12. A New Connection

[ Meeting 103-4; MacMillan Estate. ]

When Meg opened her eyes, her vision was fuzzy and her whole body ached. Feeling something wonderfully plush beneath her, she slowly and painstakingly rolled over to see that she was laying on a bed.

A bed?

She hadn't seen a single bed in the entirety of the Fog, not even at the campfire; so where the hell did this come from? It seemed poorly-made, as if thrown together from random scavenged items, but it was leagues better than sleeping on the ground. Sitting up, Meg found herself to be in immense pain - and she realized, looking down, that the wounds she'd received hadn't disappeared. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes and she looked up to analyze her surroundings so that she wouldn't have to stare at all the punctures and cuts marring her pale skin. Her breath caught when she saw not one, but two figures slumping against opposing walls right near her little makeshift cot; one was about her size, and the other was enormous. Squinting in the dim light, she noticed one was Jake… and the other was… Evan?

They were both right near her. Both right there; not fighting. Asleep.

What the hell was going on?

Meg's gasp caused one of them to stir; with a low rumble, Evan shifted from the wall and turned his head to watch her. "M-My injuries," she whimpered, shifting in the cot to look back at him. Everything from before came rushing back in a whirlwind; wandering accidentally onto the grounds of Ormond, being tortured by the Legion, and seeing Jake… and Evan. They had saved her.

Evan had saved her. After the look she'd given him, after the way she'd yelled at him…

She blinked back more tears and swallowed the lump in her throat, shifting to lean over toward him - as if being only a couple of feet apart simply wasn't close enough. Strangely enough, despite knowing the whole truth - despite knowing what they'd done in the past - Meg found herself oddly longing for the strength of his embrace and the warmth of his chest. Seeing her shift closer, the killer tensed up, body growing rigid - and his milky white eyes watched her closely. Like a hawk.

It seemed not everything was entirely okay.

"You saved me," Meg whispered, unwilling to wake Jake. "Again."

Evan grunted, his eyes shifting over to the boy against the opposite wall. "He... did."

Meg followed his gaze. "How did he…? Did Jake… find you?"

The killer nodded, eyes never leaving the woodland survivor. "Came to me," he murmured. "Said that… survivors… remembered."

The red-head's eyes widened. "No… everything?"

"Everything."

"So they remembered when you…"

"Yes."

"And is that why Jake came to find you? Why didn't he take - I don't know, David or Adam?"

"Don't know," Evan rumbled. "He came… to me. Told me… you hadn't come back. Said… to help… find you."

Meg's eyes finally shifted back to Evan's masked face and she found her fingers itching to take that damn mask off. She'd somehow grown accustomed to seeing the face underneath; scarred, masculine, strong, sharp. "What color were your eyes?" She blurted.

This seemed to yank his attention away from Jake and he stared at her, obviously confused. The red-head's cheeks flushed with heat as she balked under his gaze. "I-I just… you know. Before all this. What color were they...?"

He was silent for a long time. So long that Meg squirmed and looked away. When she heard his answer it was surprising, yet made perfect sense. "Green," he murmured. "Dark… green. So dark… almost black."

Meg found herself suddenly so desperate to see Evan with dark eyes that she nearly lurched forward to take that mask off in hopes they'd be there - and ended up falling off her cot and groaning in pain. The little commotion startled both Evan and Jake; the survivor blinked sleepily while the killer shifted over to help pluck the red-head off the ground. As Evan grabbed her shoulders and Meg leaned on him to steady herself, she looked up at him and caught his gaze - the two stared at each other just long enough for Jake to notice and narrow his eyes. "So it's true," he said, voice dry. "One hundred percent true."

Meg broke away from Evan, still flushed with embarrassment. "I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered.

"You're falling for a killer, Meg. The Trapper. So what if he saved you a couple of times - do you realize that the scoreboard here isn't exactly even?!"

"Then why did you look for him when I went missing?" She hissed defensively, sharp blue-gray eyes pinning Jake down. "And his name… is Evan."

It was Jake's turn to squirm, and it seemed in his desperate attempt to think up a comeback, all the recent events came back to him and he stared at them both, stunned. "We… Meg, we remember everything," he gasped. "All of us. Every trial."

"Evan told me," she replied, disturbed.

Jake's eyes narrowed. "What else did you two have time to do while I was sleeping?"

"Well he had time to kill us both, but he didn't," Meg countered irritably, gesturing to the hulking man beside her, who began to shift uncomfortably himself. It was unclear whether it was the accusations or the defense on his behalf that he was uncomfortable with. "So maybe open your mind a little bit and -"

"He killed us, Meg! They all did! You can't expect me to -"

"Enough," Evan growled, bringing two sets of eyes over to him. "Meg… your wounds."

Something in the red-head's chest fluttered at the way he said her name - it was something he rarely ever did - but she followed his gaze down her body and noticed several fresh wet spots on her jersey. "They're usually gone by now," she mumbled faintly. Her eyes instinctively roamed the brutish man's body for any injuries and found several spots on his overalls. Suddenly unconcerned about her own, the red-head reached for the buckle on his overalls to undo them and get a better look.

"Ugh," Jake grumbled. "I'll just… be outside if you need me, Meg."

"Mhmm," she hummed in response, too distracted by tending to Evan's wounds to fully reply. She saw several stab wounds, probably desperate attempts from Frank and Joey to bring the giant down before he disposed of them. They still looked fairly fresh - which was concerning. The Entity usually healed wounds quickly, preparing their bodies for a fresh onslaught of torture.

So why weren't theirs gone?

"Your wounds… are worse," Evan argued, trying to pull away from her.

"Shut up, you dumb turtle!" Meg reached for him, thankful for the gauze she had on her jacket pocket. She kept it with her to wrap up her ankles whenever she ran a bit farther than normal, to keep the swelling down. She used some of it to soak up the seeping blood. "Why is it black…?" She questioned, both disgusted and curious at the way it looked so inky in color compared to her own red blood. She also asked the question aloud to keep herself distracted from the fact that she was touching the man's bare body - the man's very strong, very built bare body. He was made like a goddamn brick house and it was hard not to think about the way his muscles jumped and flexed under her touch, or how strong and taut each ridge and curve felt under her fingers. She was suddenly very aware of their close proximity and, despite her own severe injuries, her mind couldn't help but go back to the sexual encounters they'd had during trials, ones she could now remember - and though they had never fully copulated, never even shared a kiss, she could remember the bone-shattering pleasure she'd felt when his proud member slid over her clit, or the squeals that came from her every time he pinched a stiffened nipple or slid his rough hands down her body.

While she remembered the cruel grin under his mask and the way he relished in her confliction and guilt, she also knew it was much more than that. She could now identify the way he always looked at her - he was hungry for her. And she could only just now see it.

But that hunger had always been there.

Meg suddenly realized she hadn't even heard his answer to her question and she blushed hotly, biting on her lip. "I-I erm… what did you say?"

"It is… the Entity's possession," he grunted, tensing up as she began wrapping the wound. Having to put her arms around her body brought Meg even closer to the giant of a man and both of them seemed to have frozen as she tipped her head back to look up at him, feeling the heat of his body against him, sensing the way his hands were clenching at his sides with the effort of not touching her - though whether he wanted to pull her closer or push her away, Meg couldn't tell. The more the red-head gazed up at him, however, the more she suspected it was the latter. He seemed extremely avoidant of her, moreso than usual, and she couldn't figure out why, especially considering the lengths he went to to save her…

She continued wrapping the gauze around his torso, trying not to stare. "Everything is going to be different now," she murmured, thinking back to what he'd told her about the survivors remembering everything. "Do you think…" she paused. "Do you think that the Entity is doing all this on purpose? Do you think that we're going to… to get out of the Fog?"

Evan stiffened. The question seemed surprising to him - as if he'd been pondering the same thing himself. "I… don't know."

The red-head pursed her lips and puffed her cheeks. "You - again with the unsatisfying answers! Can't you give me a conversation you big dumb turtle?!"

The monstrous man's eyes were utterly piercing as he met her gaze, so much so that Meg sucked in a breath and balked under his stare. His hand came up - instinctively she braced herself for pain before reminding herself that this was Evan, not the Trapper - and she glowed with warmth when his large, rough hand met her cheek and caressed the skin in a gesture so tender she would have once believed him incapable of doing. "You," he murmured, voice low and rumbling, "are… important."

Her brows furrowed. Without thinking she reached her hand up, resting it over his own on her cheek. The warmth of his touch was astounding; but still she was able to manage, "y-you mean… to the Entity? Do you think I'm the cause of all this?"

He shook his head, his jaw working behind his mask as if reluctant to admit the real answer. Finally, he growled, "Important… to me."

"B-But… why?" Meg found herself blurting, before clamping her mouth shut and glancing away. Frankly, she found herself thinking of him as extremely important to her as well, and she couldn't for the life of her fathom why - so to demand answers of him was unfair.

But he finally came up with an answer. "The first time… I saw you… you hadn't seen me. You were lost… and confused… but you had… confidence. And you were so… fast. You watched and learned. You are… observant. Smart. And…" he rumbled lowly; as if trying to decide whether to finish the thought. "... beautiful."

Meg tried to blink back the tears threatening to spill over the corners of her eyes and she let out a shaky breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. "That… that might be the most I've ever heard you say," she squeaked, holding back a sniffle and giving him a rueful look.

She saw his lips quirk behind the mask and a low growl came from him; something akin to his attempt at a laugh. It was oddly charming; instinctively Meg leaned her face into his palm and he stiffened up at the gesture. As if he made a mistake and was now regretting his boldness. "We need… to take care of… your injuries," he mumbled, withdrawing his hand.

Meg found herself missing the warmth and gave him a doe-like stare before shifting back, finishing up her work. With that she offered him the gauze and sat back to allow him to tend to her. When he hesitated, she gave him a questioning look. "Your… clothes," he mumbled, looking more embarrassed and human than she'd ever seen him in this hellhole.

It reminded her that… before all this, he was a man. Just a man.

The thought of removing her clothes in front of him made her blush even though he'd already seen her naked on a couple of occasions; it almost felt, however, like that had been in another lifetime and that they were starting over fresh. Shyly, the red-head removes her jacket and then slid her jersey up and off, goosebumps covering her pale skin. When she looked down her mind instantly shifted from embarrassment to horror as she saw just how bad the wounds really were. Adrenaline had been keeping her from screaming in pain, apparently, because multiple stabs and cuts littered her torso like a horrific mural. The Legion had had quite a time with her before Jake and Evan had shown up.

A sharp, angry growl drew her terrified stare from her body and she found Evan's chest heaving in deep, bear-like breaths, his shoulder muscles flexing with fury. The mere sight of him so angry, so angry over her, sent a thrill through her. "It's okay," she reassured, reaching out for his shoulder but stopping just short. Evan set to work, his hands moving with deceptive grace and agility despite how large they were. He was a true hunter, being as gentle and focused with her injuries as he was with his traps. It was exceedingly lucky that she had enough gauze for the both of them; though her wounds still aches and wouldn't get much better without some medicine, the dressing did help.

Thanking him ruefully and tugging her blood-stained jersey back on, Meg tipped her head back to look up at him as she sat across from him; he suddenly avoided looking at her. "You should… speak with… your friend," Evan interrupted quietly as she reached for his mask.

Meg stopped just short of him once more and paused, giving him a wary look. Finally she let it go and got up, leaving the wooden building. As she did, she quickly recognized the place to be the MacMillan estate; she could see the factory building in the distance and the heavy night sky looming over them. Jake sat atop a crate of junk, staring out at the trees encroaching on the property. When Meg approached shakily, he tilted his head at her. "Feeling a little better?" He asked.

"My injuries… they haven't… Jake, something is different."

"You can say that again," he muttered. "That crap that went down in Ormond… I've never heard of anything like it happening in the Fog."

Meg hobbled over and, with his help, sat down on the junk pile beside him. "Yeah, uhm… no offense, but… how the hell did you get away from Julie and Susie?"

"That's their names? Huh. Yeah, it was…" he paused. "Weird." Meg waited for him to continue. Still looking out at the estate, the woodsy survivor swung his legs and took his time explaining.

"Yeah, come and get me!" Jake taunted, even stopping for a moment to smack his own rear for added effect. He could hear the masked killer growling in frustration behind him; another glance back told him that the second female of the motley crew wasn't far behind the first one.

Two of them. He was going up against two of them. And he didn't have a single fucking thing to defend himself.

This wasn't good.

He hoped the Trapper was having better luck; although he was going up against the two males of the group, he was also a seven foot tall monster with a rusty cleaver, so Jake thought the odds were pretty damn fair. As long as he got Meg out of there, that was what was important.

The female Legion caught up to him rather quickly, grabbing him by the back of his jacket as he tried to dart around a tree. "You wanna taunt us, you little shit?" the woman hissed, throwing him backwards to the ground.

Jake hit the dirt with a grunt, glaring up at her and attempting to scramble away. "Yeah. I do. It's pretty fun watching you lose your temper," he growled back, attempting to get to his feet. The woman stomped on his leg with her boot, extracting a low groan from him and effectively keeping him on the ground.

At that point the second girl had caught up to them, bracing her hands on her knees and catching her breath. "How the fuck are you gonna be one of us if a short distance like that puts you out?" the first one growled, keeping her boot firmly on Jake's thigh.

"I-I'm sorry," the second one, the one with the long pink hair, responded nervously, sounding genuinely upset. "I-I just - Frank told me to… uhm…"

"To help?" The first one spat, keeping her knife bared. "Yeah, you're doing great. Why don't you just go back to the lodge and hang yourself from a hook? That would be more 'help' than anything. Cunt."

Jake looked back and forth between the two, a plan quickly formulating in his mind. A desperate one, a foolish one, but a plan nonetheless. Finally he glanced over at the one with the long hair, frowning. "This is a weird friendship," he muttered. "I've never had my friends talk to me like that."

The two women turned to look at him. "Shut up," the first one growled, digging her boot in and causing him to wince. "Or I'll cut your tongue out. And I'll enjoy doing it."

"I'm just saying," Jake grunted, shifting under her weight and focusing on the shy one, "real friends are more encouraging. Why even bother to help them out if they don't appreciate you?"

"T-They're my friends!" the girl protested in a slight whine, clutching at her sleeves unsurely. Her whole posture screamed nervousness, as if she was completely out of her element - and Jake used that to his advantage.

"Are they? Could have fooled me. They don't seem to even want you around." Jake winced again as the first one lowered herself onto him, putting the knife to her throat. His breath hitched and he glanced up at her, trying not to show how truly nervous he was, speaking this time to them both, mustering up all the bravado he could. "This isn't part of the Entity's plan. You saw what happened when the Trapper disobeyed, didn't you? The Entity is gonna punish all of you for getting out of line. You're just as much prisoners here as we are. Why don't you do the smart thing… and just let us go?"

The two women exchanged looks before the one on top of him pressed her blade into the skin, drawing a little blood. "I think you're lying, you fucking twat boy, and now you're gonna die for it."

"W-Wait! Julie!" the second girl protested, grabbing her wrist before she could make the cut. An enraged growl came from the first as her hand was forced back; the second nervously added, "w-what if he's right? We should t-think about this!"

"Fuck off, you mewling little bitch!" the first girl sneered, yanking her hand away.

The killer with the long pink hair grabbed her friend's arm again, suddenly sounding much more angry. "H-He's right," she whined. "You guys never listen to me! About anything! And it always gets us in loads of trouble!"

"Maybe we'd listen to you if you grew a pair of fucking BALLS, Susie!" the first one screeched, yanking away once more and sending the pair into a tumble. Jake used the opportunity to get to his feet just as they did; before the first one could launch herself at him, the second one latched onto her and they began their struggle anew.

Jake hesitated, looking between them; the shy girl with the long hair looked over at him briefly and though she wore a mask to shield her expression, he heard the message loud and clear: 'go.'

He gave her the briefest of nods before running off, hoping against hope that the Trapper was able to save his dear friend.

Meg stared at the ground as Jake finished recounting the tale, her mind going in circles. "I can't believe Susie stood up to Julie like that," she finally said. "You must've really gotten to her. Susie's kind of a wimp."

"I think I can relate, in a way," Jake replied with a far-away look. "Having someone you so badly want to impress that you hide pieces of yourself and do things that repulse you just to please them… she just needs to learn that she doesn't owe them anything. Maybe then she can break away from that vicious cycle. That's eventually what I had to do."

Meg stared at him with raised brows. It was only when he finally met her eyes and blinked in confusion that she spoke. "It's strange to hear you talking about a killer as if they're a real person and not just a monster," she admitted.

"Imagine my shock when I found out you liked the damn Trapper of all people."

"I - I don't -" she stammered, feeling her face flush. "It's… I-It's complicated." She jabbed his shoulder accusingly. "And like I said, his name is Evan."

"Don't you ever wonder what they did before they came here? Why they were chosen to be killers, and not survivors?" Jake countered, swinging his legs. "Like… don't you ever wonder which ones were always bad eggs… and which ones were just… normal people?"

"Well if I've ever seen a bad egg, it's gotta be the Shape," Meg said with a small shudder. "I looked right into that mask on so many occasions… even as I died… and I saw nothing. Like he was a… soulless husk."

Jake was silent for a long moment. "The Wraith has never looked angry to me," he began. "Like when I look at him… I see… sadness behind his eyes. Like he feels as trapped here as we do. I guess I've just never thought about it before, because I was so focused on just - surviving."

"We've been blinded to a lot of things in this world," Meg said grimly, hands suddenly clenching hard on the ledge of the pallet they sat on. "The Entity did this. And now my wounds - and Evan's wounds - aren't healing. Something is going horribly wrong."

Jake's gloved hand suddenly came up to his throat, brushing over the clean skin absent-mindedly. "Funny… The one named Julie cut me a little when she climbed on top of me… and it's gone. Just like all the other injuries." He lowered his hand, glancing at Meg with piercing dark eyes. "Looks like the Entity's got it out for you. Makes sense… since you're the ones who've started this entire collapse."

Meg set a hand on her aching abdomen, pain gnawing at her in a constant dull throb. "This is the beginning of something entirely new, isn't it?" she whispered, leaning on her friend.

Jake settled an arm around her. "Maybe it's the beginning of the end."