Through the darkness of his cell, Ethan reluctantly stared up at Bela. His mouth would have been agape in shock, but then his teeth would have been chattering too noisily.
"Would you rather continue quaking and shivering until you really develop hypothermia?"
Bela was right.
God, he hated when she was right.
There wasn't any other way to go about it. Even if he resisted, Bela would likely take matters into her own hands. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. All he could do was resign to his fate.
"Fuck," Ethan grumbled and uncurled from his fetal position of meager warmth. He scooted until his back hit the stone wall – then he turned around to face it. If he was going to do this, then he refused to look at Bela throughout the ordeal. His goddamn cheeks were already heating up – whether from the beginnings of frostbite or his embarrassment, Ethan didn't want to know. A final curse, and Ethan tucked himself into a ball once more. "Jesus Christ."
There was the rustle of cloth, followed by the sink of his mattress beneath Bela's weight. It wasn't an altogether unfamiliar feeling; she'd taken up her perch on the bed many times before. But under the cover of darkness, feeling the give of his mattress made Ethan's heart quicken. A gentle tug came, pulling the thick blanket enough to grant Bela entry. With it came a brief chill of cold, which rocked Ethan's body with shivers. With haste, Bela slipped under the blanket with a whispered, "Sorry."
It was like someone had tucked a space heater under the blanket with him. Ethan nearly peeked over his shoulder to check – just to make sure it was actually Bela who crawled into bed, and that she hadn't stuffed a heater in next to him.
Ethan felt another tug on the fur blanket towards his neck. Bela's whisper came warm against his nape. "Let's get your head under the covers."
He was too busy suppressing another shudder to resist.
Bela pulled the blanket over their heads and tucked them in – effectively cocooning them both, preventing the heat Bela was generating from escaping.
Ethan felt a ripple of goosebumps on his skin when Bela settled a hand on his arm. "So… little spoon?"
"Shut up," Ethan grumbled. "Just – shut up."
Bela's giggling – warm enough on a regular day – felt warmer still against the back of his neck. Not that Ethan needed additional warmth at this point. Bela was running hot in a way he hadn't at all been expecting. The worst of his shivering already began easing off and losing their violent, sharp edge.
"How are you so warm?" Ethan asked, still facing the walls of their cocoon.
In lieu of answering his question, Bela instead gave his arm a squeeze. With her voice exceedingly soft, she warned him, "To ensure you are… evenly warmed up, I'm going to get closer to you. Is that okay?"
Ethan felt it sounded like something out of a badly written young adult novel.
Unfortunately, he wasn't in a position to argue. He needed all the warmth he could get. If that meant Bela had to spoon him to do so, then he had to say goodbye to his dignity for the time being.
"Yeah. Go."
After a beat, Bela took a breath and muttered, "Let me just…"
Ethan's head bobbed up by a degree as Bela slipped her arm under his pillow. Her other hand trailed down from his upper arm before snaking around to his midsection. Bela's warm body then flushed completely to his back, leaving not a scant inch between them. Her legs found their place tucked into the crook of his own, and he had to suppress another chill when her bare foot brushed his. Finally, Ethan felt Bela lean her head against the back of his.
With their position locked in, Bela let out an almost shaky sigh.
"To best transfer heat, I need to get my skin against yours." Bela's statement had a detached ring to it – like she was trying to be as professional about it as possible.
"If you think I'm taking my fucking clothes off," Ethan bared his chattering teeth, even if the expression went unwitnessed. He hardly had a scrap of dignity left, and he intended to hold onto the last shred. "You're even more crazy than I thought."
There was a pause. Bela's only reply at first was a warm breath against his nape. Her tone was placating when she negotiated, "Just let me get one arm under your shirt." Bela pinched the fabric of his sweater with the hand she had over his abdomen.
Ethan shut his eyes as he warded off another shiver. He could take some comfort in Bela's current bedside manners. It appeared he wasn't the only one distressed by his current predicament. Bela was putting on her air of indifferent professionalism to avoid making their position any more awkward than it already was.
"Fine." Ethan relented.
Bela wasted no time moving her hand down, slipping it underneath his layers of clothing. Ethan took in a sharp hiss of air when he felt Bela's hot skin against his chilly body. Her warm hand came to a stop by his sternum. Like clockwork, the heat began spreading throughout Ethan's chest, and was contained by his thick layers.
Ethan couldn't bear to allow the silence to go on for a single second, not with Bela pressing her bare hand to his chest. Not when he could hear his heartbeat in his ears – or worse, that he could hear Bela's heartbeat with how she was so close – closer than she'd ever been.
He opened his mouth to restate his question, only for Bela to beat him to it. She got the words out in a rush, and Ethan felt he would've probably sounded the same.
"I told you – I'm cold-blooded." Taking a breath, she explained, "I am ectothermic."
"Okay," Ethan muttered, "Let's pretend I don't know what that means."
Bela gave a breathy laugh against his neck. Ethan swore if she kept this up, he wasn't going to stop shivering any goddamn time soon, no matter how warm she was.
"I cannot regulate my body temperature. It all depends on my environment." Bela spoke in a calm, measured tone. The only giveaway that she reciprocated his mild apprehension was the rapid beat of her heart against his back. "I was cozied up by my fireplace moments ago, so right now I'm still very warm."
Ethan didn't have a witty remark ready in the chamber for her. He nodded slightly, inadvertently nudging her head as he did so – another reminder of the absolute lack of space between them. As if he needed any more reminders of Bela's slender body wrapped around his.
"How do you feel?" Bela drew her thumb across Ethan's chest in slow, languid movements.
"Cold," Ethan admitted through slightly chattering teeth, but soon added, "I think it's working though."
The heat Bela was radiating was fending off the chill with unmatched effectiveness. It probably wouldn't be long until he was feeling mostly back to normal.
"I believe I arrived just in time." Bela's gentle voice was soothing. "Any later, and you may have started developing serious symptoms. As it stands, your case is merely being at risk of hypothermia. Nothing a few more minutes of this can't fix."
Dr. Bela Dimitrescu at it again.
"You ever treat anyone with hypothermia this way? Using your clingy-ass self as a heater?"
Bela's hot scoff made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as she answered, "This is admittedly a first."
"Lucky me – ouch!" Ethan's sarcasm was rewarded with her pointer finger's nail digging into his skin.
Satisfied by her little victory, Bela went on to inform him, "I am unsure how much longer I'll be running hot, though."
As Ethan's braincells continued to thaw out, he felt his deduction skills begin to return. Bela relied on her environment to stay warm. Now that she was losing that warmth – transferring it to Ethan – she'd eventually get fairly temperate. Her effectiveness as a space heater wouldn't last forever.
Consequently, that meant she would probably rely on his own warmth once his temperature got back up.
Ethan quashed that thought before it could snowball.
Going from nearly getting impaled on meat hooks, to spooning with his captor, all within the span of a week – dwelling on this did not bode well on his sanity.
That went doubly so for the fact he didn't find their current position uncomfortable in the slightest.
Compromising, vulnerable, and a little embarrassing? Yes.
But uncomfortable?
It was quite comfortable actually. If his heart weren't beating so rapidly, he could probably fall asleep in the security of Bela's arms. That only meant he was probably too comfortable if he were to think of it rationally.
Too bad he was getting more irrational by the day.
"Ethan?"
He swallowed hard.
It was different hearing Bela say his name like this in the darkness – with her lips barely an inch from his neck, her body draped around his, and her hand contentedly tucked underneath his shirt.
It was a lot to take in.
Not trusting his voice to remain steady, Ethan hummed back in question, "Hmm?"
"Why did you bathe with that bucket instead of accepting my offer?"
There was something to Bela's tone – like a host whose hospitality had been shunned – that got a quiet laugh out of Ethan. The ridiculousness of it all was too much.
Bela was either as pure of a soul as she looked, or she was a master of manipulation. Only she could get him to follow along with that terminology she'd spouted long ago – of him being a guest, and her being the host.
The roles of captor and captive seemed so strange and foreign. Those two words hardly encapsulated the odd relationship they'd formed. They didn't do justice to the amount of solace and ease which he felt around Bela – or the genuine enjoyment Bela seemed to draw from spending time with and conversing with him.
Of course, it didn't change the fact that he was still in a cage, and that Bela had the means to let him out any time she wished – but didn't.
Ethan wasn't really actively upset with her for that. That itself probably spoke of how far gone he was, and Ethan was well aware of it.
It was precisely why he avoided ruminating on their relationship if he could help it. It was easier to remind himself that all of this was a means to getting Bela to trust him – to lower her guard enough to finally release him. As dumb as it may sound to any sane person, this was the only safe, sensible way forward.
What was the alternative – try to smother the inhumanly strong bug-woman with his pillow? That was suicide with one extra step.
Besides, it'd been several productive days since he'd decided to play the long game with Bela.
If Bela was comfortable enough to spoon him in bed, then her being comfortable enough to let him out of the cage didn't seem all too far-fetched.
Ethan admitted, "I figured you'd find some way to fuck with me. Thought that maybe my bucket-bath in the cell was a better idea."
There was a warm exhale against his neck, sounding vaguely like a laugh. Bela tsked him before chiding, "No, of course not. On the contrary, you would be most unbothered."
"Why do I doubt that?" Ethan grumbled.
"Believe it or not, you would be safe as can be in my bathroom." Bela's legs idly shifted until one had wrapped over his own. "It is private, secluded, and nobody will disturb you." He could hear the smug smile in her voice as she added, "Most importantly, you are unlikely to catch a cold in there – or hypothermia as you'd nearly managed to do."
"I dunno, Bela," Ethan muttered back, "Just sounds like you want an excuse to lock me in your bathroom instead of this cage."
"If that is how you feel," Bela began to reel in the arm she'd snaked underneath his shirt, "You can enjoy getting warm on your own."
Ethan tucked his elbow close to his body, preventing her from pulling her hand out. He could already picture her victorious smile at one-upping him. With less reluctance than he probably should have, he conceded. "Fine. I'll take you up on that offer next time."
With Bela's chest pressed to his back, he felt more than heard her pleased hum. "That's my good puppy."
As Bela returned her warm hand to its spot by his chest, Ethan bit back, "Shut up."
All Ethan got in reply was Bela's head gently nudging into his own.
Nothing was said for a while. The only sounds to pierce the silence of the dungeon were their soft breaths. Ethan focused on Bela's – literally – hot body warming his own. He centered himself on the small, delicate strokes of Bela's thumb against his skin. It served as a good distraction from his trembling body.
It wasn't too long before the chill had tapered off from his extremities. The chatter of his teeth grew manageable, then vanished completely. His quaking and shivering diminished, until he lied perfectly still in Bela's arms. On Bela's end, she was no longer prickling with heat like a blazing bonfire. She felt about as warm as any normal person – and Ethan figured that was because they were still tangled up together.
"I think I'm okay now." Ethan brought it up before he could second guess himself.
After a beat, Bela asked, "Are you certain?"
"Mhm," Ethan hummed.
It was hard to miss the reluctance in Bela's movements. Her legs brushed against his for a second longer before settling behind him. Bela's hand continued to graze his skin as she withdrew it from his shirt – but Ethan may have been the one to keep it in place for just a moment longer with his elbow in the way.
No, that was Bela. Definitely Bela.
(He'd lost his fucking mind.)
And just like that, Bela had pried herself off of Ethan's body. No warm arm secure around his abdomen. No leg draped around his own. No tickle of breath against his nape.
Ethan made the conscious effort not to scoot over and close the distance she'd just put between them. Instead, he partially dismantled their cocoon of warmth – pulling the blanket down to chest level. The cool air was now a welcome change; it was much milder than the earlier prickling cold. To get a little more comfortable, he rolled onto his back, and got his first good look at Bela. It was still dark as all hell, but with their proximity, and the time his eyes had to adjust to the darkness, he could see enough.
Bela propped her head up in one hand, and leaned her elbow on his pillow. She was turned on her side to face him, still barely more than a few inches away. Bela tucked a few loose strands of her hair – messier than usual – behind her ear. Despite the dim light, Ethan could make out the absence of makeup on her features – down to her usually dark lips. They seemed to be a pale shade of pink, but looked no less full than they typically did.
Not that Ethan paid particular attention to how full Bela's lips looked.
That would be absurd, of course.
The other thing that Ethan noticed was the absence of her usual red pendant from her neck – another indicator that she'd come here straight from her own bed. Eyeing Bela's neck inevitably led him to glance at the rest of her – the defined collarbones, the toned arms –
Right – Bela wasn't in her usual dark dress. In its place was some sort of white nightgown.
Ethan figured it was so strange to him solely because he'd never seen Bela wearing anything other than that ominously dark dress.
"It's rude to stare, Ethan." Bela deadpanned.
Clearing his throat, Ethan looked straight up at the stone ceiling. "Sorry."
"If you enjoy staring at me so much, then perhaps you can make me another portrait." Even in the darkness, Ethan could see Bela's wink.
At least the dark hid the flush of his cheeks which he was sure was already beginning to form. Ethan deflected as best as he could. "Don't you have better shit to do than annoy me? What about the blood samples you took? You done playing around with those yet?"
Ethan felt a hint of satisfaction at the thin, unamused line Bela's lips formed. After a moment's thought, she answered, "My playing around with them has yet to finish… nothing too conclusive just yet. I need more time to study the sample."
"What about Miranda?"
Bela gave an unamused puff. "I would not know. We aren't in contact."
Ethan had been curious about Bela's dodginess when speaking of her past interactions with Miranda. The latter was, after all, the apparent mastermind behind this whole mess. While he wasn't sure how Rose had gone from Chris to Miranda, it was quite clear that Miranda was the one with the big, sinister plans. What Bela had to do with her, Ethan could only guess. So, he pried, just a little, "Has it been that long since that one time you worked together?"
The answer came in a hum, and Bela closed her eyes in contemplation. After a beat, she admitted, "Probably a few decades now."
It was an odd topic for literal pillow talk. Then again, the fact Ethan was having pillow talk with Bela of all people was even more odd. It made his throat a little dry to think about.
"What did you work on?" Ethan kept his voice soft, mimicking the gentle tone Bela had been using almost the entire night so far.
Bela's amber eyes wandered across his face, as if searching for some cue or hint of how to proceed. After a while, Bela let out a deep sigh. She sunk down to lie her head on the pillow, then rolled onto her back to look up at the ceiling. He made no move or comment when she scooted oh so slightly until their shoulders pressed together.
"Experiments." Bela took a breath before adding, "Relating to the mold and the Cadou."
The unfamiliar word jumped out at Ethan, so he repeated, "Cadou?"
"Hm," Bela hummed in affirmation. "It is a… it is born from the mold, or so Mother Miranda told me. Sort of like a parasite. A vessel by which the mold can spread or…"
"Or?"
Another sigh, "Or be implanted in a suitable host."
Ethan's neurons, now thoroughly thawed out, began firing off.
If the mold wasn't the direct cause behind the wolfmen, the Moroaice, and even the Dimitrescu Family's mutations, then it may be the Cadou's doing. Or to be specific, it was Miranda's doing, using the Cadou. The idea that Bela may have had a hand in the creation of the twisted mutants didn't bode well with Ethan.
The uneasy rumble in his gut reminded him of the oft forgotten fact: Bela wasn't just his sweet captor who cooked kickass food and cared for his health. She was aligned with the person responsible for Rose's kidnapping, and all the atrocities in the village below.
Ethan craned his head to look at Bela. She stared hard at the ceiling rather than meet his gaze. It appeared Bela was perfectly aware that her involvement with Miranda, past or present, wasn't a good look for her.
But in Bela's defense, they had supposedly collaborated only once. It merited further inquiry, so Ethan asked, "What was the point of it all? What's with the Cadou?"
To his surprise, Bela laughed. A bitter, unhappy sound if he'd ever heard one. She still looked straight up as she answered. "That's not how things work around here, Ethan. I was not told the why. Only the what. Mother simply left me with Mother Miranda and instructed me to do as I was told." Bela sneered. "Like a good, obedient little girl."
Bela glanced at Ethan once, a certain vulnerability twinkling in her eyes. "We created lycans out of the hosts Mother Miranda provided. I thought we'd done a good job until she began fuming."
"Why was she mad?"
"Apparently, the experiments were a failure." Bela frowned, scoffing, "As if I could actually contribute to the outcome when I didn't even know what we were trying to achieve."
Given the sharp brain Bela had, Ethan felt it was worth prompting her, "What do you think she was trying to achieve?"
Shrugging, Bela replied, "Probably something that was less bloodthirsty and feral. Beyond that, it is a mystery to me. I do not know what experiments she runs these days, and I prefer it that way."
Ethan felt it was almost uncharacteristic of her. Surely someone who thirsted for knowledge as much as she did would want another chance. Even if their first foray into freakish science had gone south, the second may have gone better. Who was to say they wouldn't have hit their stride after more time together? But before Ethan could question it, Bela continued.
"I didn't like her much."
The frankness of the statement caught Ethan off guard. He laughed slightly at her flat delivery.
"Even before the experiment failed, I…" Bela huffed in distaste. "I could not feel at ease around her. She just had this…"
"Bad vibe?" Ethan suggested.
Bela cracked a small smile his way. "I suppose that's one way to put it." Her pale lips parted for a second; she parsed through her thoughts and memories. "After we parted ways, I told Mother I no longer wanted to work with Mother Miranda. I am grateful that she listened. It would have been a miserable experience working for her."
"You make her sound like a real bitch," Ethan remarked.
The delighted laughter Bela produced was a warm change from her prior bitterness. She turned her face Ethan's way, biting down on her bottom lip to keep the giggles in check. When she reeled them in, she nodded. "She was a bitch, yes."
It was Ethan's turn to grin at that – at the utterly foreign sound of a curse on Bela's tongue. It was charming in a strange sort of way.
The next goal would be to get Bela to say fuck. That would make his day.
Amusement at the profanity aside, there was some relief that soothed the unease in his gut. Miranda and Bela's association being a one and done deal was the best-case scenario, all things considered. It was almost too good to be true.
If their partnership had gone on for longer, it would have been prudent for Bela to keep it hidden from him. It would, after all, only fuel the distrust he had for Bela, which was very little these days.
Yet Ethan found Bela to be genuine. The possibility that she may be lying hardly at all occurred to Ethan. Dishonesty just wasn't part of who Bela was – Ethan was sure of it.
He allowed himself a moment to bask in that relief. That Bela wasn't deeply complicit in the creation of the unholy monsters and mutants which were running amuck. Out of Bela, he may yet just be able to make an unlikely ally against Miranda.
And as a potential ally and her companion – captive? – Ethan felt the need to be an open ear for her, should she need it.
"Why couldn't you sleep?" Ethan asked.
Thanks to the silence of the dungeon, Ethan could hear the breath Bela was holding. When she released it, she gave an indecisive shrug and mumbled, "Lot on my mind."
After Bela had warmed him up enough to beat back the risk of hypothermia, listening to her was the least he could do. With a quiet grunt, he shifted onto his side. He tucked his arm underneath his head, resting his cheek on his forearm. His knees bumped into Bela's leg – another little reminder of the nonexistent space between them. The space which, by all rational thought, should probably be increased. Yet seeing as Bela made no move but to turn her head to face him, then he wasn't going to move either.
"What's going on in that bug brain of yours?"
Bela's golden eyes were fixed to his as she admitted, "Nightmares."
A furrow formed on Ethan's brow. He couldn't imagine what a nigh invincible bug-woman got nightmares about. So, he prompted her, "You wanna talk about it?"
He watched the bob of Bela's throat as she gulped before answering, "Not tonight, please."
Ethan regarded Bela for a while longer as the gears in his mind began to turn.
Mia was no stranger to nightmares either. He wasn't the only one who woke up in a cold sweat, dazed, confused, and afraid. While Ethan's trauma pre-Romania had all occurred over the span of a long, long night, Mia's had lasted for much longer than that. She'd been with the Bakers for years in that horrific fugue state. The damage it did to her psyche couldn't be understated.
Putting two people with PTSD in the same bed wasn't an ideal solution either.
After being woken from one of her worst nightmares, Mia had clambered on top of Ethan and pinned him down by the neck – thinking him to be some moldy intruder. Ever the fighter, she reached for the gun tucked away in their bedside drawer. It was a good thing that she'd come to her senses quickly. By the time she tugged the drawer open and sent it crashing onto the floor, she was an apologetic, weeping mess.
One of his own particularly violent nightmares had Mia gripping him by the shoulders as he came into consciousness. She'd gotten an elbow in the face for her efforts; it was a miracle Ethan hadn't broken her nose. He was just lucky Mia didn't take it personally. On the contrary, she gave a nasally laugh as she clutched her bleeding nose. With dark humor that shouldn't have made either of them crack up as much as it did, Ethan told her they were even now after the chainsaw incident in the Baker House.
Those two particular incidents were, thankfully, on the extreme end of the spectrum. Most of the time, they simply needed a second or two to get their bearings before melting into each other's arms. In hushed voices, they talked of the nightmares that haunted them – bits and pieces usually. It was never pleasant delving into the details of the horrors that plagued them.
Whenever Mia had a hard time opening up, Ethan offered to go first. The empathetic olive branch was usually enough to get Mia to talk a little and get the load off her chest.
"I get a lot of nightmares too." The admission should have left Ethan feeling vulnerable. Instead, speaking the words to Bela only made him feel lighter. "Usually a couple each night. Can't get more than two hours of sleep at a time because of it."
Ethan left out the part where Mia's absence from his side only made things worse. Whenever he woke to the cold, vacant space in bed next to him, he was bitterly reminded of his loss and failure as a husband and a father. Just thinking about it made Ethan's throat tighten.
Bela's hands, previously clasped over her midsection, moved to take his free hand. It was an odd sensation, given his missing fingers. But it wasn't an unwelcome one. Bela set their joined hands down on her midsection. Ethan had to take a second to admire her gown's silky fabric, and the soothing warmth that radiated beneath it. Bela's other hand then followed suit, keeping their entwined hands fastened over her stomach.
Holding hands like this with no apprehension or second thought – the oddity of it all didn't escape Ethan. The ease of their movements was uncanny, as if they'd done this a thousand times before. As if they were any two ordinary people who held hands in bed and spoke in hushed voices only meant for the other to hear. There was no use questioning it. Ethan was tired, and Bela's comforting touch was his respite. He was drawn to it – to her – like a moth to a flame.
"Do you dream about those people? The ones who cut off your leg?" Bela's gentle fingers rubbed circles against his hand, easing away the apprehension.
"I used to." Ethan paused, taking the time to lick his lips and pick his words. "Now it's different stuff I get nightmares about."
Bela craned her head slightly, allowing her bright, intelligent eyes to glimpse his. It was as if that was all she needed to draw the details out. She developed insight from that alone. She asked in a whisper, "Is it Mia?"
Sorry, Ethan.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ethan nodded. "Big part of the nightmares, yeah."
There was reluctance to Bela's tone when she eventually asked, "How did she pass away?"
Ethan could close his eyes and be right back there in his goddamn dining room.
The muffled pops of suppressed gunfire. The thin haze of smoke that followed all the dispensed rounds. The silhouettes that stood out from the darkness with each muted muzzle flash. The ceiling lamps falling and shattering onto their dining table.
And who could forget the way he'd sat there slack-jawed after the first bullet ripped through her shoulder? Or the way he'd pitifully failed to dive over her and shield her body with his?
Then when given the second chance – with Chris barely two feet away – he still did nothing.
Ethan could have lunged for the goddamn gun. Who gave a shit if Chris would have likely put him in the dirt moments later? He could have at least tried to buy Mia a little more time to escape or something.
The fact he did nothing at all was what he hated the most.
Bela's light, steady massaging of his hand was what centered him. He could focus on the soothing sensation to temper his growing despair, which threatened to swallow him whole.
Ethan blinked a few times, and could almost banish the sound of Chris' gunfire from his mind. He could almost keep at bay the vivid images of Mia's blood splattered on the wooden floor.
"She was killed." He let out a shaky breath. "Right in front of me."
A harsh frown marred Bela's face. He didn't miss the tense tick of her jaw before she asked, "By who?"
Once more, Bela's hold on his hand – firmer this time – kept his emotions tempered. She stopped the furious grief from bubbling up and overflowing.
Ethan sighed. "Someone we thought we could trust." Looking into Bela's golden eyes gave Ethan a glimpse of her own anger, lurking just beneath the surface. It was a look he hadn't seen in days – not since before they began blurring the lines of captor and captive. "Someone we thought was going to protect us."
"Give me a name, Ethan. Is he in the area?"
All former traces of lightheartedness were gone. Bela's face mirrored the very anger she was helping him contain. She was out for blood.
"Yeah. Chris Redfield."
Bela swallowed hard. Her jaw was tense as her teeth gritted together. There was purpose and certainty in her voice when she told him, "We will find out why he betrayed you." She took a breath and spoke slowly, as if to be sure there would be no misunderstanding her, "And we will make him pay for what he did to you."
Ethan didn't doubt a single word Bela said. Not with that fire and determination in her voice. Not with how firmly she gripped his hand.
But it did still beg some questions. The practicality and reality of how they would seek retribution was up in the air.
"I'm stuck in this cage, Bela." Ethan spoke softly. The last thing he wanted was to come off as ungrateful while her temper was flaring hot. "How are we gonna do any of that with me in here?"
Bela sighed – a rough and frustrated sound. "Give me time to think." She chewed down on her bottom lip for a moment. The thoughtfulness was appearing to overpower the anger. It wasn't a surprise for someone as cerebral as Bela. "I will get back to you in a few days. We will have something then."
We.
Ethan had nearly repeated the word aloud – more out of a sense of wonder and surprise than anything else. It was still hard to grasp that there was a 'we' now between the two of them. In a rational world, they were supposed to be on opposite sides of us versus them.
Ethan's world was anything but rational these days.
Bewilderment aside, there was still that part of him – that gung-ho, guns blazing part of him – that felt the need to rush things along. It was a side of him that had been born in the blood-soaked husk of the Baker House. During a time when the weight of a pistol in his soot-covered hands was the most comforting thing imaginable. When the acrid smell of gun smoke in the air was a sign of victory – that he'd prevailed, and his moldy foes had not.
Ethan had to bite down that nagging voice in his head that felt days would be too long, and that they needed a plan of revenge now.
The long game would reap its rewards. Bela had essentially pledged herself to his cause in dealing with Chris. That was progress that went beyond his initial expectations.
The silence had drawn on and Bela appeared to have lost herself in her own thoughts. Ethan could see the gears turning behind her sharp eyes. Plans on top of plans. Persons of interest catalogued for later contemplation. Connections mentally drawn using imaginary red yarn.
When Ethan had stared at Bela for perhaps a moment too long, she turned to him. She blinked once or twice, as if only then realizing how absorbed she'd been in her mind. Ethan couldn't tell her how much time had passed even if he wanted to – he was a mess of thoughts and rumination himself.
From the earlier anger, then the thoughtfulness, Bela's expression changed to one of remorse and empathy. Like the emotional toll it had all taken on Ethan had occurred to her late. Her brows knit tightly together as she frowned. The mattress shifted beneath them as Bela turned on her side. She gently freed her right hand, bringing it instead to his face.
In spite of the rapid beat of his heart, Ethan didn't flinch when Bela cupped his cheek. Her thumb brushed his skin in unhurried strokes. He didn't miss the way she took her time grazing against his stubble. Bela's voice was impossibly soft. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, little one."
Ethan's throat constricted
The earnest compassion in her tone, and the kindness in her deep golden eyes – they were a lot to process. Or no, actually. It was exceedingly easy to process.
What was difficult to swallow was that Bela was the first person to look at him with such care and attention since Mia.
Ethan didn't trust his voice not to crack. Just like he didn't trust his eyes not to grow damp. Especially not while Bela fixed him with her gaze which had no right to break him down as much as it did.
Then the tears swirled in his vision, and he knew he was a goner.
"Oh, puppy." Bela whispered, "Come here."
Ethan lacked the energy to resist Bela.
(Not that he would if he did.)
She took hold of either of his arms. Gently, she guided an arm behind her – giving her easy access to wrap her arm over his neck and around his shoulders. His left was guided around her waist, where he needed no further direction. Ethan held onto her just as Bela pulled his face into the crook of her neck.
Ethan failed to bite back the first sob when he caught another whiff of that damned freshly baked bread.
"Shh," Bela pressed her lips into Ethan's hair as she hushed him. In broad, soothing strokes, Bela ran her hand up and down the arm Ethan wrapped around her. "I got you."
The floodgates had broken, and there was nothing Ethan could do to resist the tide of tears now.
Ethan had many regrets, both miniscule and major.
He could have offered to take out the trash more. Maybe learn to cook something other than a grilled cheese sandwich to take a load off Mia's plate. Or he could have even just taken a day off of work every once in a while to spend time with Mia – with how much she traveled, they needed to make the most of their time together.
He could have worked harder to find her after she went missing in the hurricane all those years ago. He could have been more present in the aftermath of the Baker House – more understanding and empathetic of how she dealt with her trauma differently than he did. He could have dived in front of the salvo of bullets which riddled her body.
Big or small, there was nothing he could do about any of that now.
The sobs shook Ethan's body. Bela rocked him back and forth in her position, essentially cradling him. Fingers eased into his hair, granting him the slightest consolation in their placid strokes. He could have melted in her arms then and there when she whispered, "You're okay."
But none of it was okay.
None of it had been okay for a long time.
One of the greatest lies Ethan had ever told himself was that he had time.
He and Mia had their entire lives ahead of them – there was no rush to take the extra days off here and there for quality time. Bills had to be paid after all.
Then she went missing and was presumed dead, and the entire clusterfuck that was the Baker House happened.
Had he learned his lesson then? That time was golden, and he had to hold onto Mia with two goddamn hands and never let go?
He did – but just for a while.
Because then the idea was that it was all over. The BSAA was watching over them, and all the crazy shit was in the past. Once more, they had their whole lives ahead of them. Rose was born of that optimism and hope. She was the physical manifestation of their second chance at life together. Ethan cherished the opportunity, just as he cherished Mia and Rose.
But then there they went butting heads over the Baker Incident, and all the trauma and baggage that came with it. All the tests and medication from the BSAA, for all three of them, and none of it was cheap in the slightest. Sinking into the grind of work and combative training was an easy excuse to dodge Mia on her more volatile days.
There was always the idea that tomorrow would be better. There would be one less argument with Mia tomorrow. They would hear some good news for a change from the BSAA tomorrow. The trauma that haunted them both would be just a bit more distant and easier to deal with – tomorrow.
Even with his pessimism and his fear that the peace would all inevitably blow up in his face, Ethan had never truly expected that for Mia, there would not be another tomorrow.
His wallowing was interrupted for just a moment. Bela's hushes and whispers were interspersed with new words.
"It's not your fault, Ethan."
It knocked the air out of him more than any punch to the gut could. He clung onto the sentiment – the hope that what Bela said might be true.
Ethan swallowed a lump down his tight throat amid shallow breaths. His trembling fingers dug against Bela's smooth skin – over her back and over her bare shoulders.
"I promise," Bela reiterated with a whisper in his ear.
Through the bleak, all-consuming darkness which Ethan prayed would suffocate him, he held onto Bela's words.
Pardoning himself of fault – of his failure as a husband and a father – that wasn't something he could do himself. That wasn't for him to do or say. Neither he nor anybody else should be able to make him feel like he wasn't the direct cause of Mia's demise and Rose's kidnapping. There was nothing that should be able to ease his grief; that flagellation and torment was just what he deserved.
Yet Bela's words pierced the oppressive miasma that hung over him.
With her kind, honey golden eyes, her halo of blonde hair, and her unending well of empathy.
His own personal angel of mercy in this hellhole. The only one who offered a chance of absolution from his sins and his failures as a husband and a father.
Ethan felt lighter.
He didn't have the words for Bela – they were all caught and constricted in his throat. Even if they weren't, Ethan wasn't sure what he would have told her anyway. He expressed his gratitude by tightening his grip around Bela as the hot tears continued flowing. He would have been worried of hurting her if not for her superhuman nature. All Bela did was give him a squeeze in return, lips brushing against his hairline in a kiss, but not quite. She kept Ethan's face tucked into her neck, and her body flushed against his.
He was grateful for that too. With his dignity in shambles, he couldn't imagine even looking at Bela in this condition.
He was in his jailer's arms as a pathetic, weeping, blubbering mess.
Ethan could not sink to a lower low past this.
But at the same time, with how Bela caressed him and made him feel like he wasn't a deplorable, worthless excuse for a human being – maybe it wasn't all that low that he'd sunken.
Yes, it was fucked up beyond all belief. None of it seemed rational or sensible.
In no sane world should a prisoner like him find so much sanctuary and security in Bela's embrace. The argument of his insanity and Stockholm Syndrome were ever-present. His attachment to Bela as his sole source of comfort was neither healthy nor normal.
All of the same could be said for Bela, and Ethan felt that was what counted for something.
Because in no sane world should a captor like her go through the trouble of cradling him in her arms like she was now. Everything Bela did – all the food, clothes, and heartfelt conversation – none of that was a farce. It was all out of a genuine, if not misplaced, sense of kindness and compassion – Ethan was certain of it.
If he'd lost his mind for allowing his walls to collapse around Bela, then she was equally insane.
They could be insane together for all the fucks Ethan no longer gave.
The facts – those had changed.
She locked him up but kept him company for hours.
She drank his blood a mere two times and hadn't badgered him for more.
She lowered her guard, and he lowered his – there wasn't any manipulation to it.
Bela stirred him from his thoughts to mutter, "I'm sorry that it is me you're stuck with." Her disappointed sigh – with herself, he realized – was warm against his skin. "Surely I am the last person you'd want to comfort you over this."
Ethan's throat had lost much of its tightness by this point. It was easy to gulp and steady his voice enough to tell her, "No. I'm glad you're here."
There was an air of trepidation about Bela, like she wanted to say more, or even disagree with him. Perhaps she had a thing to say about how their hazy roles as captor and captive did not align with their current actions. Ultimately, Bela said nothing. She simply kept Ethan in her warm embrace. Her lithe hand eased up and down his arm in soothing motions. The gentle shushes and reassuring whispers went on as time crawled by.
It was far, far different from the times he'd wake up in his cell lost and confused. In those moments, surrounded by nothing but the endless, echoing loneliness, it was an insurmountable feat putting himself together. The grief and pain were overwhelming – they knocked his defenses down with ease and then clawed mercilessly at his emotions. Ethan had no choice but to wait until he simply had no energy to sob and weep.
In Bela's arms, Ethan wasn't sure how much time had passed.
What he was sure of was that he already felt leagues better.
The grief and the heartache persisted – it would be a long time until they would become a distant memory, and Ethan wasn't expecting otherwise. But they were no longer unassailable titans with massive arms to crush his walls and gnashing teeth to tear apart his heart and his mind alike.
Now, they manifested in a dull, quiet ache that settled down deep inside him – all the way into his bones.
Given the circumstances, Ethan couldn't have asked for anything more.
A/N: First of all, many thanks for reading! As always, friendly reminder to hit the fave and follow buttons, bookmark, all that good shit. Shoot me a review to make my day and let me know how you felt about this chapter!
Okay, so I hope I delivered with the much anticipated cuddling. I'm sorry this wasn't as meaty as originally intended, but after I hit the 14k word mark, I realized that's a little batty for a single chapter. I ended up splitting the chapter more or less down the middle, that way it's not an overload and certain portions won't be at risk of overshadowing the others. All parts of the individual chapters will get their time and space to shine that way. Aaand, that just means you guys get more pillow talk in the next chapter, which I'm sure nobody is opposed to.
I'm pretty happy with how this chapter turned out. After all the time Ethan spends grieving alone, it's about time he finally got someone to hug it out with.
As usual, I can't remember if that's all I wanted to say in the notes, so that'll be it for now. I'll catch you fellas at the next update around the usual time. Stay safe and have a great week ahead!
