Actions

Work Header

Begotten

Chapter Text

   The void is all around him. A dark crooked forest with eyes staring from the depths. Hands reaching towards him, wanting what he has. He pushes them away and they recoil.  

There is one shape more solid than the others, with familiar hair. 

“Mia?” Ethan’s voice cracks. The shape wears the same clothes she did on that night when everything went wrong. He remembers when she bought them in the local store. It was one of their first shopping trips after they had settled in. 

She turns around at his call. 

Her face… its face is fluctuating medley. As though it is unsure what she looks like, of who she is. Ethan thinks he recognizes the face of Miranda, of Zoe, many others he could not name. It makes him sick. 

“Why are you doing this!?” He screams. The fog parts. 

The distorted creature opens its mouth, a black void where nothing can exist. 

“You took everything.” Its voice echoes, quiet and loud all at the same time. There is nothing human, nothing familiar in it. 

“You killed my daughter!” he stalks over to it, hesitating as he sees Mia’s face. 

“Not us, Miranda, we do not hurt, we just give.” it intones. “We gave you life, gave you a future you had lost, we returned your daughter as she was, not as Miranda wished.” 

Ethan takes a step back as it takes a step forward. 

“Yet you wish to take it all, ungrateful to our gifts.” it shakes its head. 

“I did not ask for any of this, not at the cost of bringing back all the people that terrorized my family!” he looks down, gathering willpower to stand determined against the Mycete broken image. The anger and fear that he pushed down since waking up coming to the surface. “You took everything from me! And now! Now you are saying this existence is a gift? Being some broken toy for the schemes of some freaky mold?” Ethan shakes his head. “What do you want!? I at least deserve this. I have gone along with enough!” 

It looks down and up at him with its flickering shape, that looks less familiar with every passing minute. 

The silence stretches. Ethan tries to gather his thoughts. He needs answers but how does he even begin to get them from this thing. 

“Tell me why you are doing this?!” he begs, a desperate line to his voice. It feels wrong to be so far gone that he has to beg. 

“It will help your daughter.” It answers.

“What?” Ethan narrows his eyes. 

“Like you are of us, she is of us, like all the children who died within us are of us.” The distorted voice sends shivers down his spine at what it means. 

“No, why… This was over…” Ethan digs his nails into his skull to keep from shaking. 

“If you do not do what we ask, your daughter will waste away and come back to the mold.” It crosses its arm behind its back. 

“My daughter will…” he sucks in a breath. He looks down at his hands, battered and broken. Ethan digs his thumb into the wound still not healed on his left arm. The pain helps anchor him. 

“You knew this reality, this is why your returned Ethan Winters, for your daughter.”  The foggy forest around them seems to shrink. “I know you understand, so wake, and do what we require” There is a snapping sound as the scenery around them breaks like a mirror. 

Ethan opens his eyes with a startled gasp, reality bringing it back with the harsh light of the sun. He clutches a blanket in his hand. Someone must have put him on the bed. 

He sits up with a groan, eyes dry, crusted. 

“Ah, it seems your papa is awake.” The Duke cuts through Ethan’s fear. He is sitting on the floor in the corner of the room near Rose’s crib. Moreau and Donna are sitting by him, doodling in picture books with crayons. Snack plates stacked on a small foldable table. 

Moreau scrunches his face. “Papa…?” he shakes his head. “I don’t have a papa.” 

“He means momma, Sal” she points with Angie, getting better at controlling the doll. 

The Duke chuckles. 

Ethan gets off the bed. The Mycete tightens around his wrist to remind him it's there. He wonders for a moment how The Duke managed to get up the stairs and into the room with his girth. It is a mystery but not one he cares to solve. There is not much that makes sense about the man, so he does not dwell on it. 

“Did you have a good talk?” The Duke looks at him with a knowing glance. Ethan flinches, annoyance pulsing through his mind. He pushes it down. There is something he has to do. 

“Please… watch the… kids” He mutters with heavy pauses.  

“Say no more.” The Duke nods. “These little ones are in good hands.” he reaches for Moreau, as he is closest, ruffling his hair. 

“Noooo!” he squeals, laughing. 

Ethan smiles. “Thank you.” he turns away from them. The briefcase lies closed in the far corner of the room. He strides over. It seems heavier than it was. 

None of this sits right with him. How does he know the Mycete is not lying to him. How does he know it is not just Miranda trying to trick him. 

He stumbles out into the hall. The bathroom door is still open and the cheap camping lamp is still bathing the hall with eerie yellow light. 

Ethan almost trips when the floor switches from wood to the smooth tiles of the bathroom. He makes sure to close the door. The briefcase falls on the tile with a loud thump against the bathtub. Its leather creaks as he opens it.  Ethan sits down on the toilet lid. The crystal heart is cold under his touch. The mycete tendrils close around it with immediate urgency.

The heart starts to glow. It pulses under his hand with a rhythmic tune, like a half-forgotten melody from the past. 

Ethan tightens the remaining fingers of his left hand around his elbow in support as the now-familiar pain takes his breath away. The Mycete cuts off the light from the heart with a hungry fever, devouring it faster than it has any before it. 

Fear is tight in his chest. Fear that he will get used to being driven by the Mycete. He is afraid that he will allow himself to be consumed by the power the thing offers, that there will be no limit to how far he will go now that he has said yes. 

"Still alive, still strong. Delicious" The Mycete hums.

This is all for Rose, but what if he ends up hurting her instead of saving her. What if he forgets his humanity just as Miranda had. What if he becomes nothing but a monster to be killed. His thoughts start to spiral. 

Heat builds in his entire body, his stomach twists, and grumbles in the complaint. 

“If you are so afraid, then give it to me, you pathetic man.” Miranda doubles her determination to fight, to win, to take back what she believes is hers. 

“You will never have it.” Ethan groans. 

The tendrils have finished making the cacoon and the pain fades as fast as it came. The bulging bloated bloody mess grows large. Ethan picks it up and puts it in the bathtub to keep the mess contained. 

The door creaks open. Ethan snaps his eyes up. Donna stumbles in holding a bundle of clothing with precarious balance, Angie in her other arm. 

“Young Heisenberg will need something to wear!” The Duke shouts from the bedroom. 

“Thank you, Donna” Ethan moves to pull the shower curtain shut before she sees the mass of meat. It is not something the child needs to see. He takes the clothes, simple tan overalls, and a green shirt. He puts them on his lap. 

Donna nods with a smile. She runs back to the bedroom, excited to get back to playing. The door creaks shut. Ethan can’t get up to close it all the way. 

He leans back against the toilet, closing his eyes. There is no specific time at how long it will take for this child to grow. 

***

Ethan must have dozed off while waiting, the clock on his wrist reads an hour later. He scrunches his brow, trying to figure out what had woken him. The dream that had fogged his mind dispels as the same sound stirs him. It is a quiet whimper, terrified and pained. 

Ethan jumps to his feet.

The child’s hand is all he sees peeking out behind the shower curtain. It rustles, clattering on the rod as he pulls the plastic back. 

The boy’s hazel eyes are wide, wild. Fresh barely healed scars cover his small face. He screams, a loud piercing sound, filled with young rage and incoherent words in a language Ethan vaguely recognizes but can't place. 

The child half slips half tumbles in a scramble to get out of the bath. His little fists lash out at Ethan and he falls back, eyes wild with anger and fear. The clothes, Heisenberg's old clothes are too large for him and he stumbles. 

Ethan catches him. “Woah there” 

“Let me go!” He shrieks. “Take me back!” He switches to English. 

“Turned too old” The Mycete intones, as though that is helpful.  

“Hey, hey, stop.” Ethan stops the small fists from punching. “Look at me.” 

Tears spill down the child’s cheeks, eyes wide and confused “You… aren’t mother... but…” he pushes Ethan away, curling the trenchcoat around his small body. “Do you work for that bitch?” he growls, pushing away the fear to replace it with anger. That must have been how he survived. 

“No.” Ethan sits back. “I killed her” he decides to add, it is the news the child needs to hear. 

Karl snaps his head up. “Dead?” he laughs, a harsh laugh. “She’s dead” He slumps in the bath, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion floods his little body.  

“Let’s get you dressed.” Ethan keeps his voice low, gentle. He picks up the clothes Donna had given him, they had fallen in the scuffle. 

Heisenberg scrunches his nose at the remains of the Mycete around him. Ethan holds out a hand to help him out. The boy ignores it, choosing to scamper out himself, slipping a few times. He takes the clothes, ripping them out of Ethan’s grip. 

“I’ll leave you to get cleaned up.” Ethan stands up. “Call if you need anything.” 

Heisenberg looks up at him with something akin to surprise before it is replaced by distrust. 

Ethan moves around the child, steps out of the bathroom, and closes the door. 

He rubs at his temple, the headache is showing no sign of dissipating. Ethan walks back to the bedroom. The Duke is nowhere to be seen. 

Donna and Moreau are in bed, fast asleep, Angie between them. Ethan does not enter the bedroom as to not disturb them. They all had a long day. 

There is a sound coming from downstairs, from what feels like the tv. Ethan walks back up the hall and down the stairs with quiet steps. 

The Duke is sitting by the tv, flicking through the local channels. The cable is no doubt long dead. 

“Ah, so how did it go?” He turns it off. 

Ethan flicks the light switch, breathing a sigh of relief when the bulb flickers to light. “How did you manage that” He gestures at the tv. The living room is clean, almost sparkling. 

“I have my secrets.” The Duke laughs, patting his chest pocket. 

Ethan rolls his eyes. 

“It was a pleasure spending time with you and the young lords.” The Duke gets to his feet with an example of strength that makes the entire house creak. He keeps his head down as to not hit the ceiling. “I have other business, so I will have to bid you farewell.” 

“Thanks” Ethan nods. He brushes his hand over the couch as he walks the Duke to the door. It is busted enough that the large man has no problem getting out. That will have to be fixed. 

“I made sure to fill the pantry and the fridge for you and your family.” He hoists himself onto the wagon. “I have taken the liberty to take some of your lei, I’m sure you do not mind.” 

Ethan shakes his head. He will never need that much currency as he collected in the village.  

“Good luck to you, Ethan Winters.” he salutes and starts to nudge the horse to turn around. 

Ethan watches until he is out of sight going down the road. 

The stairs creak from the hall. He turns around. Heisenberg looks out from under a weathered leather hat as he enters the living room. His signature glasses hanging on a string around his neck with the dog tags and the scale. He must have found it in the briefcase. 

The overalls fit him perfectly. 

“You want to eat something?” Ethan moves around the table. 

Heisenberg hesitates. Suspicious. 

“What’s your favorite food, Karl?” He sits down at one of the chairs, still facing the boy. 

“Don’t call me that.” he snaps. 

“What do you want to be called?” Ethan waves as a question.  

Heisenberg narrows his eyes, studying the battered man in front of him. “Heisen.” his voice is clipped.  

“How does some grill cheese sound?” Ethan stands up. Heisen takes a step back.  He walks into the kitchen. Heisen trails after him. 

“What is that…?” 

Ethan chuckles. “It is very good.” He opens the fridge. It is filled to the brim with food. He scans it until he sees some cheese and butter. 

He grabs it.  

“Why are you doing this.” Heisen crosses his arms, curiosity overshadowing his suspicion. 

“Doing what?” Ethan sets down the cheese and searches for some bread.  

Heisen twists his lips. 

“Making lunch?” he glances at the kid after he finds the bread in one cupboard.  

“Being so nice.” he huffs. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ethan takes out a pan and sets it on the stove. 

Heisen opens his mouth, then closes it. He does this several times. 

“Heisen.” Ethan sighs. He sits down at the kitchen table while waiting for the pan to heat. 

The kid looks up at him across the island. 

“I do not know what Miranda did to you, I do not know what you remember” he keeps his eyes focused on the child. 

Heisenberg bites his lip, little fangs poking out. “I don't… know.” he swallows “I don’t remember. There is something” he swallows again. “Why don’t I remember? What did you do to us.” 

Ethan thinks carefully. The wrong answer could panic the kid. Neither of them needs that. 

He pulls up his sleeve to show the Mycete. 

Heisen growls. “Mother”  He shrinks back. 

“This is something we call the Mega-Mycete.” he stretches his arm out. The tendrils shift. 

Heisen gets on one of the high chairs, looking up, asking for permission to touch it. 

Ethan nods. 

The tendrils flinch back at the child’s touch. Then they curl around his thumb. 

“That’s fucked up.” he crunches his nose. 

“Language” Ethan chides out of habit, fixing Heisenberg with a glare. 

The child scoffs. They will have to work on that over time. 

The pan hisses and crackles as it gets hot enough. 

“What does it do?” Heisen asks as Ethan pulls back. 

“Keeps us alive. It is a deal I made, you kids for my daughter.” he regrets what he said as soon as it leaves his mouth. 

“So you are using us,” Heisenberg smirks. That makes more sense than anything anybody could say 

“No, it's…” Ethan sighs. “I need you kids, more than you need me” he swallows. “It’s… I…” he scratches at his neck. 

Heisen relaxes. He knows where he stands now. “So, you got some grub?” he looks at the stove. No longer interested in explanations. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah.” Ethan stands up. He sighs, releasing a long breath through his nose until he is somewhat light-headed. 

He cuts several slices of bread from the hearty loaf, slathering them with the soft butter out of the container. 

“What do I call you?” Heisen must have jumped down and circled to approach Ethan. He stares at the slices of bread with pure hunger.

“Careful off the stove.” Ethan gives him a piece of bread. 

Heisen nibbles on it, cautious.  

The butter sizzles as he places the slices in the pan. followed by the cheese and another piece of bread. 

“What do you want to drink, Milk, juice?” he keeps an eye on the sandwiches. 

“Just like that?” he speaks with his mouth full, some crumbs fall on the floor. 

“What do you mean?” he looks at the kid. 

“Mother never fed us the more expensive stuff. We had to take it from the villagers.” he shrugs. 

The hate for Miranda grows deeper in Ethan’s heart, and it gets easier to resist her constant drivel in the back of his consciousness. 

“In this house, you can have anything, anytime you want.” he points at the fridge. “Go pick something out.” 

Heisen is uncertain. 

“It’s alright. Go get something.” he waves again. 

Heisenberg moves with slow steps towards the fridge. He keeps glancing at Ethan as though he is waiting for the man to lash out and stop him. 

Ethan turns his attention to the sandwiches, taking out a spatula, flipping them. 

The fridge hisses open after several minutes. The rattling of bottles. Several moments later, Heisen returns with a glass juice bottle, sipping with careful slurps. 

“Let me see that for a minute” Ethan reaches for the bottle. 

Heisen clutches it closer, that same look of distrust flashing in his gaze.  Tension in every muscle of his young, thin body. 

“It would be better in a plastic glass.” He reaches up to the cupboard, taking one out. “I can pour it for you” 

“I got it” He lifts the glass bottle, pouring some of the juice into the glass. At first, everything is fine, then the kid's hand trembles, and some of it spills on the counter. 

Heisen’s face goes pale. He freezes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t”

Ethan snatches the bottle before it can fall and spill more, or worse shatter. He sets it on the counter

“It’s fine, no big deal.” Ethan takes out the sandwiches and sets them on a plate. He turns off the heat  “Get the towels, right there in the top drawer” he gestures. 

Heisen brow furrows farther with confusion. “You really aren’t Mother,” he mutters, reaching where Ethan directed. The sound of tearing paper fills the room. 

“Let’s get this cleaned up then eat our food.” He takes some paper towels from the roll. Heisen is not having much luck wiping away the juice, he keeps looking at Ethan, deep in thought. 

“There we go” he nods, throwing the towel in the sink for now. He can clean later.  “Come on, the sandwiches are going to get cold” He hands the plastic glass to Heisen, feeling better that he won't have to deal with broken glass and an injured kid. 

Heisenberg reaches for the sandwich. He flinches back just before he takes it, looking at Ethan. 

“Sit down first, then dig in.” he nods. 

Heisen scrambles onto one of the bar chairs. Grabbing one of the bottom sandwiches. “Ow hot.” he drops it. 

Ethan turns back to grab a plate, placing it in front of Heisen. “Take your time to eat, don't burn your tongue.” 

“How many can I eat?” He picks up the sandwich again, moving it from one hand to the other in an attempt to cool it. 

“As many as you want, but don’t get sick” Ethan takes a sandwich of his own, biting into it. His stomach twists. He can barely keep it down. 

Heisenberg is too busy chomping down on the grilled cheese with pure pleasure, forgetting that anything exists beyond the food. 

Ethan watches the child enjoy himself with a gentle smile. So different from the man that was taunting him just a short time ago. This isn’t so bad.

Heisen falters on the third grilled cheese. It is half-eaten. 

“Don’t force yourself” Ethan takes away the large plate that has two sandwiches left. 

“Father always said I should never waste food.” he forces another bite. 

“It’s bad to force yourself to eat more than you can.” Ethan takes the kid's smaller plate before Heisen can take another mouthful. The boy looks relieved. He yawns. 

“There is an extra bed in the room upstairs, you should rest” Ethan stands up, taking the two plates, putting them by the sink. 

“My bed…I get a bed?” his eyes are wide. 

“It’s just upstairs. It probably needs new blankets though.” Ethan waves. “We might still have some clean ones in the upstairs closet.” 

Heisen does not hear the last part. He takes off up the stairs. 

Ethan chuckles and follows after him. 

The boy is standing by the door to the bedroom. “Who are they?” he asks, loud. 

“Keep your voice down, they are sleeping.” Ethan puts a hand at the small of his back. “The study is just back by the stairs.” he guides Heisen around. 

“Who are they though?” 

“That’s Donna and little Moreau, they are your siblings.” Ethan turns on the light in the study. 

“I don’t have a sister, ew” he scrunches his face in disgust. 

“I can introduce you three tomorrow, for now, get some rest.” He lets the kid look around as he goes to one of the drawers, taking out clean but somewhat dusty blankets. 

Heisenberg yawns again. He feels the bed. “Wow, It’s so soft.” He climbs on it, gets to his feet. The bed creaks as he starts to bounce on it. Dust goes everywhere. 

“Hey now, don’t jump on the bed” Ethan coughs, waving away the dust. 

Heisen stops with a pout on his lips. He wants to jump more. 

“There is too much dust,” Ethan explains. “Get down for a minute.” 

The boy does as he is told. Ethan carefully takes off the covers and blankets, placing them on the floor. “Here, help me out.” he throws the clean fitted blanket over the mattress. Heisenberg takes one edge and fulls it tight. Together they manage to get the new covers on in no time. 

“Good job” Ethan smiles. 

Heisen blinks. “It’s just stupid chores. You’re weird” the kid rolls his eyes. There is a blush on his cheeks though, it must have been a long time ago since someone praised him for help. 

“I will be downstairs if you need me” Ethan straightens as he pats down the duvet. 

“Really, I can really stay here?” he looks around in disbelief. 

“Yeah, get some rest. If you need the bathroom, I'm going to leave a nightlight on in the hall. The door is open so you can find it. ” Ethan nods. “I am here if you need anything, just call, no matter what.” 

He knows that he will have to reassure the kids many times as they spend together. Heisen is still concerned and suspicious but he is not going to question it. It feels nice to relax and not be afraid for once. 

Ethan closes the door as the kid settles on the bed. 

He goes back to the bedroom. Satisfied that the other two kids are still resting, he takes some clean clothes, then goes towards the bathroom. He clicks the door shut but does not lock it. 

The meat the tendril made has dissolved as though it was never there beyond a thin pink film in the bath. Ethan turns on the water. 
 
He will take a shower, get cleaned up. Then get some sleep himself. There is no doubt that tomorrow will bring more excitement. He has to be awake and aware. The warm water on his hand does a lot to ease the tension in every muscle of his body. Ethan lets his mind wander. He hopes that he will do right by the children despite the situation.

He takes off the several layers of clothes before stepping into the shower. Watching as the swirls of dirt, blood, and sweat get washed down the drain. 

Everything that happened hits him in its entirety for the first time that day and he lets it wash over him. Tears spill down his cheeks, the guilt, the regret, the pain. How again he has no choice but to fight for even a slither of happiness. He sinks to his knees under the warm water stream, shaking. “It will be okay, we will be okay” his voice trembles. The mantra does not convince him. Ethan lets his emotions wash over his mind. 

He does not know how long he cries there, long enough for the water to run cold. 

When he gets out, he is shivering.

He puts on the pajamas, soft against his battered skin. It makes him feel better. 

By the time he reaches the bedroom again, all he can do is collapse on the bed by the kids and fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.