sophie scarcely able to hear him over the sound of her heart thudding away in her temples. Ethan cradled her face in one hand, brushing his thumb gently over her cheek in a soothing motion. “It’s all right, Soph. It was just a dream.” 

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut again, and sat up, turning away from him as she felt tears begin to fall down her cheeks. She released a breath that turned into a sob on the way out, and huddled into herself, drawing her knees up to her chest and hiding her face against them. Ethan slid up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her, tugging her back so that she was nestled against him. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, and she felt him kiss the top of her head. “It’s over now.” 

Sophie got a handle on her tears sooner than she’d thought she would, which was a relief. That didn’t stop her from feeling extremely embarrassed, when she realized it had been at least three minutes of her mindless sobbing while Ethan held her. Considering all they’d been through, she knew she didn’t have to be embarrassed, but that didn’t stop her from pulling away from him, and rising off of the bed, brushing the back of her hand over her eyes as she made her way out of the room and across the suite to the bathroom. 

Nor did that stop Ethan from following her to the bathroom, and standing in the doorway as she washed her face at the sink, sniffling. When she glanced up and looked into the mirror, she met his eyes, and had to look away the second she saw his expression. 

“Don’t pity me,” she mumbled. 

“I don’t,” Ethan said, stepping further into the bathroom. “I’m worried about you.” 

Sophie shook her head. “I’m fine,” she insisted. 

“You’re not.” She tried to move past him, but he took her arm in hand. “Hey. Look at me.” 

She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t exactly tear her arm from his hand and storm out of the suite, either. Sophie inhaled, slowly, and glanced up at him. His expression hadn’t changed, but standing closer to him, and with a bit clearer of a head, she saw that it wasn’t pity after all, but exactly what he’d said: worry, perhaps even with a little bit of fear. The gray ring around his light brown irises had widened. 

“I know there’s nothing I can do,” he said, gently, “but I wish you wouldn’t feel like I can’t at least be there for you, when you wake like that.” 

“It’s my nightmare,” Sophie whispered. 

“Because of something that happened that I’m responsible for.”

She immediately shook her head. “You didn’t force me to come with you. I made that choice on my own.” 

Ethan let go of her arm, and she wrapped both protectively around her midsection, but didn’t try to flee the bathroom again. Instead, she turned away from him, and walked back over to the sink. She hopped up onto the counter, sighing softly, and lifted her eyes to meet his again. 

“I’m not - I don’t want you to see me like that,” she said. “Reduced to tears because of a dream. It’s - it’s stupid.” 

“Not when the dream came from what it was we went through,” Ethan replied. He crossed the bathroom, and moved to stand in front of her at the counter. He set his hands on her thighs, and brushed his thumbs over the curves of her hip bones. “You don’t need to worry that I’m going to think you’re weak, or anything like that. You’re not. I know you’re not. You’re - actually, you’re one of the strongest people I know, mentally and physically.” 

Sophie smiled a bit at the compliment, and Ethan tilted his head to one side. “Sophie, you shouldn’t downplay things like nightmares as unimportant. I know I don’t dream, but almost everyone else does, and every single one of them would say that their dreams give them some sort of clue as to what they’re feeling, even if they don’t realize it while they’re awake. I think - maybe before we leave, we should ask one of the agents if there’s a therapist we can both go to, to talk about what happened. One that’s employed by the BSAA, so we don’t have to worry about telling someone outside of this whole thing what happened.” 

She studied him for a moment. “What happened to just writing in a journal?” she asked, and Ethan smiled.

“I’ll probably still do that, too,” he agreed, “but… I think if we learned a single bit of the same lesson, during group grief counseling, it was that it’s good to talk to someone else, someone who won’t judge you for anything you admit to them. So maybe we should… take advantage of the fact that we understand that, and put it to use for this.”

Sophie hummed, softly, and took his hand in hers instead, lacing their fingers together. “I guess it would probably be smartest,” she admitted. “So we don’t… lean on one another too much, for one thing.” 

“Right,” Ethan agreed. “We can, obviously, but… it’ll be good for both of us to have someone else to go to.” 

She knew he was right, and she was glad that he’d brought it up. She would have been afraid to admit that she needed help. She understood, then, just how necessary it was for her to have Ethan in her life. He recognized these things about her, and was able to ease her through them, without making her feel as though she were being attacked. 

She met his eyes again, and brought her free hand up to slide around the back of his neck. “I love you,” she told him firmly, needing him to know it. When she saw the gray rings around his eyes shift back to normal size, she knew that he had. 

“I love you too,” he said, putting his arm around her waist. She tugged his head down until she could kiss him, leaning up into it fervently. She wanted Ethan and everything about him to be engraved onto her heart, and all other parts of her as well. She thought he was already well on his way.

Notes:

... I still, somehow, managed to fuck up the chapter count. GOD -
There's an epilogue of sorts. This is not the last chapter.

Chapter 29: "Yes!"

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“And may all your Christmases be white.”

Applause broke out in Lauren and David’s living room as the last note of the song Ethan had played on the piano and sung along to lingered in the air. He turned on the piano bench, and his eyes met Sophie’s. She smiled at him, clapping along with everyone else. She couldn’t believe he’d hidden his musical inclination from her for as long as he had.

“That was lovely, Ethan,” her mother commented. 

“Thank you, Anna,” Ethan responded, holding out a hand to take Sophie’s as she joined him at the piano. He pulled her down onto his lap, sliding his arms around her midsection as he leaned forward to speak in her ear: “Satisfied?” 

“Yes,” Sophie said. “Although you have three Christmases to make up for, when it comes to singing carols.” 

Ethan snorted. “Right.”

Rosemary stood up from the couch she’d been sitting on next to Andrew. “We’d better go outside now, if we want to play a bit more in the snow before the sun sets,” she suggested. 

“Yeah!” Ian said, jubilantly, hopping up as well, tugging Andrew after him out of the living room. 

“Play in the snow,” Anna mumbled, reaching for her thick winter coat, purchased specifically for the trip. Sophie caught her next few words as she and Rosemary headed after the grandson and grandfather duo. “Never thought that’d be an activity I’d be part of, at my age.” 

Rosemary chuckled, and Sophie smiled to herself, turning on Ethan’s lap so that she could look at him. “What do you think?” she queried. “Wanna play in the snow?” 

Ethan gave her his half smile, and leaned in, kissing her gently. “Sure,” he said. “Then you’ll be more likely to cuddle with me afterwards, ‘cause you’ll be cold.” 

Sophie laughed, and stood, taking his hand again to pull him up as well. “Come on, then,” she suggested. 

Everyone else had already entered the backyard, by the time they got out the door. Ian and Alexis were chasing Andrew around the long-forgotten play set, which looked a little disused, now that Ian was too big for it, and Alexis was on her way there, too, while Lauren and David looked on from the back porch. Rosemary and Anna had retreated to one corner of the yard, where they were talking to one another. 

Sophie glanced up at Ethan, pleased to see his cheeks were already red, somehow, despite the fact that they’d only been outside for about two minutes. “We should rescue your dad.”

“Probably,” Ethan agreed, and started down the steps, wrangling Ian as he tried to jet past. “Easy! Grandpa’s old, remember,” he warned. 

“Hey!” Andrew retorted, only to have the wind knocked out of him as Alexis barreled into him, headfirst.

Sophie grinned, and went to join in the battle. 

Perhaps an hour later, the children had retreated inside thanks to the promise of hot chocolate from their mother. David has gone with them, leaving Sophie and Ethan outside with their parents. They’d all gone to one area of the yard, and Sophie could tell her mother had reached her limit of outside activity, when snow was part of the equation. 

“Ooh, there is a reason I’ve never lived outside of Texas,” Anna said, huddling into her coat, which looked too big on her thin frame. 

Sophie smiled at her mother. “You’re the one who said you wanted to see Washington,” she reminded her. 

“I wasn’t thinking… the tail end of December,” Anna grumbled, her breath a soft white puff in front of her face. “I don’t care how thrilling a snowball fight is; I’m too old.”

“Please, you’re being dramatic,” Sophie retorted, bending down and scooping some snow into her gloved hand. She chucked it at her mother, and Anna danced rather nimbly out of the way, frowning at her. 

“Sophie!” 

“What?” Sophie asked, amused. “I’m trying to show you that you don’t have to be scared of it.” 

Anna muttered something under her breath that Sophie didn’t catch, and she rolled her eyes a bit, turning to look at Ethan and his parents. She found them over by the snowmen that they’d built with Ian and Alexis the day prior, Rosemary gesturing to the one that Sophie and Ethan had worked on together. Ethan shrugged, dismissive, and his head turned in Sophie’s direction. He seemed a little anxious, she realized, seeing his expression. Sophie frowned a bit, and focused on her mother again. 

“You don’t have to stay out here, Mama,” she said. 

“Oh, good,” Anna sighed, sounding and looking relieved. “I’ve seen the snow, and I’ve stood in it for an hour, and I’ve decided that it’s enough for me.” She called across the yard to the others: “I’m going inside to help Lauren with her bread!” and then she did just that, marching back across the yard to the back porch, before disappearing through the back door into the house. 

Sophie made her own way through the snow, going over to Ethan and his parents. She laughed when she saw the concerned look on Rosemary’s face. 

“Don’t worry about her,” she said to Ethan’s mother. “The last time she saw snow, I think she was younger than Ian. She was right when she said that the snow would be her least favorite part of the trip.”

“I’m glad she decided to come, despite that,” Rosemary said. 

“She told me on the plane that she fell into a snowdrift when she was a little girl,” Ethan’s father commented. Rosemary and Andrew had first come to visit Ethan and Sophie in Waco before all five of them had flown into Seattle together for the holidays. 

“Oh.” Rosemary seemed bothered. “I wish she would’ve mentioned something. We could have flown Lauren and her family to Waco instead.” 

“No, this is good for her,” Sophie replied, leaning into Ethan’s side, hoping he’d take the hint. He did, of course, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, to help warm her up. “She hadn’t left Texas since we took a trip to California when I was still a teenager.” 

Rosemary didn’t look as though this alleviated her concern. “Well… next year, we’ll have Christmas in Waco,” she decided. 

“Where at, Mom?” Ethan questioned. “My apartment?” 

Rosemary waved her hand dismissively. “We’ll think of something. Maybe by then the two of you will have a house.”

Sophie smiled at the prospect. “That would be nice.” 

“Yes, it would,” Rosemary agreed. She then shivered a little. “You know, Sophie, maybe your mother has a point. I used to love the snow, but I think it loses its appeal, the older you get.”

Andrew gently tugged her into a hug. “It’s okay,” he said. “I can still keep you warm.” 

“C’mon, guys,” Ethan sighed in exasperation, while Sophie smiled at them, thinking they were adorable. 

Rosemary gave her son a teasing grin. “Fine,” she said, and stepped away from Andrew again, but held onto his hand. “Come on, dear. Come keep me warm somewhere more private.” 

“I cannot stand either of you!” Ethan called after them. Sophie laughed, and they both watched his parents disappear into the house. When they were out of sight, Ethan looked at her. 

“You know, you just encourage them by laughing. It feeds into it.” 

“They’re sweet,” Sophie said with a shrug. “Aren’t you happy your parents love one another, still?” 

Ethan glanced towards the house again, his shoulders falling. “Yes,” he said. “It’s great. They’re great.” His attention returned to her, but Sophie had already scooped up another handful of snow, and she tossed it into his face before he could say anything else. Ethan spluttered as she burst into laughter, and plodded away from him as fast as she could, moving across the yard towards the play set. 

“Why would you do that?” Ethan asked, bending down to roll a snowball of his own. “You know I can’t let it go unanswered.”

“You definitely can though,” Sophie called over her shoulder, not having gotten very far from him. She could feel the impending threat of his snowball looming over her, and suddenly regretted her actions. The bile taste of panic, however playfully induced, thickened on her tongue. “I’m sorry!” 

“I get to throw snow at you, now,” Ethan said, calmly, following her across the yard, using the tracks she’d already made to close the distance between them much quicker than Sophie was okay with. “This is what you signed up for.” 

“Ethan, please,” she begged, stumbling a little and almost plowing face first into the snow, which probably would’ve saved him some trouble. “Mercy, Winters, I beg of you.”

“There’s no mercy in the game of snow,” he informed her, catching her by her jacket. Sophie squeaked as he dumped the snow he’d gathered down the back of it, and spun away from him in her haste to shake it out. She tripped again, slipping, and grabbed the front of his jacket as she fell, which pulled him down into a snow drift with her. They both hit the snow laughing, however, and Ethan wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in for a kiss. 

“It’s too cold down here for this,” Sophie said against his lips. 

“Not if we keep each other warm,” Ethan replied, wisely, and she snorted, but let him kiss her again. 

It was enjoyable, until she felt her jacket soaking through, and the touch of cold dampness on her skin. She pressed against his chest, gently, pushing him away from her just a little. 

“I’m getting up,” she told him, and did just that. It wasn’t an easy task, considering the snow, and she knew Ethan was watching her in amusement throughout the entire process. She eventually got to her feet, huffing, and looked down at him again, wondering why he hadn’t decided to stand up as well, and prove just how easy it was for him to move in the snow. “Are you just going to stay down there?” she queried. 

“For a minute,” he replied, and she watched in surprise as he sat up, before shifting his weight so that he was resting down on one knee, hands in the pockets of his jacket. She blinked, her heart hiking its way up her throat. He couldn’t. Not here. Not now. What was he thinking?  

“Ethan -”

“I didn’t really… think it would happen like this,” he admitted, and then his hands reemerged from his pockets, a small black box between the fingers of his left. “But then I was down here, and you were up there, so.” He turned the box around, and opened it, revealing the ring inside of it. Sophie stared down at it, before lifting her gaze to meet his. Ethan smiled a bit. “I did have a speech planned, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t cover it all, even though I wanted it to. I guess the short of it is that you’ve been my whole world, for a while now, and I’d like to promise that it’s gonna stay that way.” 

Sophie was at a loss for words. The ring was beautiful; she hoped he hadn’t spent too much on it, especially considering they were hoping to buy a house, at some point in the future. “Winters...”

“Yeah, that’s… that’s where this is going,” he said. “You… also being a Winters. If you want.” 

Sophie let out a laugh. It was a bit watery, and not without reason. She could feel tears making their way down her cheeks. Ethan shifted, his expression altering briefly into one of discomfort. 

“Ah, my knee is actually super cold, so -” 

“Just ask me, then!” Sophie exclaimed, finally finding her voice. 

Ethan shook his head. “Okay, right.” He held up the box a little. “Soph, will you marry me?” 

“Yes,” she said. “Yes!” 

Ethan blew out a breath. “Phew.” Sophie giggled, and helped tug him to his feet. Once he was upright, he took a moment to place the ring onto her left hand. She looked at it for a moment, grinning, before glancing up at him again. Ethan wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her, deeply.

Sophie laughed into it as he tipped her backwards, her hat tumbling off her head. She rested her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, which wasn’t exactly necessary. His hold around her was secure enough to hold her up, and she forgot about her hat as they kissed, in the middle of his sister’s snow-filled yard in Washington, newly engaged. 

The kiss lasted longer than she’d expected it to, considering Ethan’s complaints from before. Eventually, he broke it off, smiling against her mouth as their foreheads came together for a moment, and they shared the same warm breath between them. 

Finally, he straightened them both back up. “Can we go inside now?” he asked. “My pants are going to freeze to my leg.”

“You’re the one who got down on his knee in the snow,” Sophie reminded him, but she was grinning. 

Ethan picked up her hat, shaking it out. “You’re the one who pulled us down into the snow in the first place.” He placed the hat back onto her head, and then cradled her jaw before she could step away, catching her in another kiss that she smiled through. 

“I love you,” she said, when he pulled back. 

“I love you too,” Ethan replied with a smile of his own. “Let’s go inside.” 

“Okay,” she chuckled, noting that his pants were wet, and her back wasn’t much better. Still, she couldn’t say that she was cold at all.

Notes:

That's it. She is finito.
Is there going to be a part 2? Yes, and it's already mostly written (about 130 pages out of a planned 200 or so), but considering I start work on 8/3/21, ah... I'm not so sure when I'll be finishing it, and I definitely don't know when I'll have the time to start editing and posting it, so... I guess just... keep an eye out? I'm excited about where it's gone, so far, and where it's going to go, and I'm happy to share it with everyone, since it seems like y'all were big fans of all this, so... yeah. When it's ready to be shared, I'll hopefully be able to do that.
I will let you know it's probably going to be titled "Resident Evil: Automatic." Y'know, to stick with the RE: AU thing.
What else...? I'd love to hear your thoughts on RE: Autonomy, so leave me those comments. I'll do my best to continue responding to each one, because I love that interaction shit, it's my favorite. If you have anything you'd like to know, about RE: AU, about Sophie, whatever, I'm happy to answer questions.
And I'd be thrilled to see any art or read any one-shots that anybody would like to write, featuring aspects of RE: AU. I'm a writer, but I'm no artist. Show me your depictions of Sophie! I'd love to see her.
I think that's about it, for me. RE: Automatic will come, so keep watch. Talk to me in the comments. Draw pictures, write stories, if you want. I loved this story, I love these characters, I love Resident Evil, and I love you all.
Thank you.

Chapter 30: IT'S HAPPENING

Summary:

IT'S HAPPENING

Chapter Text

It's up, it's up! The first chapter of Resident Evil: Automatic is now up and running, people! 

Resident Evil: Automatic is here!

Please go check it out, and tell me what you think in the comments! I'm so excited! You can tell by the number of exclamation marks I'm using! 

Series this work belongs to: