25. Forever & Always

Evan had barely exited the circus area when Meg's friend came racing past - no, at him. For a split second Evan wondered what the hell she could want from him, but no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the girl grabbed his arm and moved behind him like a shield. Confusion lingered as he glanced down and back at her.

He saw the fear on Claudette's face and the object of her fear quickly came into view, holding a knife. The girl from the Legion skidded to a halt when she caught sight of Evan's hulking form. "Using dumb, murderous brutes to hide now, little girl? I knew you were Special Ed, but I didn't know you were a fucking coward, too."

Evan's lip curled angrily. The Legion was nothing but a bunch of snotty young people that loved to cause misery. The only one with any redeeming qualities was perhaps the awkward girl with the strange hair. Certainly not this one. Glancing back at Claudette once more, he found her looking not at the other girl, but at him. Silently wondering what he would do; if he would give her up or help her.

He was no hero. He cared only for Meg. What did it matter if this girl died?

Milky eyes shifted back to the Legion girl. "Shall I… replay… what I did… to your Leader…?"

The girl stiffened, lowering her knife. "Oh please. You're no hero. You're just the Entity's main freakshow, you big fucking ogre."

Her words were filled with threats, but her body language spoke fear. Evan was undeterred by the insults. "Go ahead," he rasped. "Take her… and see what… I do… when you… come near me."

The Legion girl scoffed, eyeing him; Evan had to applaud her sheer stupidity for considering for even a moment that she could take him on alone. Finally she turned and stalked off, leaving Evan alone with Claudette. He turned around to face her, looking down at her with a stony expression. "Why…?" he questioned.

Despite the look on his face, the girl seemed to be nothing but grateful. "I-I know that a lot of stuff has happened lately… and I know you've done some things that would be considered bad… but… I-I don't know," she admitted with a shrug and a rueful smile. "I see auras. I'm not so great with body language… or having a conversation… but I see people's auras around them. Some people have a red angry aura… or a calm purple one… or an evil black one."

Evan tilted his head. When she didn't answer, he prompted, "mine…?"

Claudette smiled, seeming embarrassed. "Y-Yours is green. Like the earth... like mine."

Evan felt something in his chest tighten. For a brief moment he thought that this girl looked at him in a similar way to Meg; but he quickly dismissed that. This girl wasn't like Meg. Meg was fiery, feisty, vibrant, energetic, full of life; this girl was kind. Soft. Open, and accepting.

He decided that he'd made the right decision in choosing to help her. And he'd help her again, now. "Come with me," he rumbled, gesturing with a hand. "Where… are the others? Who are… trying to… help… Meg?"

"Do you mean Quentin and Cheryl…?" Claudette tapped her chin as she walked along beside him. "Uhm, I-I'm not entirely sure, but considering Cheryl is from that school… I would guess they're going there… or already did go there." When Evan quickened his pace, Claudette hurried along beside him. "You want to go help them, don't you?"

"Yes." His expression was grim. "Let's hope… we can… make it there."

"Y-Yeah… the maps have been going crazy lately," Claudette murmured. She kept a constant eye out for danger, even more so than Evan himself, but he supposed that was a learned behavior from being here in the Fog for so long - a place where danger lurked around every corner. As they made their way toward one of the exit gates to try and find their way to Midwich Elementary, Claudette suddenly screamed and Evan halted in his steps to look back...

… to find the girl hanging by one hand, in one of the Entity's portals. She screamed again, fear evident in her eyes as she struggled to hang on, her feet dangling in the darkness. Evan quickly crouched, extending his arm to grab hers. As he was about to pull her up, she glanced down. "Wait!" she called.

He hesitated, brows furrowing. When Claudette looked back up at him, her expression changed. "I-I think it's… the school?" She took another glance down. "D-Drop me!"

Evan squinted. He couldn't see anything but a black abyss down below, and if he allowed Meg's friend to die, he was pretty sure she would never forgive him. She would hate him even more than she already did… the thought caused his grip on Claudette to tighten as he began pulling her up. Claudette's pitch rose. "T-Trust me!"

Those two words were hard to say, and even harder to hear. He had no reason to trust her or be trusted by her. Meg's face flashed across his mind and he grimaced, coming to a decision.

Evan tugged her upward by the arm just enough to wrap his arms around her securely, then he launched them both into the portal.

The trail was easy to see, now. The sinner would soon be punished for his crimes, sent to eternal hell. Where he belonged.

G̴̻̫̳̃̎́͑̽ȯ̸͚̹͔͓̯̘͍̔̏͑̾̔͛͘͠.̵̰͎͕̩̠̻̫͂̂͑̈́̓͂͛̕̚͜ ̵̢̧̤͙̯̬͕̠́̓̈́̈́̈́͛͊P̸̡̝͂̈́̂̋͝ụ̸̡͉̳̣̳͂̔n̸̮̻̫̟̰̦̅̍̎̏ì̷̧͔͈̳̮͈͕̦̯̾̾̈̎̓̚̕ś̴͕͍͕̖̉͋͂̔͆h̷̗͖̹̯̯̃̄̒.̷͇̱̙̄̏̓͒̀̾̏͆͂͝ ̵̦̬͕̟̪̪̗͎͂E̵̢̪̞̫̤̿̆͠ͅẍ̶̞̹͎̦̦͚͕̣́̂̔̒̀̃͂̓̆̓e̵͚͂͊c̷̺̼̯̹̟̬̺͙̾͋͒͑̌ų̷͚̟̖̪͈͋̂̈́͂͂͋̃̋̚ţ̸̨̜̝̃̀̈́e̶̡̯̳̩̅̒̀.̶̧̰̬̩͕̦̘̝͍͋̈̎̌͑

The Pyramid head may not have had eyes, but he saw in other ways. He had other senses to guide him along, and they ushered him now downstairs and into a classroom, his knife leaving a trail of torment behind him. He did not remember the name of the sinner, nor did he need to; he only needed to find him, and rip him limb from limb. Slow torture worthy of a disgusting flesh bag who'd committed heinous acts.

But, it seemed, he did not need to find the sinner. The sinner came to him, ready and eager. His voice was raspy, distorted as he taunted the Executioner. "That's a big knife, heheheh… you compensating for something…?"

The Pyramid Head only moved forward, dragging the blade behind him and preparing to swing. The sinner was small and had next to no muscle, but he was lithe, able to duck under the Great Knife and use the claws on his hand to rend flesh. Pyramid Head's side was bleeding profusely, but he did not focus on the pain. He only focused on his duty… and the pleasure he would derive from doing it.

"Say… know where I can find the kids…?" The scarred sinner looked back at him as Pyramid Head turned to face him. "I've got a score to settle with the boy… and I just wanna play with the girl, heheh…"

At this, the Executioner let out a low, dangerous rumble; a threat. He had no duty to protect the innocent, but the girl freed him from the possession of the spidery deity who'd latched onto him, and that had created a bond between him and the girl - and by extension, the boy, too. He didn't pretend to dwell on the whys or hows - only that this was his current reality, and he would do his duty until he arrived back in Silent Hill - his prison, of which he was the warden, the jailer, the executioner, and the prisoner.

The sinner chuckled under his breath. "Did I find your sore spot…? Don't worry… I'll take real… good... care of her."

The speed with which the Executioner launched himself at the scarred man was remarkable. He swung the Great Knife with reckless abandon, ignoring any injuries he sustained in return, and though the sinner was able to dodge quite a few of them, he'd gotten chopped in the side and in the thigh while trying to put some space in between them. The sinner hobbled away, and for the first time since their fight began, the Executioner could see something else on his face: fear. He continued giving chase, a rumble sounding deep in his chest.

The sinner's fate was sealed when he tripped due to the injury in his leg. As the scarred killer sprawled on the floor, Pyramid Head moved in before he could scramble to his feet. Lifting the Great Knife, he pierced him right through the middle… and he was sent to a metal cage on a nearby wall, spread eagle on display.

Pyramid Head made his way over to the sinner, dragging his blade behind him; and he stood there, simply watching quietly as the cage began to close in on him - sharp points on the inside of the bars began slowly penetrating the man's flesh from every angle, sparing no part of him from the pain. How did it feel, he wondered? Was any punishment ever sufficient for such heinous crimes? It didn't matter. The Red Pyramid was fulfilling his purpose. Only one thought occurred to him.

Ỳ̸̨̦͆̆̓̋͆̐̚ơ̶̛̪ű̴͔̘͉̣̮̯͜.̶̨̧̦͇͓͔͎͙͆͆͒͑͋͂̽͐̆͘.̵̨̜̯͓́̽̇̀.̸̛̭̮̟̥͛̉̄̓́̓ͅ ̶̡̨̮̹̥͇̟̔̀̎̑̓̔͂̕s̵͕̹̝̣̯̉̑̂̓ẖ̵̅å̵̢̞̱͉l̷͚͙̀̄̂̾͂̾͐̀́̂l̴̨̨̙̰͍͋̉̾͛̓͂̄͐̋.̴̨̛̲̯̯̙̎̎͂̄͜.̵̰̇̇̏̓̍̒̓̑́͜.̵̤͍͂͌͘ ̸̧͖̠̯̮̞̎́̋̃̾̈́̋́͘͝r̷̢̠̹̃̉̆̈̓͜ͅè̸͍̝͈̚c̶̛̼͕ę̷̡̝͖̱̜̞̺̈́̔̀i̷͉͔̗͖̖͇͐́̀̋̈́͛v̶̟̜̬̱̕̚ë̸̢̺̞̲̰͚́̓.̵̯̭̲͔͎̘͉͗̑͐͛͋̀̀̎͘.̴̬̹̩̠͌͘.̸̥̹͐̓͗̏́̊̽̇́͝ ̵̡̝͙͍̯̠͔̻̩̈͑̓̏ḓ̸̫́͒̓̋̆̐̉ȩ̶̧̏̂̀̉̈́͋͒͊͝a̸̠͍̖̚͝t̵̢̤̒͐͂̀̾̎͛͆͗͜h̶̻̜̬̺͇̋̓̌̚.̷̧̻̻̈͆̀̆͆̊͛̾̒͘

The scarred man's death would be slow and agonizing, and the Executioner would watch and savor every second of it.

Evan's back spasmed when it hit the hard floor of Midwich Elementary. It was then that he knew for sure that the Clown's potions were still having an extended effect on him. His muscles screamed and his vision blurred for a moment before he was able to shake it off and let go of the girl on top of him. Claudette lifted her head, before giving him a rueful smile. "T-Thanks."

He grunted. The pair clambered to their feet and Evan took one step before dizziness took over. He reached out to brace against the wall for support, but Claudette slung an arm around his middle to help out. "Don't… need your… help," he grumbled, but she stuck annoyingly by his side anyways.

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "B-Besides… I'm gonna need your help if there are any of the bad guys lurking around…"

Claudette's sentence was seemingly innocent, but the phrasing of it struck Evan like a blow to the chest. Bad guys.

As if he wasn't one of them.

"Meg…" he blurted, causing Claudette to peer up at him curiously as they walked.

"What about her?"

"She… still thinks… I…"

Claudette tilted her head, confused. Evan grumbled. The girl wasn't kidding when she said she wasn't good with conversation or perception. "She thinks… I… betrayed her. All of... you."

Claudette opened her mouth to respond when the pair rounded a corner and stopped short when they saw what - or who - was up ahead. Claudette sucked in a breath and clung a little tighter to his side, causing Evan to narrow his eyes on her irritably before looking at the scene ahead of them.

In the hallway was the pyramid killer; but he wasn't looking at them, and possibly didn't know or didn't care that they were even there. No, it was fixated on something on the wall; and upon a little closer inspection Evan saw the small, wrinkly child molester in a metal cage. He was naked, bleeding from every pore, with giant gashes in his leg, shoulder, and neck presumably made by the pyramid killer's weapon. Furthermore… the pedophile's crotch was a bloody, torn mess. As if his genitals had been ripped off by hand.

The sight, Evan had to admit, was immensely satisfying in the worst way.

He didn't break his gaze away from the scene as Claudette turned away to vomit all over the floor behind them. "D-Disgusting," she cried.

"He… deserves… it."

Claudette's voice was a whimper. "D-Does anyone really deserve that…?"

Evan's mouth pressed into a thin line. "He… does."

Before the pyramid killer could take notice of them, Evan turned away and began going the opposite direction, Claudette still close by his side; so close, in fact, that he could feel her trembling. The sight had really shaken her. And that was saying something, considering they'd all been in the Fog for quite some time and had certainly seen all the creative ways someone could be killed.

His thoughts of their time in the Fog led Evan to wonder what he would do once he got back to the regular world. Would he restart the family business? No; he didn't think he could bear to really step foot on the MacMillan Estate ever again. Not with the memories of his father lingering in the back of his mind.

But if he didn't do that… What would he do?

His thoughts dwelled on that decision; mulling over what he would pursue once back in the real world… or whether he deserved to go back at all.

Quentin watched in awe as magic seemed to spout from Cheryl's hands. The ritual circle in the middle of the courtyard certainly had an effect on her powers; because he could see the black portals the Entity used beginning to open up before their very eyes. It had taken her a bit to access the power, and a part of him wondered why she couldn't do this all the times they'd been through the courtyard during trials. But that was easily explained away. The Entity had been all-powerful before… and now, it was more vulnerable and weak than it had ever been. The way their surroundings flickered and he could see ghostly apparitions of other realms blinking in and out was proof of that. He looked between Cheryl and Tapp, who'd remained mostly silent the entire time even after Quentin had explained their situation. Quentin wasn't entirely sure the man had truly heard him or if he was in his own world again.

"So when you open it up and we see Meg… Tapp and I reach in and pull her out, right?"

Cheryl grunted. Sweat dripped down her forehead and her hair clung to her pasty skin as she focused all of her effort on opening up a wide enough space to pull Meg through. "That's… even if I can… find her!" she growled, straining as her hands pressed against the changing ground.

The arrival of two others drew Quentin's attention away from the two survivors at his side and he squinted at the figure of the Trapper closing in. Fear palpitated his chest and he fought the urge to run. Though it was ages ago, the memory of his own death was still fresh in the teen's mind. A gruesome death at the hands of the very killer lumbering toward them.

But seeing Claudette safe at the killer's side quelled a little of the panic and Quentin settled for balling his hands into tight fists, not moving but on edge as they approached. "Here to help?" he asked tightly, keeping his gaze on Claudette. Because he feared if he looked right at the Trapper's face... he would lose the little resolve he had left.

"Quentin! Cheryl! M-Mister Tapp!" Claudette greeted, looking relieved. Leaving the Trapper's side, she gave Quentin a hug and a big smile. "I-It's so good to see you all safe… I-I think all the other pieces are in place… what can we do to help?"

Quentin glanced over at Cheryl. The force of the magic she was using was beginning to create a vacuum through the portal, sending strong winds gushing out and blowing all their hair back. Everyone except Cheryl stumbled back as the ground began to rumble, the portal finally beginning to open up into something other than flat blackness. But with the exertion came pain; Cheryl began yelling, eyes squeezing shut but unyielding as she continued to push. "Cheryl!" Quentin yelled, but the winds were becoming so strong that he was unable to get close enough to help her. He saw two figures beginning to push toward them, moving against the wind with slow and careful steps; both of them huge and imposing. One was the Trapper… and the other was Pyramid Head, as if he had received some psychic signal and came to protect her. As they grew ever closer, the portal began widening. "She's here!" Cheryl yelled over the winds, trying to bite back her cries of pain. Quentin could vaguely see her hands, red and bloody, the extreme pressure from the flowing magic causing her skin to be practically shredded. Quentin tried to move forward to retrieve Meg, but he simply couldn't get close to the portal.

But the killers could. The Pyramid Head, as if sensing exactly what to do, used his Great Knife to help hold the portal open; Cheryl's strength was failing, quickly, and they only had seconds before it would become too much and Meg could be lost, possibly forever. The Trapper seemed to sense this as well, because he launched himself forward, front end hanging down through the portal, reaching. If the portal closed while he was in it, he would be sliced in half… but he didn't seem to care about that at all. Quentin knew then and there that while he'd never forgive the killer for what he'd done, and while he'd never, ever trust him… he knew that the Trapper did truly care for Meg - so much so that he was willing to sacrifice himself for her.

Suddenly, the excess flow of magic erupted in an explosion that sent everyone flying back against the walls of the courtyard. Quentin's back hit the wall, hard, and his vision went black.

The moment the girl's magic began to run rampant and out of control, Evan knew he had to step in. The winds became so fierce that the survivors didn't stand a chance against them, and it was up to him and that pyramid thing to help.

If it would save Meg, he would do it.

Battling the wind and debris every step of the way, Evan threw himself forward to the opened portal, hanging down into it. There he saw Meg, screaming for her friends - and she froze when she saw him. "Evan?!" She yelled over the howling gusts, looking terrified.

He reached a hand out to her.

It all happened in a few seconds, but in his mind's eye Evan witnessed each micro moment in clear detail. Meg's face displayed about a million conflicting emotions, tears brimming in the corners of her lovely blue eyes; then she pursed her lips, and took his hand.

He felt the portal closing around him, but his priority was Meg. It had been for a long time. His right arm pulled her up and flung her out of the portal as it closed up, the resulting explosion throwing his body backwards.

And cutting his left arm clean off below the elbow.

The pain was blinding. As soon as his body landed on the ground, Evan lost consciousness.

When Quentin opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the backside of the Executioner… and Cheryl, unconscious, her cheek bouncing against the killer's back. Alarm was his first emotion, followed quickly by disbelief, relief, and bitter humor. This is not a position I ever thought I'd find myself in.

The creature seemed to sense his conscious state, whether from the minute movements of his body or by the red string connecting them, he didn't know. He was dropped to the ground with a painful thud and, as Quentin got to his feet, he found that his back ached but he was otherwise relatively okay. Taking stock of his surroundings, it looked like they were in the middle of the woods, possibly heading to the campfire.

"Y-you're awake!" Quentin turned to see Claudette practically sagging in relief. Next to her he saw Tapp, shuffling along and clutching his ribs; on her other side the Hillbilly dragging an unconscious Trapper behind him… and the Trapper was missing an arm. Jake was carrying Meg on his back nearby as well.

Meg.

It worked?

"What… happened?" Quentin murmured, still dazed.

"I think I took the least damage, because I woke up first," Claudette explained softly. "The big pyramid creature was standing over Cheryl… and you all were badly injured. I-I… I had to go get help. Max came, and Jake insisted on helping too… but…" Claudette's expression brightened. "W-We saved her, Quentin!"

"This fight isn't over," Jake cut in grimly. Then he softened. "But yeah. She is safe. And we have all of you to thank for that."

Quentin approached Jake, who carried Meg securely on his back. He peered at the unconscious red-head, a slow smile curling his lips. "How is everyone else?" He asked.

Jake's expression grew dark. "We… lost a lot of people."

Quentin felt his heart drop into his stomach. "W… Who?"

Jake looked away and pressed his lips into a thin line, extremely reluctant to answer. It was clear from the pain on his face that plenty of their friends had lost their lives. When Jake did speak, his voice cracked. "Zarina… Jane… Adam… Steve… Feng… Laurie… a-and… Kate."

Quentin felt the air rush from his lungs and he couldn't seem to get any more back in no matter how he tried. His stomach turned. His vision blurred. He'd been so busy lately helping Cheryl save Meg that while he'd thought of Kate often, he hadn't checked in on her. He'd known that killers and survivors could be… well, killed now, but he'd just assumed…

"K-Kate?"

Jake grimaced. "... I'm sorry, Quentin. Ace was there when it happened. He's… he's torn up about it, too."

More pain. Quentin knew how close Ace was to her, too, and he could only imagine what it had felt like, seeing her die. Tears blurred the corners of his vision but he blinked them back, trying to be strong. Compassion was the source of Quentin's strength and willpower, but also his weakness. He would run into the depths of hell for his friends, but moving on from their losses would be crippling.

"Kate… she… she'd sing to me, some nights." Quentin's voice quivered. "When I couldn't sleep. If she was awake, she'd sing to me. Those were the only times I could sleep."

Claudette put a hand on Quentin's arm, giving it a small squeeze. "We have to keep moving," Jake said, not unkindly. "We're headed to the campfire. Can you walk, Quentin?"

Quentin nodded, still unable to speak. He felt that if he tried, the lump in his throat would choke him to death. The group began moving, and they trudged in silence for a long while, the scenery never changing - just dark, endless trees. Finally they saw a bright light and they knew it was the campfire. The closer they got, the more clearly they could see the group around it.

And frankly, if a few months ago Quentin would have been told he'd see a scene like this, he would have laughed.

Yui sat by the Oni in one corner, patching him up and scolding him when he roared in pain or complained. She was covered in bandages herself, poorly wrapped. It was clear the Oni attempted to doctor her. The sight was almost laughable. Just as strange was both Nea and the Wraith being patched up by the Nurse, with a string connecting all three of them. The other remaining survivors were either using med-kits to tend to their wounds or huddling together for comfort.

And Ace sat near Kate's tent, alone and looking dead.

Quentin went over to the man, sitting down silently next to him. They'd never been super close, but he certainly had a bond with the man now, even if it had happened under tragic circumstances. Ace said nothing; only held a flashlight with a little pink flower drawn onto it. Quentin recognized it as one of Kate's favorite flashlights. She rarely ever took it into trials because she was afraid of losing it. How ironic that it lost her, instead.

"She'd want you to keep it," Quentin said quietly, gesturing to the flashlight.

Ace grunted, turning it over slowly in his hands. Silence reigned between them for a moment and as Quentin lifted his gaze to finish analyzing the campfire scene, he noticed something new. After Jake laid Meg down carefully on some blankets near the fire, he sat down by Meg and was joined by someone Quentin - at first - didn't recognize. But he quickly realized it was the girl from the Legion… the awkward one… and she and Jake shared a red string. Quentin noticed the way Jake looked at her and talked to her, and the way she responded. They liked each other, a lot, even if Jake would never admit it in a million years.

A sound next to him drew Quentin's attention back to the man beside him and the full force of Kate's death hit him like a blow to the stomach once more. Quentin blinked back tears and hung his head. "What was that nickname she liked to call everyone?" he whispered. He knew it, but he wanted to give Ace - and himself - something to focus on other than the pain of her loss.

"Sugar," Ace croaked.

"Do you remember the time she practically lectured the Cannibal for stepping on her toes and smearing dirt on her boots?"

Ace's chuckle was broken. "He had 'er cornered, that mallet raised, and all she could do was fuss at him like a mother hen for ruining her favorite shoes."

Quentin cracked a smile and a bitter laugh bubbled up in his throat. "Didn't he leave her alone for the rest of that match?"

"Might've been the first time I was more scared of a survivor than a killer," Ace replied. Quentin's brows rose when he saw another red string join the multitude of them around the campfire; except this one connected him to Ace.

When Meg opened her eyes, she was warmed by the glow of the nearby campfire and comforted by the mass of blankets surrounding her. She was contentedly drowsy for a few moments before all of her faculties came back to her and she remembered it all. Everything.

She sat up quickly, shocked by the intensity of the pain in her back, then hunched and bit down on her lip to keep from screaming, or crying, or laughing, or all three. She was out of the Entity's clutches, and her friends had come through in saving her.

But it wasn't her friends who'd reached through the portal, was it? It had been…

Meg swallowed down the lump in her throat and refused to think about it any further. And she didn't have to, because she felt multiple arms surround her, drawing her into a group hug. She wasn't sure she'd ever witnessed such camaraderie around the campfire before, and the mere gesture seemed to make the pain recede. She brought her hands up, gripping onto the first arms she could find. After a few moments, the others drew back and she found Claudette, Jake, Quentin, and Dwight all peering at her, looking relieved. "How?" Meg finally asked, her voice quivering.

"Long story," Jake said dismissively, "but Quentin and Cheryl are the real heroes. They're the ones that got you back."

Quentin's face flushed. "No... Cheryl did the work. I was just moral support." His eyes glowed. "But we're all so happy you're okay. You started all this, Meg. The revolution. The Entity's fall. The chaos in the Fog. You're the catalyst. You and…"

Meg's breath hitched. She had a strong feeling that was true… and she also remembered seeing Evan reach for her. He was the one who'd pulled her out, right? Or had that just been another part of her crazy fever dream while under the Entity's capture?

No. It was real. She still felt his hand grasping her arm, firm and safe and reassuring. But the last she'd seen him, he'd chosen his side. He'd chosen to serve the Entity, and he'd let Nea be brutally murdered. The confusion caused a splitting headache and Meg had to shake herself out of it, averting her gaze from the friends around her. Her eyes landed on Evan's body lying on the other side of the fire, and for a brief moment she felt like she couldn't breathe. Was he…

"Is he…?" she found herself whispering, voice trembling.

Jake followed her eyes. "No," he replied, voice dark. "He's not dead."

Meg finally dragged her eyes away from the body and she met Jake's gaze. "He pulled me out, didn't he?"

Jake scowled. "Yeah. He did."

"So he…?"

Jake looked away. Meg turned her attention to Quentin, her eyes beseeching. "Quentin, what happened while I was trapped?"

Quentin's smile faded. Though he didn't look angry, he did look reluctant to answer. And Meg remembered why. She hadn't forgotten all the cruelties the survivors had faced here. The gruesome deaths. The torture. The mental and emotional agony. Quentin had died a brutal death at the hands of Evan - no, the Trapper - and she didn't blame him for being unable to forgive and forget. She would never expect him to. In fact, she expected him to ignore her pleas, too.

But Quentin sighed, and looked at the ground. His gaze was soft. As he began explaining everything that had happened - Evan changing his mind and going on a rampage, the survivors and other killers helping him take out the killers that were still loyal to the Entity, and joining them all to help him and Cheryl open the portal to rescue her - Meg's eyes widened more and more. It was a lot to take in, and the news of the deaths of so many… permanent deaths… it hit her hard. Tears came unbidden and she buried her face in her hands, crying for her friends. Crying for those that would never make it home. She felt hands on her shoulders and back and the small group remained silent, all of them grieving for the people they'd never see again.

Evan was back at the MacMillan Estate, but it wasn't the Entity's mockery of the place; no, it was clean and lived-in and restored to all its former glory. On the opposite side of the Estate, far from all the mining supplies and caves, the gardens flourished. Flowers, vegetables and fruits of all kinds were in full bloom and bees were buzzing around, spreading pollen in the sweet midday sun.

Evan couldn't remember ever having such a nice dream. Any dream he'd ever had, if any, was a nightmare. That was why sleep came so reluctantly. Because if his eyes closed, he saw his father.

Not this time. This time, he saw a slender figure crouched in the midst of all the greenery, tending to a green bean plant and plucking the full pods from the leaves. He recognized the woman instantly, but he remained speechless as he shuffled stiffly forward. He hadn't seen this woman in a long time, hadn't even dreamed of her, and yet here she was.

"Mother?" he questioned, finally able to unstick his dry tongue from the roof of his mouth.

Her sun hat cast her face in shadows as she turned to look at him, but he could still see the smile on her lips and the sparkle in her blue eyes. She looked tired - miserable from living a life with his father - but she still smiled for Evan. Hid the pain to try and brighten his day, just a little bit. Her long, blonde hair hung in a braid down her back and the blue dress she wore was old and tattered, but still beautiful.

She was just as he remembered her.

"Evan," she said sweetly. "You're so big and strong."

He hesitated. Evan wasn't sure how to feel or how to react. He'd never had a dream like this before. Was it truly the first good dream of his life, or was it just the prelude to something even more horrific? When his mother waved him over to her, his feet were stuck in their spot for a moment, feeling like lead. Finally he forced himself to move and shuffled over to her, plopping down on his knees. His hands began doing the work before his mind even fully processed what was happening; it was instinctual, the gardening. And it was one of the only decent memories he had of his entire childhood. He began plucking green beans from the vines on which they grew, focusing on the task and avoiding looking at the woman beside him. "I always hoped you wouldn't turn out like your father," his mother said as she returned to her work as well. "I'm glad you didn't."

Evan's eyes hardened. "I did."

She only chuckled a little, earning a scowl from him. "If you think you're anything like Archie MacMillan, then you might not be as bright as I'd hoped." Evan threw the green beans in the basket with more force than necessary. "You did inherit his temper, though," his mother commented, amused.

"Why are you here?" he suddenly demanded. "Why am I dreaming of you now? I never have before."

"Maybe you didn't have the capacity to before." His mother shifted a little to tend to one of her flowers; Evan's eyes darted up from his own work when he noticed what kind they were.

Tiger lilies.

His mother's favorite, and they were his favorite as a child, too. Meg's hair had always reminded him of them. Perhaps it was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place.

Meg…

"I have to see Meg," he said suddenly.

His mother looked over at him, curious. "Meg? Your girlfriend?"

"No," Evan growled.

His mother's smile faded for the first time since he'd arrived. "There is nothing wrong with loving someone, Evan. I know what your father always told you. But love does not make you weak." She looked down at the fresh-cut lily in her hands. "Your father never knew love, and he was one of the weakest men I've ever known."

"He was not weak," Evan hissed before going quiet, stunned by how quickly he jumped to his father's defense even now. He sat back on his haunches, feeling small despite towering over his mother even while sitting.

"I hate all the things he did to you." His mother sat back too, turning her head to look him in the eye. Evan balked under her intense stare. "But love is not weakness. Love is a source of strength. Mercy is knowing you have power over someone, and choosing to spare them. Compassion gives you greater understanding. You have tasted love, Evan, and you fight it because you think it's made you weak."

She reached up and caressed his cheek, causing him to flinch. "But my son, you've never been stronger."

Finally Meg composed herself and wiped her tears, questions still gnawing at the back of her mind. Quentin had explained what all had happened, all of the things Evan had done to help the survivors and save her from the Entity; but what she still didn't understand was why. He'd made his choice. She remembered all too well the last thing she'd said to him before she was taken: "If you think that my life is worth more than our freedom, then you're more of a monster than I ever imagined."

Meg still wasn't sure how she felt about everything, despite knowing Evan had changed his mind and rejoined the survivors, but she did know one thing: she needed to talk to him. To finally get some answers out of the stubborn, lock-jawed brute. And then maybe she could fully focus on taking down the Entity once and for all and getting all of them out of this damned place.

The others dispersed to their own groups for the most part as Meg slowly got to her feet and wobbled in place. She was still very weak and her back spasmed with each step, but things could be worse. She could be dead. Seeing Meg's attention on Evan, Claudette, who'd stuck around, said, "I-I did what I could. He should be okay, I think. I-I really tried my best… it was the least I could do… since he saved me."

Meg looked over at her friend, shocked. "Saved you?"

"From the Legion," Claudette confirmed happily with a nod. "And then again from the Entity."

Meg swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Shuffling over to Evan's massive body on the other side of the campfire, she knelt by him and her eyes widened at what she saw.

He was maskless (and shirtless too, as it seemed his overalls had been ripped) and injured, with multiple bruises and cuts littering his already marred body, probably from all the fights Jake had briefly mentioned during Quentin's recap. Evan had taken on not only Ghostface and the Legion, but the Doctor and the Clown, too. They were all dead because of him. Meg's eyes traveled to his left side.

He was missing an arm.

"When did this happen?" she questioned, voice barely above a whisper as her fingers ghosted over his left shoulder.

The touch, though feather-light, was enough to stir him. Meg's gaze flickered to his bare face and she found her eyes roving each inch of it, drinking him in. Even scarred and mutilated by the Entity, Evan still held traces of his former looks, and Meg didn't think she'd ever be able to stop looking at him again. The horrible things he'd done faded to the back of her mind as she watched him - until his eyes fluttered open, clearing slowly and then shifting to look at her.

Was it just her imagination, or did the milky hues have a hint of green in them, now?

"Mother," he mumbled, dazed.

Meg's brows furrowed. Though he looked at her, he didn't see her. Wherever he'd been while he was unconscious, he was still there. "Evan," she murmured, reaching a hand up to touch his cheek.

He fully came to. The moment his eyes cleared, they filled with guilt. A myriad of emotions crossed his normally stoic face and he laid there for a long moment, just staring at her silently. Meg finally broke the silence, her voice quiet. "You saved Claudette?"

His gaze shifted away and he didn't answer, as if her question had been accusatory. Evan finally sat up and grunted, his expression hardening against the pain. Meg watched as he looked down at his left arm - which now ended just below his elbow - and the realization hit him. "What happened to it?" She asked.

"The portal… it closed," he murmured.

"You mean when you pulled me out?" Meg's brows furrowed. "It could have cut you in half!"

"I had to," he said defensively.

"Why are you such a dumb turtle?! You could have killed yourself!"

Evan's expression softened slightly and she thought she saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "It would have… been worth it… Little Rabbit."

Meg's face warmed and she couldn't help the small smile that curled her lips. "Can we talk?" She asked softly.

Evan grunted. Meg glanced over at all the others around the campsite. They were all absorbed in their own activities and conversations, but Meg still didn't feel like she had the privacy she wanted. Her eyes flickered over to her tent but she dismissed the idea immediately. Evan was far too massive to fit in that thing. Another idea came to her mind and she grabbed a med-kit from the stockpile and offered a hand to him.

He stared at the hand. It was almost laughable, her offering to pick him up. The realization made her cheeks flush but she wasn't going to rescind the offer now. Evan took the hand and used his leg muscles to help pick himself up off the ground. Immediately he hunched over in pain and Meg wrapped an arm around his middle to support him. "I've got you," she whispered. "I've got you."

Meg still had conflicting emotions bouncing around in her mind. That much was true. But as she began ushering Evan away from the campfire and into the woods, she felt nothing but compassion.

Jake watched Meg interact with the Trapper from the other side of the large bonfire. On the one hand, he was happy that his friend had been returned to them - and he couldn't deny that the hulking killer had played a large part in it. On the other hand… he still couldn't forgive the guy for all the shit he'd done, not only to them but tons of other innocent people. So how could Meg? How could she look at him with such admiration in her eyes? Did she not feel guilt for loving a person who'd done such despicable things?

Susie came to sit down next to him, crossing her legs and putting her hands in her lap. She followed Jake's gaze and understanding crossed her face. "I-I don't know what it's like to be in your shoes," she admitted quietly. "I've always been on the other side of that line."

"I doubt that." Jake finally tore his eyes from Meg, who seemed to be helping the Trapper to his feet and leading him into the woods. He was loathe to let her out of his sight, but he knew that regardless of the hulking killer's past or present, he would never let Meg get hurt again. If he was willing to lose an arm and even die for her, then Jake could trust him, at least, with her safety. He focused on Susie instead and when he met her eyes, he found that his concerns for Meg drifted to the back of his mind. His lips quirked. "Before you found those 'friends' of yours, I'm willing to bet you were a pretty decent person."

Susie's face flushed and she shrugged. "I don't know. I've always felt different. I got bullied a lot in school. They were the first people to even pretend to like me… so I guess I latched on. But you… you're more than decent."

Jake felt heat rise to his cheeks. He didn't know how to respond to such a compliment, so instead he changed the subject. "So you don't know who the Hulk is, huh?"

Susie squinted. Her embarrassed silence gave Jake his answer. "Well," he explained, "he's a comic book hero. Well, most of the time. Sometimes he loses control and becomes the villain. He's this scientist who got hit with gamma radiation in one of his experiments, and after that when he gets angry he turns into this giant green monster with super strength and crazy defense. So when someone gets super mad and goes on a rampage, we call it 'hulking out.'"

"Are you sure your comic book hero wasn't the Oni all along?" Susie giggled. Jake found that he liked the sound of her laugh more than he thought he would. "It would be pretty convenient to have powers like that… I'd never be bullied again."

"Being bullied doesn't mean you should change a single thing about yourself," Jake argued, surprising even himself with how defensive he sounded. "If someone bullies you, they're the ones who need to change. But people never do. That's why I spend most of my time alone."

Susie's expression turned pensive. "I don't know… I think people can change, sometimes."

Jake realized she was talking about herself. And she was right. Although a part of him felt like she'd always been this same person, even from the very beginning. His lips quirked into a half smile and he scooted a little closer to her; the brush of their shoulders sent a warm tingle throughout his whole body. "Yeah. Maybe they can."

Finding the small clearing she'd been looking for, Meg helped Evan over to her favorite tree; this tree was massive, probably the thickest in the entire forest, with a lovely nook right at the base of its trunk, perfect for curling up for a nap. She often spent time here after a run when she wasn't in trials, especially in the early days. Sitting him down in the nook and suppressing a smile at the way his massive body seemed to fill the entire space, Meg sat down across from him. He hadn't spoken the entire time, and she hadn't pressed it. But now that they were settled, she needed her answers.

She started with the first one. The most important one. "Why?"

Evan rumbled, avoiding her gaze at first. His unwillingness to hash things out was suddenly infuriating. Meg felt all patience slip from her and her brows furrowed, her voice raising. "You contradict yourself around every turn! You do things that make me think you…" she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. "B-But then you claim you don't care! You betray us, work for the Entity, then go on a killing spree and risk yourself to save me! Why, Evan? Tell me how you really feel!"

"... Tiger lilies," he finally said.

Meg stared, dumbfounded. "Huh?"

"Tiger lilies…" he rumbled, staring at the ground. When his eyes lifted to meet her gaze, Meg was struck with how intense his stare was. "You remind me… of… tiger lilies."

Meg tried to recall what that particular flower looked like. "Because they're… orange? Like my hair?" She paused. "I remember you saying my hair was the first thing you'd noticed. Y-You said it was… beautiful."

"Yes. But…" Evan shook his head quietly. "Not… only that." He seemed to be trying to gather his courage, mustering up the will to be honest. Vulnerable. Meg had never really seen him like this. "They are… resilient. Vibrant. Able to… withstand… winter, if cared for… correctly." Meg felt a shiver roll down her spine. "They were… my favorite… flowers."

"Were?" Meg tilted her head, her thoughts reeling from these surprising confessions. She had asked for this though, hadn't she?

"As a child." Evan paused. "But… that doesn't… matter."

"It does." Meg scooted closer to him, her knees going in between his outstretched legs. Getting close to him reminded her of their immense size difference and she suddenly felt very small and vulnerable herself. Her eyes roamed his body briefly, lingering a moment too long on his bare torso. His overalls had definitely been ripped in one of the fights he'd been in and she couldn't help but notice just how much bulging muscle he had.

And those tingles… the tingles that appeared every time she got close to him, or looked him in the eye… they were back, crawling up her arms and down her spine. "Evan… why have you done all of these things? How… how do you feel about me? About this? What… what's going on in your head?"

He stared at her, and the longer his eyes roamed her face, the hotter her cheeks felt. Then he raised a hand - a massive, strong, powerful hand, capable of murder and all sorts of atrocities - and rested that hand on her cheek, large fingers threading into her hair. His touch was gentle and completely unexpected, and Meg's breath caught in the back of her throat. She felt like she couldn't breathe as his hand caressed her face, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. As if her reactions were the only thing he needed in that moment.

"You really… don't know?" he finally asked, his voice low.

Meg shuddered. Maybe she did know. Maybe she knew all this time, but she didn't want to admit she was afraid of being wrong. She was afraid of how much it would hurt if she was wrong. "How could I know when everything has been so…" she bit her lip to hold back the sudden lump in her throat.

His gaze didn't waver. Whatever guilt, embarrassment or confliction he felt earlier seemed to have dissipated, replaced with steadiness. Reassurance. And suddenly Meg didn't need his words to know the truth.

But he offered his words to her anyways. "I did it… for me." His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't back down. "They told me… if I didn't help them… you would… die. And I…" His voice went quiet. "I couldn't… let that… happen. It was… selfish."

Meg's lower lip trembled. Before she could respond, he grunted and continued. "You… showed me… life. In a place where… everything… is dead."

Tears sprouted in the corners of her eyes. Despite everything he'd done in the past, the kind of monster he used to be, he had changed. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he saved her friends, in the way he was willing to sacrifice himself for her. Evan MacMillan was no longer a monster. He was a man, a man who was willing to make a change. For her, for her friends, for all of them.

Meg was suddenly overcome with the desire - no, the need - to be closer to him. She watched as Evan's eyes widened slightly as she inched closer and closer to him, her body making its way in between his legs so that she was almost in his lap. Her hands gripped his massive bare shoulders and she could feel each muscle tense, jumping and flexing under her fingers. Evan was nervous, perhaps, but he didn't seem angry and he certainly wasn't pulling away. His fingers remained on the side of her face, unwilling to move from their spot as if afraid that if he let go, she'd disappear again. Evan was steady. He was strong and warm.

He felt like home.

"Thank you," Meg said, voice cracking. Tears sprouted once more and this time they brimmed over the corners of her eyes and ran down her face. The hands on Evan's shoulders went up to his face, cupping his cheeks. "Thank you for saving my friends. Thank you for saving me."

His eyes reflected a myriad of emotions and for the first time, Meg knew she saw green in them. And they were beautiful. She leaned her face closer to his, and Meg could see the hulking man suck his breath in, brows furrowing. There was a tension between them now, but this tension was completely different from the toxic, dark, twisted lust they'd briefly succumbed to long ago. This tension was safe and warm yet exhilarating in ways she'd never felt with anyone. Not even before the Fog.

Meg was short of breath from the sheer anticipation as she pressed closer, able to feel the heat of his skin against her own. Evan's hand hadn't moved from her face, but his other hand almost hesitantly settled on her waist, as if nervous that he would scare her if he touched her. Perhaps he was afraid, since their only physical encounter had been twisted and perverse. A small part of her felt afraid, too, but a much larger part was thrilled at the prospect of being close to him again.

Evan's voice was shaky as he broke the silence between them. "Don't… want… to hurt you."

"I'm resilient," Meg murmured, eyes becoming half-lidded as her gaze shifted between his eyes and his mouth. Though his lips were scarred, they were full and masculine and looked deliciously soft. "Like a tiger lily. Remember?"

He tensed up against her and the look of slight shock and embarrassment on his face caused her to grin. "This is almost exactly how I imagined it in my dreams," Meg whispered. Evan said nothing; perhaps he didn't know what to say. So the red-head finally closed the last bit of distance between them, her hands holding his scarred face securely, and her lips ghosted over his.

Electricity crackled, searing her and causing her to gasp. The exhilaration she felt from just a simple touch was palpable. Though she'd had to draw back for a brief moment, she knew she wanted more. She'd always want more. Forever. Her eyes cracked open and Evan's expression made the electricity intensify. The embarrassment was gone, replaced with a hunger that shook her to her core. He wanted this too.

"Little Rabbit," he uttered.

This time Evan closed the distance, the hand on her face going to the back of her neck and pulling her in. Meg was overwhelmed with the surge of sensations and emotion she felt when her lips met his once more. He tasted of smoke, whiskey, and something unique she couldn't quite put her finger on; but she knew she could sample it forever. Kissing Evan in her dream state was nothing in comparison to the real thing. Meg's arms wrapped around his neck to press fully against him, aching to be closer than close, and it was only when her lungs were aching for air that she finally pulled away for a moment, breathless. "Evan…" Meg whispered, eyes hazy.

"Not here," he replied, though the tone of his voice made it clear it was hard for him to resist the crackling tension between them. "Not… in the dirt."

"I don't care where," Meg murmured, barely resisting the urge to claim his mouth again. "I just want you."

She felt Evan shudder against her. "When we… get out of here."

Meg bit her lip, eyes drifting to his mouth. She wanted nothing more than to keep kissing Evan until the end of time, but he was right. They had a battle to finish. They had to get home. And no one would be able to rest until it was all over. "You're with us, right?" She asked softly.

Evan's gaze was steady. "I'm… with you. Always."