A/N- This is a translation of a fanfic that I finished some time ago; as my english is not perfect it may contain some mistakes here and there, so I apologize for that. Also, while the original fic is finished this translation is still a work in progress so it will take a while to translate and upload all the chapters.

With that said, here's the story of Ethan, just another person in this rotten world that tries to make a change, or at least tries to be part of it, and his journey to join the Fireflies.

Thank you for reading.

Chapter 1 -Brothers

He was safe at last. Three days all by himself; he thought he'd be strong enough, he thought he could make it, but drowned in sorrow he started to realize what was reality and what was fiction, and he felt that dichotomy growing as the timed passed by; he remembered when he told them, his 'partners', that he could live without them, that he didn't need them. He damned them and damned their lifestyle; he didn't want to live as that anymore, pretending to be fine with himself; there wasn't such thing as a ' greater good', and if it was, it wasn't worth it, after everything he had to get done in his life. All that talk was now dust in the air, and the worst part was that he didn't want to forget his intentions, but he felt that something was dying inside of him, dying alongside his will.

The truth is that he leaved his group; he wasn't a hunter anymore, after five years living with blood on his hands. But life hadn't been kind to him, as usual, and after three days trying not to die in the hands of another group, he hadn't have even five hours to sleep peacefully, and his body was telling him that he was demanding too much. He was trying to avoid any building dark enough to be a potential place to find clickers or stalkers; after all, he never fought them alone.

His face was tired, and his eyes demanded rest, but he knew he couldn't give up; it couldn't end that way. He didn't remember being like that in years; after all, alongside his group, food was never a big problem. "Food," he thought; he was hungry as hell.

It was dark, probably midnight, but at least that damned trucked wasn't following him anymore. He rested for a couple of minutes, recovering his breath, lying on the floor in an abandoned shop; he tried to look for something to eat but it was useless. It was time to move, he thought, but then he remembered something that he didn't want to: he didn't know where to go, he didn't have a clue. He only knew one thing, and that was that he didn't want to continue being surrounded by people that he defined as evil; twenty years had been enough to wipe out almost every trace of morality on earth, but he once lived in that world, the previous one; it wasn't perfect, or at least that is what he remembered, but it wasn't like this one: kindness, respect, even love: this world didn't know such things at all. Just as he abandoned all his 'comrades' back with the hunters after years surviving: those kind of things happened all the time. But then what's left of the world? Nothing but brutality and cruelty… But it couldn't be like that; he couldn't be the only one that believed in those ideals even after two decades in a whole new world. He knew that he was a hypocrite talking about respecting the life of others; his hands were as bloody as the worst killer, but he couldn't be the only one that was able to see the world in a different way. He had to find people like him, people that still would have faith in humanity.

It was during the night that his call was finally answered. He was exploring an exit that could lead him out of the city: out of that hell, but then he encountered two people; it was just after entering a room from which he could inspect that exit and the hunters that were protecting it. Quickly, he aimed his Colt revolver, but in reality he was bluffing for his life; he didn't have any bullets. He was nervous, both his head and his hands, and he saw how that unknown person also had a pistol aimed at him, but it wasn't until, in the darkness of the night, he saw the other man that he calmed down. It wasn't a man: it was a boy. He lived five years as a hunter, and the rules weren't unknown to him: no kids; they were hard to train, they were immature, and could easily ruin a well-planned assault. He lowered the gun slowly, just as he noticed that the man with the gun was lowering his too. They were probably brothers.

"You are not one of them, are you?" He asked first; deception was a daily routine, but he was ready to risk his life. If that man was someone like him, then it was definitely worth it.

The unknown man just stared at him, finally lowering the gun completely, and for a moment he could see that stranger lowering also his shoulders after a good scene.

"You really had me there," the unknown man answered, with more of a happy tone, weird in that situation, if not funny, but then he talked to the boy. "Sam, come here, there's no problem: he's not one of them."

Then the boy appeared from the shadows, he should've been like fourteen at most: he had won that gamble.

"My name is Henry, and this is Sam, my brother. What's your name?"

"… Ethan" he answered, with a little smile drawn on his face, "Ethan."

For the first time in three long ass days he had found someone that didn't want to kill him. But again: it was still a gamble, and he had risked his life doing that. Five years… it was worth it, even if all he'd get from that was a bullet in the chest.

"Well, Ethan, apart from the fact that you almost made me shoot you, what's your business here?"

"I'm actually trying to get out of this city… I was exploring the outsides when a truck started following me… I had no chance but to try to hide in the city, but it wasn't a good idea…"

"Sounds like a shitty life if you ask me," Henry answered, again with his light tone; Ethan didn't know if he was doing that to light the mood, or he was just like that, "we had the wonderful idea of exploring the city to find supplies… you know; something to keep us alive, but the last thing I remember is being ambushed by that very same truck alongside my group, we had no chance but to split up… we're trying to figure out how to get to them again… but with that truck out there that's no easy task… what about you? Are you all by yourself?"

Ethan had a little flashback then: Mike tried to convince him of not leaving the group. Mike was just like him, but unfortunately he had gave up on life; all to survive. But even with that he wasn't happy about it, after all he was his only true friend in that place.

"No," he answered, "I'm alone."

"You must be crazy, my friend," Henry answered, but with the best of intentions, "with all those things around there, you live with your gang or you just don't live… I'll tell you something… with Sam we're trying to get to our group; you come with us until we get to them: three is better than two… and even better than one… we get out of this hole, and then you can go whenever you want… you could even join our group… and don't look to that window," he said, pointing at the exit Ethan was inspecting before, "that exit is not an option, hunters guarding it 24 hours a day."

Henry's idea wasn't crazy at all; both sides gained something: after all he was good avoiding problems, and sometimes facing them, and Sam couldn't be much less if he was still alive after two decades.

"I'll go with you," he finally answered, making Henry smile a little, "do you have some bullets?" he laughed

The good thing about the night was that sneaking was easier, hiding in the shadows without being spotted by hunters patrolling the streets, and by doing that they could avoid entering dark buildings; they could protect them from the hunters, but not from the clickers or stalkers. He didn't tell anyone, but in secret he was scared of them: being attacked by one, or even worse: being one.

And it was after an hour walking in the streets of Pittsburgh that they reached an abandoned house clean enough to look friendly; they entered it and decided to take a break. It wasn't the walk or the lack of sleep; it was the feeling of being spotted every second, to run for your life what tired him the most. One can live being stressed for a long time, but can't deny the side effects.

"What's your plan after finding your friends?" Ethan asked, more confident, "I suppose is not just wandering around there."

In reality, that question was for himself, but if Henry had an answer, he was more than happy to hear it. He needed something like that: he needed a guide. In the end, he couldn't see his fate having nothing to do with those two brothers.

"Actually, we want to join the fireflies… you know, live with them, and try to help to end all this shit we're living in, doesn't it sound good?"

"Actually… yes."

The fireflies, that group of people trying to find a cure. Unfortunately, for him there was no light to seek, and by the time he joined his group of hunters all hope was lost about even consider finding a cure something possible. But there was something in Henry's voice, or his tone, that made him reconsider his decision.

"After we get out of this hole… can I join your group? I'd like to join the fireflies too… if they're looking for a cure… they can't be that bad."

Without even knowing it, he had chosen his future. Yes, it was true that the fireflies couldn't find the cure in all those years, but if they we're trying to find it, if they wanted to help humanity, they couldn't be worse that the hunters; he'd join them and find a place to be in peace with himself.

"Of course," Henry answered, "one more man worth saving is never a bad thing… my friends will like you."

He was in a city full of hunters trying to kill him, but even like that, he then had a moment of true joy and happiness. He wasn't alone, and that emotion gave him the strength needed to continue walking through the streets. At least the truck wasn't shooting at them.

But then they both found themselves taken by surprise when a clicker entered the room. They tried to stay silent, but Sam fell to the floor while trying to escape, giving his position to the clicker immediately: Henry instinctively protected him just as the clicker would go berserk at them, but they both were saved by Ethan, who took down the infected with his revolver. But it wasn't the end; they knew that shots could only mean that more clickers would come looking for preys, and that hunters in the nearby areas would've heard them. The three of them made a quick run through some streets before reaching the ruins of a shop in which they fell to the floor to take a quick break.

"Sam, don't ever do that again… you see a clicker, you shoot the clicker… you don't just stay there waiting for it to bite you," Henry was definitely nervous: it was his little brother after all.

"I know… I know… it's the rule… it's just that…" Sam was also angry, but something didn't come out of his mouth at that moment and Ethan could see what it was.

"Have you ever faced them?" Ethan asked to the boy, "you're afraid of those things… you're scared of them?"

Sam looked at him for a couple of seconds before admitting it. Ethan then explained their common fear, but at the same time he added all his experiences with them; he'd never faced them alone, always with his 'comrades', but he'd keep telling himself that he just couldn't give in to the fear: he'd had to face them. Somehow then, Sam appreciated the little talk: he just had to try to face his fears.

"You're even better than at this kind of things," Henry said, after Ethan's little speech was over, "but, if you don't mind… what happened to you comrades?"

That group was big, but he only remembered Mike, Howard, Pat… even Francis; he hated him. He then noticed that even living that horrible life, he could still remember some happy moments in that place, surrounded by nothing but hunters… and being a hunter. Happy moments that didn't involve killing innocent people.

"They're dead."

"I'm sorry, "Henry answered, looking a bit introspective, "I wouldn't know what to do if someone important to me would end that way," he was referring to Sam, "but we'll get out of this one, I know it, and we'll join the fireflies."

They finally arrived at a theatre in the morning, tired but relieved; they were supposed to regroup at that place. But they couldn't find anyone there, not even bodies. There was nothing that'd tell them something about their friends, nothing at all. Both Henry and Sam realized what that could mean, trying to avoid thinking about the worst case.

"Perhaps they are taking their time," Ethan added, trying to light the mood, "maybe they had to split up again even after leaving you guys… you touristsalways try to survive by splitting up."

Ethan didn't notice anything in that moment, but after realizing how Henry was looking at him he felt what he just had said; it wasn't about the word only, it was the tone, the way of saying it.

"Your… 'friends'… what did they do for living?" the tone wasn't kind, and the expression on his face didn't help either; he was angry. "They were hunters, weren't they? You've killed a lot of innocent people?"

Ethan didn't move, and his five seconds silence was enough to prove him guilty. Henry quickly called Sam and pointed a gun at Ethan.

"It's people like you and your dead friends the ones that right now are trying to kill us!"

Ethan was seeing it: being shot by the person that was supposed to get him to the fireflies. His past unfortunately, couldn't be erased: he had been a hunter, and he had killed innocent people… to 'survive'.

But then Henry lowered the gun, but without erasing his expression of true anger.

"The thing's simple, uh? You were a hunter and now you're the hunted… does it feel bad? Perhaps now you feel what all those people felt before dying in your hands… you know what? Fuck you… die because of the same people as you… I won't waste my bullets with something like you."

He then took Sam by the arm and quickly started to walk away, but the threat was there; if Ethan gave just one step closer to them, he'd be shot right there. He'd been left there to die in the hands of hunters just like him, and the worst thing was that it seemed fair; it seemed fair to die there. Was it fair? It didn't really matter. Probably it was; after all, Henry did the right thing, grabbing Sam. It had happened.

Ethan, killing a boy around the same age as Sam, right after his friends killed his dad in front of him. All because of some cans with food.

He deserved it, even if he regretted doing that like hell, after a horrible crisis.

He deserved it, even if that was the reason why he'd have left his group. He deserved it.