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Nor the hand that is healing

Chapter 2: 2.

Notes:

hiiiii i had to write half of this chapter on my flatmate's laptop because mine broke down so if it sucks im sorry
thank u tammy for the beta

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The mornings are rough when the nights are filled with screams and tears. Ethan dreams of Mia killing him, more so than her dying as time goes on. He dies with dirt in his mouth and his eyes filled with blood. He dies, and his limbs are missing. They are not growing back. He dies and there are bugs filling his coffin. He sometimes sees them above his grave, the Bakers. They don’t cry, nor do they ever leave. They don’t smile and they don’t speak. They bring food - the Mold. Eat. This will heal you. There is a girl standing between Jack and Marguerite, she’s holding their hands. Some nights she laughs down at him, some nights she weeps. The Mold grows above them, cradling their world in its hands. Some nights he wants to stay buried. 

 

As he later learns, Mia dreams a lot of Zoe, and how Ethan chose not to save her but his wife. His wife, who disappeared for three years and was the reason he had to go through this hell in the first place, the wife that brought this fate upon the family and her own husband. Ethan chose her over a woman that helped him stay alive in the house, that did everything in her power to help them all get out, the one that actually did something good. Ethan lies to Mia that it wasn’t her fault it came to this. He doesn’t say anything else. 



They undergo training. In theory, it’s simple enough. Mia learns how to handle a weapon properly, how to keep herself safe, how to aim better, how to keep her arms steady. It’s hard when all she thinks about is the Mold and the Bakers. Sooner or later, she gets a hang of it. 

 

Ethan learns how to handle himself, how to build up his strength, how to defend himself and how to move in the position of danger. Chris tells him he's pretty good at shooting ; one might think it’s a huge compliment coming from Chris Redfield himself, but Ethan knows that Chris has too much faith in everyone. He also says he should train his aim anyway.

 

When he gets to shooting, his left hand is always there, right in front of him when he’s pointing the gun at the paper targets. 

 

He’s in the house, the walls covered in dried blood and dirt, paint falling off, the smell of rotting flesh and dirty water in the air. It feels like his bones are crawling in on themselves, his chest hot and his legs weak. He swears that on his neck, he can feel the bugs that build Marguerite, crawling down his back, lower and lower and lower and—

 

And he’s on the floor, his legs shuddering full force, his arms clenching to his knees, he’s sobbing. A voice tells him to breathe. Breathe, Ethan. And so he does, in and out. When he looks up, Chris is right next to him, his expression stern. Ethan breathes, and slowly he reaches out for the other man, hand landing on Chris’ shoulder, fingers grabbing at the sleeve of his shirt. And he breathes, in and out. In and out. 

 

“You okay?” Chris asks once Ethan’s breathing evens out. Ethan shakes his head. 

 

“I don’t think I am Chris,” his voice breaking around Redfield’s name. “I don’t think I’ll ever be.” 

 

He gets up and Chris is on his feet immediately, letting Ethan use him as a support to actually stand. 

 

The movements are hesitant at first, an awkward hand on the shoulder there, and another around Ethan’s back, but in the end Chris is wrapping the man in a hug. A gentle one, one that Ethan can easily get out of if he wants to. When the smaller man returns the hug, Chris feels relief. Ethan rests his forehead on Chris’ chest, as the tears that fall find their landing in his shirt. 

 

“Does it get easier?” Ethan asks quietly, because he figures that if anyone is going to know the answer to the question, it has to be Chris.

 

“Sometimes. It’s gonna get better, Ethan, I promise.” 

 

After some time, Ethan’s able to shoot a gun without feeling like he’s dying.


 

Chris introduces Ethan to his team, The Hound Wolf Squad. They tell Ethan that he is always welcomed among them. They don’t tell him that it’s mostly because they like to play bets between themselves. Is their boss going to be making puppy eyes at Ethan? Maybe this time they'll be able to hear the smile in Chris’ voice? Perhaps he will laugh at Winters, in a way he only does when he laughs with him? Maybe he’ll gaze at Ethan’s back when he’s leaving? Or is it going to be a combination of all of these scenarios? 

 

They guess when he’s going to tell Ethan, and Chris pretends that he doesn’t know what they’re whispering between each other about during their lunch breaks.

 

Watching the two men interact is one of the highlights of their days. Ethan leaves the room and before Chris can turn around and say anything, Lobo is whistling. 

 

“Well, Captain, I can’t say I’m surprised.” A smirk on his face. Someone, probably Canine, snorts in the back. 

 

“Not a word,” Chris grumbles. 

 

“Sure thing, Boss.” 


 

Occasional check-ups turn into frequent visits, and visits turn into stays. It’s not the first time that Chris spends his time with the Winters, but now it’s different. They learn their routines, their likes and dislikes. They watch their favorite movies together. Ethan makes them all watch the Jurassic Park series. Slowly, yet so fast, like a seed making its way up to the Sun, pushing through the dirt, Chris becomes part of the house in the middle of the woods: house so warm and comfortable like a woolen sweater in winter, house that creaks with love and affection, house full of affection and familiar patterns. 

 

Mia talks about art, she breathes it and spends her energy on slowly planting the love for creating into others. It’s something that brings out her heart, something that helps her heal. She speaks of Henry Scott Tukes and Elebert Joseph Penots, she speaks of Marcel Duchamps and Man Rays. She fills their home with books and magazines, paintings and all the little things she finds charming. 

 

Ethan and Chris spent their evenings going through the music collection Mia got her hands around. It’s a bit of bands they have never heard of and some classical pieces, the other bit is easier to recognize. At some point, Ethan puts on The National every time Chris comes over. 

 

“Have I ever told you about the first time me and Ethan met?” Mia asks Chris, looking him in the eye. 

 

“Mia.” Ethan’s voice is firm. He looks to his wife and gives her a pleading look. 

 

Chris is not able to answer that no, he hasn’t , because Mia already has a smirk on her face, and he knows she’s going to tell the whole story anyway.

 

“We set up a date over Facebook, because Ethan didn’t have a phone.” Mia starts and Ethan groans into his hands. “I go to the café we were supposed to meet at. He’s sitting at one of the tables with a laptop that looks like somebody stepped on it.”

 

“I dropped my phone, and it got fucked up. The laptop was the only thing I had left.”

 

“Ethan, who doesn’t have a phone?” 

 

“A lot of people!” Ethan shrugs dramatically. 

 

“He called people through Skype. On his laptop,” Mia is looking at Chris, her face half a smile, half a grimace. 

 

“And you worked as an IT system engineer?” Chris shoots at Ethan and grins when the other man makes a sound of displeasure. 

 

“How is that relevant? That’s not relevant!” 

 

“I mean… It kind of is,” Mia points out. 

 

“No, it’s not! That was before I graduated.”

 

“Whatever you say,” she puts a hand on his shoulder, and Ethan glances at her with brows furrowed, “I go to him, we greet each other, we order our drinks. He talks about college, I talk about college, you know the usual, nothing interesting, and then there’s the Skype ringtone coming out of his laptop and he’s like “Wait, I gotta take this,” she’s trying to imitate Ethan’s voice and the man rolls his eyes at her, “and he walks out with the laptop and I can see him talking to it.”

 

“No way,” Chris chuckles, and when Ethan gives him a look, and he’s almost pouting, Chris laughs.

 

“She’s not lying,” Ethan sighs, “listen, it could have been much worse.” 

 

“It could have been. I married you after all.” Mia gets up and presses a kiss to her husband’s cheek. 

 

He meets Ethan’s eye, and they smile at each other. It almost feels like they’re sharing a secret. There’s a flutter of joy that sets itself in Chris’ muscles and bones. Warmth spreads and wraps around him. 

 

His world is filled with pain and blood and broken hearts, but occasionally he gets to sit here, in the house where Ethan plays the piano, soft melodies filling the rooms, and where the walls are filled to the brim with Mia’s cooking. A house where Chris is able to rest in, a house that lets him grow. He wants to catch that security in his hands, put it in a jar, keep it at the back of his cupboard. He wants to drink it and eat it and wrap his arms around it, never letting go. 

 

Looking at Ethan and Mia, he thinks, that he can’t help loving them. He traces his fingers over the affection, and it’s fuzzy, it tickles, and like a feather, it’s light. 

Notes:

davi: SKYPE???????????? thats the worst thing you could have done to ethan make him use skype

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