"What – were you just – were you toying with me?!" Daniela spat the words out with a vengeance as flies swarmed the air around them. Her head tilted, giving Ethan a good look at the visible dampness pooling in Daniela's eyes in spite of the fury. She cried out, "Was that why you wanted us to clean up the rest of the library?!"

"Dani," Ethan kept his voice low so as to avoid agitating her further. His anxious heart bounced around his ribcage as Daniela's grip on his wrist tightened further; the intensifying pain flooded his bloodstream with adrenaline – begging him to take action and fight. "Dani, I promise it's not like that."

Ethan barely suppressed a wince as Daniela's crushing hold grew unbearably tight, and the fury only continued to flow.

"Was it just a distraction so you could snoop around and," Daniela produced a sound akin to a scoff and sob all in one. "And look through my things?! Was this your plan all along!? Befriend me and then – then betray my trust?!"

Instinct and training were telling Ethan to wrench his hand free before his wrist broke completely. It was easy – even factoring in Daniela's inhuman strength. All he had to do was twist his arm one way, and put his entire body into the movement. There wasn't any brute force or strength to it – it was just the simple physics of leveraging his arm and his weight against her fingers. He would grant his wrist sweet freedom before Daniela could even blink.

Ethan had to consciously swallow down those intuitive reactions and bite down on his inner fight-or-flight instincts. Freaking out would only end terribly for him. If he tried to make a break for it, he'd be pinned to the ground and brutalized within moments. If he tried to fight back, his ribs would break all over again, and he'd lose more than a few fingers.

That red splotch on the carpet not far away – it was a grim reminder to not be stupid. In his state, there was no stopping Daniela if she lost control. It was only through calm response that he had a chance of getting out of his fuck-up.

Curiosity really did kill the cat – or at least, it risked putting the cat in an indescribable amount of hurt. And all for what – a painting?

"I'm sorry – that's my bad." Ethan held Daniela's gaze as he spoke, struggling to not grit his teeth or squint his eyes from the pain, "I didn't mean to go snooping or to disturb your stuff."

Daniela's lip trembled as she glowered at Ethan. The buzzing swarm around them didn't relent, and neither did Daniela's vise-like grip on Ethan. It took an inordinate amount of focus to not swat at the flies that nearly smacked him right on the face – or to cry out in response to the grasp on his wrist.

Any maids who wound up in a similar situation were fated to die the moment they reached a crossroads like this. Blinding pain, the mad swarm of flies smacking them in the face, and the shrill buzzing blocking out all other sound – they would probably be fighting for their lives right about now. It would only serve to fully unleash the monster lurking just beneath Daniela's skin.

"I was just curious, Dani – I didn't mean to step on your toes here." When Ethan's initial sentiment didn't appear to disarm Daniela's bubbling temper, he changed it up. "You didn't want that painting to be uncovered, right? I can cover it up again for you if you want."

Daniela's chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Her wide, watery eyes remained fixed on him as her free fingers flexed at her side in a fidgety manner – fingers that could rip him apart the moment he struck the wrong note.

Aside from the unintentional violation of privacy and the disproportionately violent response – Ethan figured Daniela's obsessive image of her library played into this. He put his stack of books down on her desk – where it didn't belong. He uncovered a portrait – which was supposed to remain concealed by the fabric. It undoubtedly helped spark that fire in Daniela, threatening to turn her into a blazing pyre.

In hindsight, he really should have asked before poking around. After he discovered the woman in the portrait's necklace without fuss, it just felt like fair game to take a peek – he got away with it once. Surely, he could get away with stealing a look at the painting.

How wrong he was, and how stupid he was. By now, he really should know better.

With a slight wince, Ethan offered, "I can cover that painting up if you let go of my hand, Dani. I won't mess anything else up – I promise." And when that didn't elicit a shift in Daniela's sizzling glare, or the maddening torrent of flies, he tried something else. He nodded towards the painting, doing his best to shift her attention away from the current predicament he was in. If her focus could be redirected, then he stood a chance. "That's a gorgeous portrait – would be a shame to cover it up, really. Art like that shouldn't be hidden."

The tightness in Daniela's grip began to relax, and Ethan leaned into that angle. With less pressure on his aching joint, Ethan was able to crack a small smile, "I'm serious – you've got some talent. I don't mean to toot my own horn but, uh – we kinda got that in common."

Daniela blinked, and she let out a confused, stifled laugh as her grip on Ethan's wrist loosened further. "What?"

Right. Probably not a common figure of speech around here.

"I meant that I don't mean to brag, but we have the artistry in common," Ethan explained.

The red haze that had befallen Daniela continued to simmer down. Her hold on Ethan lost more tension as her free hand rubbed at her teary eyes. When she could blink Ethan into focus – now easier with less flies buzzing in the air – she asked, "Is that so?"

Ethan then set his hand atop Daniela's – hoping the tactile gestures would soothe her further. The swarm of flies flitting back to Daniela's body was a good sign. Ethan gently rubbed at her hand as he spoke. "I do a little bit of drawing myself. I can show you if you want."

The library grew more and more quiet as the seconds ticked by, and the last of the colony of bugs retreated to Daniela. Her eyes finally left Ethan's face. They trailed from his shoulder, down to his arm, and finally his hands – one in her grip, while the other stroked her hand.

Daniela yanked her hand back – as if only now aware of what she'd done. Her brows pitched for a moment as she gripped her offending hand, almost like she was tucking it away, or hiding it from view. Keeping it close, she looked as though she were hugging herself – defending herself from the harsh reality of what she'd, once again, done.

Her eyes fixed to the floor like a child prepared for a scolding. Under her breath, Daniela whispered, "I'm sorry."

It seemed kindness and calmness in the face of Daniela's mood swings were truly the only way forward. Most that came before him probably – understandably – reacted with terror and panic when Daniela's mood took a violent shift. It would only fuel the flames, and likely cement their guilt in Daniela's eyes.

When there was nothing to egg her on, and she was greeted by kindness, there was some hope of breaking through her haze. It was up to Ethan to push on and do what few, if any, had done before for Daniela.

"It's okay," Ethan smiled. He began reaching for his back pocket before pausing and making it a point to voice to Daniela, "I've got some of my work here in my back pocket. Wanna see?"

Another olive branch. A show of trust – that he trusted her to see his art, and so he could be trusted around her art in turn. Who else, other than Daniela, had painted that portrait, after all?

Daniela nodded, smiling in earnest as the light slowly returned to her eyes, banishing the fear and remorse. Her hands clasped together in front of her, and they fidgeted together as she responded, "I'd like that."

Ethan would never hear the end of it when Daniela saw Bela's face in his journal, etched in pencil. He would simply have to contend with the teasing. This was vital to keep Daniela placid and build the trust between them. Besides, it felt like the right thing to do, since trust was meant to go both ways, after all. As much as Ethan would never admit it aloud, Bela's portraits were a highly personal thing to him.

Each one had been drawn to center himself in the storm that battered his mind. Bela had cemented herself as his angel of mercy in this shithole. His little drawings of her were a testament to the peace he found in her presence.

It took Ethan a moment to flip through his journal; his aching wrist certainly didn't help with the way it throbbed in pain. Once he located Bela's portrait, he took a breath and braced himself for the inevitable storm of teasing. He extended the journal forward to Daniela

She took the journal into her hands, and the reaction was nearly instantaneous. Her eyes lit up with delight, and a toothy grin settled on her features. The last remnants of their near-altercation vanished.

"Bela is modeling for you now?" Daniela was all teasing and giggles at the idea of it.

"That was drawn from memory, actually." It only occurred to Ethan after the words had left his mouth that it was no less incriminating. He really had to remember to think before speaking around Daniela.

The only thing worse than Bela personally modeling for his portraits was him inadvertently memorizing her face.

In his defense, her face was – at the time – the only friendly one he was exposed to. It was only natural that he'd gotten as attached as he had. He couldn't be blamed for committing to memory every elegant contour of Bela's face.

Daniela fixed him with a dubious look, just as Ethan had expected her to. Her hand waved to the portrait in emphasis as she remarked, "You must quite like my sister's face if you were able to draw her from memory."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ethan grimaced and scoffed in an attempt at dismissal, "It's a nice face," He paused to wince, shutting his eyes, because he really should just put his foot in his mouth at this point to avoid incriminating himself further. "Look, I don't have a lot of other people to draw – don't judge me."

"I'm not judging you!" Daniela laughed out. "I am just delighted to see you so taken by my sister –"

"What – taken and locked in a dungeon?"

She grinned wide in spite of his interrupting quip. "You do like her, don't you?"

Ethan felt like he was back in high-school, whispering with his friends about crushes and movie-date plans. The only thing missing was a spitball smacking him on the forehead from across the room.

"Dani – we've been through this," Ethan spoke sternly, even as he could barely keep a smile off his face from the ridiculousness of it all. Yes, he was fond of Bela, sure – but 'like' hardly covered the trust, respect, and care that had formed between them across the nearly two weeks of constant companionship.

It earned him a dramatic eyeroll from Daniela, before she reached over to return the journal. "Seriously, though. Your art is wonderful." She bit her lip for a beat, and she appeared particularly coy as she admitted, "When I first brought you in, one of my fun ideas was to paint you, actually."

Ethan raised his brows in mild surprise. Daniela's idea of fun was much less lethal than Cassandra's. Though, when it came down to it, danger from Daniela only came from her volatile mood. It made sense her plans for him were as laid back as a painting session.

Well, laid back as it can get, at least. She could paint the canvas with his blood if he wasn't careful.

"It is a rare treat for me to have a live subject to paint." Daniela clasped her hands together, rolling a shoulder and tilting her head – a show of playing up the cuteness and trying to butter him up to agree to model for her – which was wholly unnecessary, really. It was a break from the work of reorganizing the library, and it did not involve running and fighting for his life. How could he say no?

On the other hand, the phrase 'live subject' did give Ethan a split second of pause. It was innocuous enough on its own. But after nearly having his hand popped out of its socket, the term struck Ethan differently.

In any case, he was already in deep with Daniela, and there was no backing out now. At least this could give him a chance to let his own creative juices spill out as well. With a nod, Ethan gestured to her, offering, "You want me to draw your portrait while you do mine?"

Giddy joy filled Daniela from head to toe as her clasped hands came up just below her chin. The delight was unmistakable in her voice as she exclaimed, "I would love that!"

"Allow me to prepare some materials for us." Daniela stepped towards the desk. Tugging a drawer open, she pulled a sketchpad out, along with a small leather pencil case. Turning her head to Ethan, she explained, "To give you a larger page to draw on."

He gave a grateful nod. "I appreciate it."

Closing the drawer, Daniela began to step away – towards the supply closet she'd previously mentioned. "Take a spot by the middle where the lighting is nice. I will only be a moment."

It was a relief that she was retrieving her painting materials, and not dragging him in there for a fun time against his will. Though with how those mood swings got, Ethan remained a tad wary just the same.

As Daniela skipped on towards the closet, Ethan proceeded to the skylight as instructed. A glance upwards revealed the sun struggling to peer down into the skylight. Clouds filled the dull grey expanse above, and snowflakes continued to trickle down onto the glass. There wasn't a lot of light to go around, so they had to make the most of it.

Eventually, Ethan settled on one armchair between a support pillar and the bookshelf they painstakingly relocated earlier. There was enough light shining on it to give Daniela a good look at him. Similarly, it provided Ethan with a decent view of Daniela, who could take her spot underneath the skylight itself.

Waiting on Daniela gave Ethan the opportunity to massage his sore wrist as he got comfortable on the armchair. Dark purple bruises slowly formed in the shape of a hand.

Sneaking a peek at that portrait really wasn't his best judgment call – but it had, in a way, given Ethan the chance to practice how to defuse Daniela's temper. It was a silver lining born of the curious impulses that would undoubtedly get him killed one day; but it was a silver lining, nonetheless.

Maria and other unfortunate maids likely did not have the foolhardy sense of invulnerability that Ethan sometimes had – that audacity to look danger in the eye and know they would come out alive, one way or another. Whether born of stupidity or bravery, Ethan had that tenacity, and with it, the ability to remain calm underneath Daniela's bone-shattering grip. Any normal person would flip out, and Ethan wouldn't blame them.

Hell, Ethan should have probably flipped too, given all that happened to him. If that had been Cassandra gripping his wrist, they would have made a warzone out of the library by now, spitting taunts at each other amid physical blows. But with Daniela, it was different. She had a problem – a problem she admitted to. It wasn't all her fault that her hair trigger was as bad as it was.

If anything, Ethan could relate to that, especially in the early days after the Baker incident. The sound of creaking floorboards was enough to send him ducking behind cover. A loud bang had him reaching for the nearest pointy object. Unexpected physical contact resulted in a panicked, instinctive fist swung in the offender's direction – most often either Mia or Chris. Ethan's switch was all too easily flipped to survival mode over the smallest things. The difference was that Daniela lacked the support system and the therapy to tame those raw instincts. Ethan had to apply his experience, turning it into understanding for Daniela's sake, and respond as calmly as possible.

It was kind of like dealing with certain predators in the wilderness – like encountering lone wolves. Mad flailing, running, and screaming would get you nowhere. Sometimes the best course of action would be to look big, hold their murderous eye-contact, and withdraw slowly.

Regardless, if Ethan hadn't learned his lesson earlier, he certainly had now – there would be no laying a finger on anything Daniela owned without her permission.

With the soreness in his wrist mostly alleviated, Ethan cracked open the sketchpad provided to him. After seeing that portrait on canvas of (Ethan assumed) Maria, it came as no surprise to see all the drawings within, imprinted in pencil. A lot of the content could be seen as 'warm-up' sketches – rough shapes, and shading as a result of different light sources of varying intensity. Some were studies of anatomy and posing. They started from the basic shapes, then the detail grew as the figures gained mass and muscle, then clothing, and defined facial features.

Considering how long Daniela's been alive, she clearly had decades to hone her craft. Ethan's recreational-level drawing was nowhere near Daniela's caliber. It presented Ethan with a little challenge to match her skill as best as he could – especially since Daniela was about to paint him.

Ethan flipped to a blank page before inspecting the pencil case provided to him. There were numerous pencils within, of varying darkness of color, and hardness or softness of the graphite. A few well-worn erasers filled the small container as well, alongside a scalpel with a replaceable blade.

The confusion ran over Ethan for only a moment before it hit him. In the absence of a proper sharpener, any cutter or knife could serve a decent job in sharpening a pencil. Though a preliminary check of the pencils revealed all were sharp and ready for use. Absentmindedly and automatically – like some leftover drill imparted from Chris to check the condition of his knives – Ethan took the time to try the scalpel's blade.

Ethan's brows raised, mildly impressed by the ease with which the scalpel sliced through the pencil's wood, giving way to the graphite underneath. With that settled, Ethan returned the scalpel to the pencil case. He picked out an eraser and several pencils, just as the erratic click of Daniela's skipping steps filled the air.

Daniela carried her entire arsenal with her. Under one arm, she tucked a foldable easel and a small briefcase, undoubtedly laden with tubes of paint and an assortment of brushes. With that hand, she just barely held onto a small cup of water. Cradled in her other arm was a large, mounted canvas, ready for use. In that hand, she was carrying a tall stool, gripping the seat with nothing but two fingers and once more displaying the uncanny strength she had.

Ethan could only smile back at Daniela's wide, excitable grin. Within moments, she set her belongings down underneath the central skylight. The easel was unfolded, and the canvas was propped up on top of it. She took a seat on the stool, angling herself in such a way that she presented Ethan with a clear view of her face. The briefcase split open to reveal an expansive collection of brushes, and an entire rainbow of colors in tidy tubes of paint.

Daniela craned her head at Ethan as she prepared her palette of paints. "Why are you still dressed? Take your clothes off – this is a nude painting session."

"What?" Ethan sputtered out with a confused, slightly nervous chuckle.

With a sultry tilt of her head, Daniela declared, "Ethan, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls." Her hands sensually dipped down, fingers gripping onto the dress' opening by her collarbone. She bit down on her bottom lip as one of her bare shoulders came free from the dress. "Are you ready to steam up this room? I can even fly us up to the skylight so we can leave a handprint on the glass."

The seductive expression lasted for all of two seconds until she split into a fit of giggles. She gestured his way and managed out between laughs, "You should have seen the look on your face."

Ethan's face prickled with heat. All he could do was roll his eyes and scoff, "Haha, very funny."

It was a relief she wasn't serious. Now that his nerves had a second to cool off, his mind latched onto Daniela's very particular wording – straight out of Titanic. There must have been some TV, or a projector of some kind in the castle.

"I jest, this isn't a day for nude painting." Daniela winked. She rolled her sleeves up, a healthy precaution to keep her dress paint-free. "This is a clothing-optional painting session. Do feel free to strip if you are more comfortable that way."

"Around you, I'd feel more comfortable with more clothes on," Ethan shot back.

"Too bad," Daniela pouted as she brushed her hair with her fingers in the effort to look more presentable for the portrait. "You would have made for a wonderful anatomy study with those nice muscles of yours."

Ethan's face crinkled with displeasure as he remarked, "You'll need to find another volunteer for that."

Daniela gave a sharp giggle in response and counteroffered, "Or, I'll be sure to catch you treating yourself after Cassie's games. I'll even refill that disinfectant in the bathroom, just for you."

"Wow," Ethan dripped with sarcasm. "So considerate."

Daniela fired another wink in return then brought her attention back to her palette. One tube at a time, she squeezed and prepared the array of colors she would be using for Ethan's portrait. In kind, Ethan leaned back on the armchair and crossed his legs to act as a makeshift table. He rolled his shoulders and craned his neck around in the effort to get cozy, since he would be sitting here for a while.

As Ethan did so, his eyes inadvertently landed on the wooden column to his left. It was identical in appearance to the other columns supporting the skylight, save for one thing – a small, golden lever was fixed to the side. The handle was locked upwards, ready to be pulled down as necessary. Ethan's gaze trailed up from the lever – up the pillar, and over to the skylight itself.

Gears.

There were gears built into the frame of the mechanical skylight. Pulling down on the lever would open the skylight.

In an instant, adrenaline flooded Ethan's system. As clear as day, the path of destruction he could paint became increasingly clear, illuminated by the skylight above.

He could yank that lever down in half a second, blasting the room with the bitter cold. It would buy him just enough time to recover the scalpel from the pencil case. Daniela would be too disoriented and weakened by the cold to immediately pounce him. She had her hands full with the palette and all the paint – she wouldn't be able to retaliate.

The sharp blade would be in her neck within moments. He'd tear her jugular open, cutting her ear-to-ear, just like Chris taught him. In the struggle, he'd tangle his leg with hers to knock her to the ground. Pin her down by the bleeding neck while the cold whipped their bodies, and jam the scalpel into her eye until she stopped moving. He'd already gone through the same movements hours ago, in the cellar.

The two sisters were in the dungeons. They wouldn't know of what transpired until it was too late. All he had to do was locate Lady Dimitrescu's bedroom, grab Rose, and make his escape. Barely ten minutes could transpire, and he would be gone to the wind, in search of Chris, so he could punch the bastard in the teeth and steal his ride.

The best part? Daniela gave him all the tools he needed to facilitate his escape, and her bloody death.

It was easy. Killing Daniela and making his escape would be the easiest thing he'd done all week.

"Ethan, I…" The hesitant voice of the redhead in question broke through the haze that settled into Ethan's skull. As softly as she'd spoken his name, he still flinched in his seat to hear it. Ethan fought to calm his increasingly shallow breaths as he looked at Daniela, who smiled brightly at him. "I know this may sound silly, but… I really appreciate you sitting to model for me." With her brush to the canvas, she remarked, "I am having a wonderful time, and…"

Daniela bit her lip for a moment, looking decidedly shy as she picked through her words. "It means a lot to me that someone is here. That I'm not alone."

Ethan gulped down his dry throat, giving a vague, unsteady nod as his eyes fell back to his blank page. His hands trembled from the adrenaline pumping power into his veins – preparing him for the fight unfolding in his mind.

He set his pencil down on the sketchpad, allowing it to roll down onto his jeans. He didn't trust himself to hold onto any sharp or pointy object for the next few moments.

This was Dani.

She wasn't a murderous monster like the mindless, moldy denizens that populated the Baker House.

He couldn't kill her. Despite what his trauma-laden instincts were telling him – he could not kill her. Chris would kick his ass for not securing the advantage presented to him. He could practically hear the man shouting at him – raving at Ethan to move in for the kill. But it wasn't that simple.

Daniela was a person, troubled and damaged like any other poor soul who had been through their fair share of problems – but she was a person just the same. That splotch of humanity, far larger and more prominent than a first glance may reveal – it was present right down to Daniela's core, seeping out in her words and her actions. It was not in his place to erase it from this world.

Despite the scores of mutants and living bioweapons Ethan had put down, he never thought of himself as a killer. The beings that Ethan had killed were far from saving, and leagues from the lucidity and humanity that the Dimitrescu sisters possessed. They would not die by his hand, no matter how badly his limbic systems baser senses wished it. Not Bela. Not Daniela. He was not going to become a killer today.

The two sisters were friendly – he would even hazard to call them his allies in this godforsaken castle.

Cassandra was another story. She lived off of his pain, and struck him where it hurt. She brought Rose into things and leveraged her into gaining Ethan's compliance in her game. Given the chance, Ethan would succumb to his darker, more primal instincts to hurt, maim, and kill her. If it were Cassandra under that skylight, she would be reduced to a lifeless corpse, producing nothing but a fading gurgle as her neck spilled blood. The walls would be painted red by the time Ethan was done with her.

Ethan took a breath and forced himself to acknowledge that even in Cassandra's case, things were not simple. Daniela had shed light on the middle sister's story. It excused nothing, but explained a lot. The information Ethan had on Cassandra was barebones, but even that was enough to give him a moment's pause. If he learned of the nitty gritty details – his outlook on her would shift all the more.

"Are you okay?" Daniela's voice, riddled with concern, once more broke through the fog in Ethan's mind. Her brows furrowed together, and her large eyes bore into him.

The sincerity in her tone and that worried, innocent look on her features – as if afraid she'd done something wrong – buried away any last shred of doubt Ethan had for his deliberate choice of nonviolence.

He could smack himself for even thinking of hurting Daniela to facilitate his jailbreak – but Ethan knew that would do him no good either. It was his well-honed survival instincts that guided such thoughts. They were the same instincts that got him through the gnashing teeth, blood-soaked claws, and guttural howls of the Baker House. They served their purpose – but here in the Dimitrescu Castle, those instincts had to be quelled. Looking at Daniela's kind, concerned face, he couldn't see a monster. Not anymore.

It was good to have such knee-jerk reactions in the chamber, should they ever be necessary. For now, though, they would remain on the backburner for the foreseeable future.

Maybe he could get himself another therapist or two when this was all over. God knows how bad his mental state was, even before his imprisonment in the castle – back when it was only the PTSD from the Bakers that gave him trouble.

"Yeah," Ethan cleared his throat. He set his hands onto either side of the sketchpad – little anchor points to help with the shaking. He counted the beats before each inhale and exhale as he gave Daniela a steadier nod this time. "Remember when I told you I got a lot of stuff going on in my head too?"

Daniela's expression grew even more concerned, and Ethan was quick to assure her. "I'm better now, though. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Daniela's watchful eyes scanned him – his movement, his facial expressions – everything. It was like she wished to peer into his very soul to understand what was going on.

"Yeah, it helps that you're here too." It was more truthful than Daniela could ever know. It was that genuine humanity that dwelled within her which was precisely what defused his white-hot instincts. "It's good to know I'm not alone with that funk in my head."

Daniela was all sympathy and kindheartedness when she offered, "If you ever need to talk about it, you just say so, okay?"

Bela was right. Daniela really was a sweetheart.

"Thanks, Dani." Ethan smiled back at her with a grateful nod. His now steady hands secured his pencil – a lighter shade so he could prepare the rough shapes to start. "I appreciate it."

Graphite met paper, and the first strokes formed the makings of Daniela's portrait. The redhead in question served as a highly cooperative model. She angled her head just right, and avoided moving much beyond her eyes, which studied either her canvas or Ethan in turn.

Ethan wasn't used to having such a larger slate to commit his art to. More often than not, he only had his journal to doodle on. It allowed his sketches and more refined drawings to be completed quickly, and in a compact space. The sizable sketchpad forced Ethan to take his time and ensure his proportions were on point, lest he wind up losing all sense of Daniela's resemblance.

Time trickled by in a companionable silence, only broken by the sound of Ethan's pencils dashing across the page, or Daniela's occasional bouts of humming one tune or another as she painted. The lack of a clock made it difficult to tell just how much time was passing. If Ethan were living in a normal world, he could simply stuff a hand into his pocket and pull out his smartphone – check the time that way. Unfortunately for Ethan, the most modern device in this entire castle was the refrigerator in Bela's kitchen. All Ethan had to go on was the sun slowly moving across the sky, giving an impression of time's passage.

Ethan drew his pencil across the page, forming the rough outline of Daniela's messy, yet straight hair. It was then that she spoke up.

"You know, I never did enjoy the thrill of the hunt much."

Daniela's sentiment came from nowhere, and Ethan to pause and look up from the sketchpad. Daniela appeared thoughtful as she rolled her paintbrush between her fingers. When she didn't immediately elaborate, Ethan gently urged her on, "Really?"

"Mhm," Daniela hummed, swiping her brush against her palette. "It was more of Bela's pastime – and then both her and Cassie's." Another pause as the bristles hovered over her canvass for a beat. "And now it is just Cassie's hobby."

Torture and bloody murder hardly qualified as a hobby where Ethan came from, but he didn't point that out.

"Did you, uh," The word felt dirty in Ethan's mouth, "Did you hunt with your sisters a lot?"

"At first," Daniela answered, then sighed. "But I stopped."

That sounded promising.

"Why'd you stop?" Ethan returned his pencil to the page, refining the shape of Daniela's large, expressive eyes.

"To begin with, I only ever joined Bela and Cass so that I could be with them." Broad strokes were brushed against the canvas as Daniela spoke, "I only wanted to feel like I belonged."

Ethan kept his attention on Daniela, hands taking a second to pause from their shading. "And did you? Feel like you belonged, I mean."

The gaze Daniela had fixed onto her painting appeared to grow vacant as the moments rolled by. Her paintbrush fiddled between her fingers in a flighty manner. "It felt more like I was pretending to belong. I was sloppy, as Bela often used to tell me. I didn't enjoy any of the killing or screaming."

Daniela's hands dropped to her lap, and she let out a humorless laugh. "I know it probably sounds strange, but I tried to be like them. To enjoy myself, like my sisters did. To embrace what I was, like Cassie. I tried to do everything." The slightest shake set into Daniela's voice as the sadness only continued creeping in. "I told myself I would start to like it, but instead I only hated everything even more. But for them, I tried…" Her voice grew smaller and softer until it trailed off completely.

Daniela licked her lips and admitted, "I only wanted to spend time with my sisters."

It sounded as sad as it was macabre – that killing was one of the only ways to connect with one's sisters. The fact that Daniela put up with it, taking no pride or joy in the act, but did so just to spend time with her family – well, it certainly said a thing or two about how and why Daniela was the way she was now.

"Blood is a pain to wash out. It gets everywhere and on everything. Clothes. Skin. Hair…" Daniela's thumbnail scratched against the underside of one of her fingernails for just a moment – a ghost of that nervous mannerism Ethan had seen much of throughout the day. "I much prefer spending time here. It's so much more fulfilling than taking lives. It's peaceful here. Quiet. Here, I don't have to pretend. Here, I am myself."

Daniela gave him a smile, just slightly tinged in melancholy. With her palette, she gestured to the shelves surrounding them. "I'd rather learn of the rich lives of other people – read about it so I can see it through their eyes, you know?"

She heaved a sigh, heavier than Ethan expected, and lamented, "I may not ever be able to see the world for myself, but at least I can read about the lives of those beyond the castle walls."

It was as heartbreaking of a sentiment as when Daniela first broached the subject earlier, and Ethan learned just how blank of a slate she was. Speaking from experience, the life of a prisoner – ignoring the gourmet food and kind jailer – wasn't any way to live. As naïve and pointless as it was to think of – Ethan truly did wish Daniela and Bela (begrudgingly, even Cassandra) would get to see more than the frigid countryside someday. Hopefully someday, they could escape their prison.

Maybe when this was all over and Miranda was dead and buried, the whole Dimitrescu family could go on a vacation. Somewhere far away from this place. Away from the deadly cold, the cellar full of blood and wine, and the entire nightmare around them.

Maybe he would find Daniela playing beach volleyball with her sister and mother, while Ethan admired Bela assisting Rose in putting a sandcastle up.

Dumb, dreamy, idiotic thoughts – but still thoughts that Ethan admittedly was not entirely opposed to.

Just the same, Ethan blinked several times in the effort to clear the hazy images, barely noticing the smile lingering on his face. He made to pivot the topic slightly, hopefully keeping Daniela's spirits up in the process.

"You taught yourself to paint, then?" Ethan pointed at the canvas with his pencil. "Is that one of the things you got up to when you started spending more time here?"

Daniela perked up at that. "I did. I have a lot of free time on my hands, as you can imagine."

If that portrait of probably Maria or some other ill-fated servant was anything to go by, then that free time was put to great use. It was good to know she had a murder-free hobby to break the monotony of obsessively rearranging her library. "Do you have a bunch of other paintings somewhere around here?"

"Oh," Daniela cringed for a moment, "If you saw some of my earlier work, I would just die – I was terrible when I first started."

Ethan laughed and shook his head to tell her, "Hey – no shame in that. We all gotta start somewhere. When I first started, my stuff looked like it was drawn by an alcoholic five-year-old with two broken hands."

It got a hearty laugh out of Daniela. She bit down on her lip to stifle the laughter, enough so she could tell him, "Maybe I'll show you the more recent paintings later." She smiled and added, "The art that does not look like it was painted by a child."

"Well," Ethan tried his luck, motioning towards the painted portrait by the desk, "That one definitely isn't the work of a kid or an amateur. Looks like something straight out of an art gallery." She was already ducking her head, appearing suddenly shy from the positive feedback. "It's beautiful, Dani."

With her eyes avoiding his for the moment, Daniela beamed all the brighter. "Thank you. I did that one about a week ago." He could see the familiar sadness rapidly leaking into Daniela's smile when she admitted, "Maria modeled for me. She was the first servant to do that."

There was the confirmation Ethan was waiting for. Maria – Daniela's friend – sat for a painting. Ethan had likely seen the woman around the past week, just never underneath the veil. Still, Ethan was willing to bet Daniela had perfectly captured every tiny detail of Maria's features.

Down to the tarnished silver necklace, and the dove that dangled at the end. The same necklace still in Ethan's pocket.

Ethan's luck really was something else. Spending only a few hours in the library, and he'd already stumbled upon the necklace, belonging to Daniela's dear friend whom she killed over a book – and then he found the portrait of said maid. That streak of Romanian luck was working overtime.

Despite the lingering sadness beneath Daniela's smile, she was in far better spirits than earlier when she'd nearly ripped his hand off. The longer Ethan kept the necklace concealed, the harder it would be to explain why he didn't turn it over right away – especially now that he knew it once belonged to Daniela's late friend.

He had to give it now, or risk a more volatile mood swing down the line. It was about as dangerous as giving a child a loaded gun – but the sooner it was done, the better.

"Did you have a good time painting Maria?" Ethan asked, slowly uncrossing his legs which he used as a makeshift table.

"We both did. That was a good day." Daniela closed her eyes and hummed. "I miss her. I miss talking to her." The regret, sadness, and even shame clouded Daniela's face.

It popped a lightbulb or two off above Ethan's head.

There was a clear attachment Daniela had gotten to Maria, who was apparently one of the first real friend she'd made outside of her family. That, coupled with the necklace itself, may just work together to help Daniela's emotional hair triggers.

Through the bouts of PTSD-fueled disassociation, it was often Mia who broke through Ethan's haze – the same as he did for her. The process always started the same couple of ways. A soft voice here and a slow, light touch of the hand or arm there. The tactile contact and the sound helped pierce the miasma that fell over him. Mia's soothing voice sliced through the terrorizing roar of Jack's chainsaw without fail. After that cloudy state ended, it was an easier matter to talk about the thoughts and traumatic memories that had been running amuck in either of their heads. As long as there was an anchor to steady against the raging sea of memories, there was hope to remain firm and lucid in the present.

The necklace's clasp was broken, but maybe it could be secured around Daniela's wrist. The dove dangling against the chain could produce sound to help cut through the haze. Add to it that it was Maria's necklace, who died by Daniela's own hand – an act she thoroughly regretted – maybe it could serve as an anti-trigger of sorts.

Maybe. If Ethan was wrong, it might just look pretty around her hand instead, offering no tangible benefits.

Ethan was completely thinking out of his ass at this point, and had little other solid backing for his logic, but it was better than nothing.

Closing the sketchpad, Ethan drew in a deep breath and steeled himself. He set the pad down on the armchair along with the pencils and prepared to step once more unto the breach. It was only when he stood up that Daniela asked with a curious tilt of her head, "What are you doing?"

This could just as easily blow up in his face. No, it would very likely blow up in his face. Looking at a painting without clearance had nearly broken his hand. A necklace from a dear dead friend in his pocket?

Ethan had taken all of half a second to weigh that risk and accept it.

He stood the chance of making an impact on Daniela – helping her break the tragic cycles of violence she got stuck in. The simple act of trying was enough to make the risk worthwhile. They were friends, one way or another, and that meant something, especially to Daniela. He had to do this.

Ethan closed the short distance between them with languid strides. Daniela watched him all the while as he then got down onto a knee. It put him below Daniela's level. This way, he could look smaller, less threatening and imposing. Anything to try and delay the possible violent spike in her emotions.

Daniela raised her brows, taking a moment to crack a somewhat nervous smile and quip, "My, my, Ethan – you're about to propose to the wrong sister."

Shit.

That wasn't exactly the look he was going for. Still, better than the alternative – spooking her pre-emptively and getting his face broken.

"Dani, could you just… trust me for a second?"

He'd tie the necklace around her wrist and then he could call it a day. Without losing a limb, being smacked around, or a single drop of his blood staining the carpet. Hopefully.

The redhead's big eyes studied him for a while, running over his face in search of any signs of – well, it was hard to say what exactly Daniela was looking for. When she found whatever it was she searched for, she nodded. "Okay."

Daniela was holding onto her palette and brush with one hand, leaving the other free. Slowly – still trying to prolong whatever reaction – Ethan took hold of Daniela's hand; he ignored the fact it was the same hand that could kill him in an instant. Gently, Ethan squeezed her hand, running a thumb over her skin in a – hopefully – calming matter. He reached into his pocket, securing the necklace. With a quiet sigh, Ethan's eyes didn't leave Daniela's as he pulled the jewelry free and prepared to explain his idea.

The wind left Ethan in an instant, as a force constricted his windpipe. His back cried out in pain as he slammed into the support column across the skylight.

In the time Ethan had to blink, he found himself hoisted up and pinned by his neck to the post. Daniela had him up by a single hand, with her face locked into a tight grimace full of pain and rage alike. Tears stung her eyes, and her shout was nearly inaudible, drowned out by the maddening swarm of flies in the air. "Where did you get that?!"

Here we go again.

Ethan's free hand was already up to his neck, fingers desperately trying to worm their way over Daniela's in a feeble attempt at buying himself more oxygen. The other, still clinging onto the necklace, was gripping onto Daniela's arm.

There were numerous instincts that had to be suppressed once more now that Ethan found himself in this position, with survival being the loudest one – that raw animalistic urge to survive at all costs. The lever controlling the skylight was just on the other side of the column. He could easily reach behind himself and flip it – but Ethan was far past that now. The path he set himself on was one he was certain of.

Adrenaline filled his veins, but Ethan's nerves were far cooler this time around – especially since he'd anticipated this risk. He was less tempted to continue trying (and failing) to pry Daniela's fingers off. He didn't feel the overwhelming desire to drive his arm into her elbow and destabilize her grip – giving him the chance he needed to break for freedom.

He'd done this once; he could do it again.

Rather than jam his fingers over Daniela's hold on his neck to relieve the pressure on his carotid arteries, he instead covered her hand completely – forcing the tension to leave his digits. Ethan would have counted his breaths like Chris taught him, but he may just run out of air doing so.

"Dani, you don't need to do this." Ethan managed to gurgle out. It was the lack of oxygen which was making it easier to go limp in her hold. His thumbs gently rubbed against the skin of her hand and her arm respectively. "It's just me, Dani – you know I'm not trying to mess with you. We're friends, remember?"

The more Ethan spoke and held her teary gaze, the quieter the torrent of flies grew. Maybe it was the blood pressure in his head talking, but the tightness around his neck felt like it eased by a smidge.

"Where did you find Maria's necklace?" Daniela asked again, the tears now spilling out.

"Under a shelf," Ethan grunted, "I found it when we split up." He took a moment to gasp for breath, running his hand up and down her arm in slow strokes. "I was just looking for the right time to give it to you."

Daniela was still holding onto her brush and palette when she brought the back of her hand up to scrub at her eyes, which continued to stream with tears. She haphazardly drew a streak of pale paint across her cheek in the process. Her chest rose and fell with sharp, shallow breaths when her gaze fixed onto the necklace. Then they trailed down onto Ethan's hand brushing up and down her arm in his attempt at breaking through to her.

And then her watery gaze traveled further still, over to Ethan's arms now, and the assortment of scars they held – scars that Daniela herself had carved into his flesh with her teeth

Then she let him go.

Ethan's feet hit the ground and his knees nearly buckled on landing. It was only through grabbing at the post behind him that he could stay upright as he gasped for breath, coughing as the air filled his lungs once again. He had a hand massaging his neck as Daniela stumbled a few unsteady paces backward. She kept her hand – the one that had nearly throttled the life out of him – close to her chest. She stared at it with wide eyes, as if it wasn't her hand at all. The swarm of flies had been abruptly reeled in. For the moment, the library was deathly still.

He meant to speak first, only for Daniela to wail, "I nearly hurt you again."

"But you didn't." Ethan's voice was hoarse and gravelly, yet he went on, "That's all that matters."

Ethan took a step forward to reach for her, only for Daniela to retreat a step back. Her wide eyes continued to streak with tears as she sobbed, firmly shaking her head in the negative. With a shuddering breath, she told him, "I don't want to hurt you, Ethan"

Even with the sandpaper in his voice, Ethan said, "You won't."

He was met with a humorless laugh which needed no translation. The irony of him saying that after nearly getting his neck broken was not lost to Ethan.

Rather than acknowledge Ethan's misplaced confidence in her, Daniela swallowed to steady her voice, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Clearing his throat, Ethan felt his voice mostly back to normal. "No harm done. Mostly." Before Daniela could interject, he raised the necklace up, nodding his head towards it. "Do you mind if I give this to you? I have an idea that might help."

Daniela scrutinized Ethan for another long moment, even as she struggled to reel in her sobs. Her eyes went to the necklace next, and the gears in her head struggled to turn – to understand what was going on. Finally, she nodded her head, and no longer stepped back in response to Ethan's advance.

"That stuff in my head," Ethan motioned accordingly, "When it gets out of hand, it usually helps when… outside stimulus breaks me out of it." He came to a stop in front of Daniela and held his hand out. "Before, it was Mia. She'd call out to me. Hold me. It helped."

Now, it was Bela and her supportive squeeze of the arm or shoulder. It was her kind voice which pierced the darkness. Not that he'd tell Daniela that.

"Trust me, Dani. Please." Ethan kept his hand aloft, waiting on her next move.

With shaky breaths, Daniela raised her hand, allowing Ethan to continue where he'd left off. "The lock's broken," Ethan explained as he draped the chain around her wrist. He looped it over several times before securing it with a simple knot. "But around your wrist, it can dangle and make some noise. It's not a lot, but," His fingers ran over all the delicate links of chain. He squeezed her hand one last time before releasing her. "Every little bit helps."

It left Daniela to stare at the jewelry on her wrist, still darkened by dried blood – which, in hindsight, should have been washed off first. She turned her hand over experimentally, allowing the makeshift bracelet to jingle and tinkle accordingly.

"If stuff gets bad, try to look out for that sound." Ethan ducked his head to meet Daniela's gaze. "Remember what's making that sound." With a breath, Ethan added, "Remember who died to give you this reminder, so that you won't do it again."

Daniela nodded sharply but didn't respond verbally – her throat likely still too tight from the resurgence of grief and remorse – but her sight never left Ethan, and she clung onto every word he said. It prompted him to continue, "When you start to come to your senses, I want you to take some deep breaths, okay?"

Chris goddamn Redfield and his breathing exercises strike again. When they finally met again, Ethan owed the guy a thank you, right before he punched Chris in the teeth.

"Try it with me now – inhale, count to four," The beats passed in turn, and Ethan guided Daniela along. His hand came up in gesture, holding in place, before turning and lowering to signal, "Exhale, count to four."

As they repeated the cycle a few more times, Daniela's sobs diminished, and her breathing steadied out. She took the time to wipe at her tear-streaked face now that her emotions had stabilized. It smudged the paint on her face even further. With a tentative smile, she spoke quietly, "Thank you."

Ethan nodded, but felt the need to really drive the point home. He told her, "I want you to really try to remember that the next time things get bad, okay?"

"I will," Daniela nodded, "I promise."

Cracking a smile, Ethan recalled their earlier exchanges, and extended his pinky finger – the sure fire way to bind Daniela to her obligation. "Pinky promise?"

She giggled in response, accepting the pinky promise with her signature firm three shakes.

When their fingers came free, Ethan felt the messy paint on Daniela's face was best off being cleaned. He extended his hand to her face, wiping the tears and the paint alike from her cheek. Once her skin was free of paint, Ethan gently pulled Daniela in for a hug – to show there were no hard feelings, and since the woman very clearly needed it. She wrapped her arms around his midsection, pressing her face into his sweater – the same damn sweater she picked out for him on Bela's request.

He took his time alternating between rubbing and patting Daniela's back. After a heavy sigh, she spoke up, her voice soft, "I don't even trust myself, Ethan. I don't know why you trust me. You should run away. The farther the better."

Bela's reformation was what came to mind. Going from being the most brutal and sadistic sister to the kind angel of mercy he now knew – she was living evidence that people could change. If she could start to change, even before Ethan came along and when her memories returned, then anyone could.

Ethan told her as much, "Everyone's capable of change, Dani. I trust you to try."

"I'll try," Daniela nodded against his sweater. Slowly, she peeled herself off him, looking him in the eyes as she repeated with a sniffle, "I'll try. Thank you for believing in me, Ethan."

They remained in place for a while longer. Ethan rocked them side to side in gentle sways until the last of Daniela's sniffling eased away. Before long, they were parked back in their previous seats. With a paintbrush in hand, Daniela's mood was easing back into the up and up. The familiar, easygoing smile settled back onto her face, and the last bits of tension trickled out of her frame. Once again, it was as if the close call hadn't at all happened.

Ethan didn't dwell on it much more than he already had. The upside to Daniela's sensitive emotional triggers was that things could also go from bad to good in the blink of an eye. The mood swings weren't exclusive to the negative side of things. It was a part of her that one had to come to terms with when deciding to be her friend.

(And that was already ignoring the insanity of consciously and deliberately befriending his captors.)

Ethan instead put to use the wide array of pencils provided to him. The initial shapes and outlines gained more definition as time rolled by, and the sun overhead trailed across the sky. The days were short this time of year, and evening wasn't far off, if the light above was anything to go by.

The relaxed smile never left Daniela's features as Ethan frequently looked her way for reference. The only shift in her expression was her tongue occasionally peeking out between her lips in a show of utmost concentration. Ethan decided to include that little quirk of hers to really cement her likeness to the paper. The softer, darker pencils got their mileage from the intricate shading that went into the portrait. Daniela's face was softer and rounder than that of her sisters, Ethan idly noted. It certainly lent to the image of her being the youngest sibling.

The strokes of Ethan's pencil grew rough by the time the library dimmed, giving way to the evening. The hours passed in relative silence compared to their earlier chatter. The both of them had been thoroughly engrossed in their art, now that they had the time to do so.

With her face, neck, and that intricate choker completed, Ethan took the time roughing in the upper parts of her dress. Before long, he retracted the tip of his pencil from the page, leaned back, and sighed. He pursed his lips and blew onto the paper to get rid of any stray bits of graphite – just to be sure nothing would smudge the drawing. Daniela went through similar motions, and the grin she wore looked quite pleased with herself. She set her palette and brushes aside, turning to Ethan expectantly – likely deducing he'd just finished as well.

"Time for show and tell, Ethan," Daniela smiled, the giddiness already seeping into her voice, "Shall I go first?"

"Sure." Ethan flexed his fingers, now stiff from the hours of handling pencils.

Daniela hopped off the stool. Her smile took a nervous edge to it, not unlike any other artist unveiling their work. With a hand on either side of the easel, she drew in a small breath, and gave a quick, sharp nod. Daniela turned the entire stand around, revealing the canvas.

After seeing Maria's portrait, Ethan really shouldn't have been surprised by the sheer caliber of Daniela's skill. But he was blown away just the same seeing his face so precisely replicated in acrylic and committed to the canvas.

Ethan had forgotten just how rough he was looking. Daniela had not at all shied away from making the portrait as faithful to his present self as possible. His dirty blonde hair was messy. Even if Ethan had no mirror in his cell, he was fairly sure it looked this way around the clock. He had neglected to buy a comb or a brush from the Duke, and he had a track record of having a bad bedhead when waking. The ordeal in the dungeons hadn't done his appearance any favors, and it was only in Daniela's painting did he realize a few stray specks of blood were still in his hair.

His brow was furrowed, even in the painting. It was a look of concentration, Ethan realized – something he wasn't quite aware of when he really focused in on his own drawing. Even his black eye was faithfully splotched with purples and blues in Daniela's rendition of him.

When he squinted, Ethan could even make out the rough stubble that prickled his face now that it'd been nearly two weeks since he had seen a razor.

It was a masterpiece, down to the smallest detail.

Ethan let out a breath.

"So, what do you think?" Daniela ran a hand through her hair before they locked once more before her, fingers rubbing up against one another.

He may as well have been looking at a mirror and not acrylic on canvas. Daniela's skill with a brush was unparalleled. It was astounding what the woman could create when she wasn't obsessively rearranging her library, or triple-checking her lighting fixtures. If these paintings got into the outside world, they would occupy a gallery of their own.

"Holy shit," Was all he could say at first. Ethan didn't think it was possible, but Daniela grinned even wider. There was a twinkle of pride in her eye, which was a good look on her – on someone burdened by so much weight and struggling to be herself. It was nice to see her happy with herself.

"That's just – wow," Ethan laughed softly, "It's beautiful. Next level stuff right there, Dani. Great work."

Daniela gave a deep curtsy, bowing her head in the process. "Thank you." When their eyes met once more, there was nothing but gratitude and happiness in her eyes.

Considering how secluded Daniela kept herself, she probably got little praise for her artwork. Her sisters might be too preoccupied or too uninterested, while their mother was busy as always doing whatever it was with Miranda. The maids had their hands full trying not to lose their heads – they had little time to stop and admire the art.

"Your turn!" Daniela bounced off the balls of her feet and came to a stop at the center of the skylight. Her hands clasped together in front of her – almost as if to contain her own mounting excitement and failing miserably.

Ethan glanced once at the sketchpad on his lap. While he wouldn't say it was his finest work – he simply wasn't used to working on a surface this large, and his sense of scale may have been skewed in the slightest – he was certain he'd done a good job regardless. Taking a breath, Ethan turned the sketchbook around for Daniela to see.

Daniela's big, wide eyes studied the page for a second, running all over it – drinking in the sight of her face etched in graphite onto paper. The serene smile on her face widened, and her eyes full of joy finally landed back on Ethan.

And then Daniela was on Ethan's lap before he could blink, wrapping him up in a tight hug as a small excitable swarm of flies buzzed above. The chair rocked back from the speed and abruptness of the movement. For a split second, all Ethan could see was red hair in his face, and the open space of the skylight in front of them.

The glimmer of gold from the lever called out to him when it entered his field of vision once more.

It was easy.

It was really just too easy to give into his baser instincts.

Daniela was vulnerable – exceedingly so, in this position. The sun was almost completely out of sight now as evening was setting in. The only thing separating the library from the frigid winter evening was a thin pane of glass, ready to be rolled away at the pull of the lever.

Even if the cold didn't weaken her as much as he was counting on, Ethan could assume it would at least stun her. He didn't even need the scalpel. A pencil into the windpipe or eye socket would do the trick. His hands snapping her neck would be equally effective.

The fight would be over before it started, and Daniela would barely even have time to process her demise.

There was a darkness within Ethan, born from the Baker House. That saying that when gazing into the abyss long enough, the abyss gazes back – Ethan knew from experience how much truth it held.

That part of him was molded and given form in those agonizing moments surrounded by screaming, killing, and death in Louisiana. He wasn't at all unaware of its presence. It thrived on the chaotic energy of life-or-death threats – when the only way to survive was through sheer force of will and utter, unmatched levels of violence.

It was that same part of him that took over only earlier today in the bowels of the castle. With his back to the wall and the ghouls outnumbering him nearly a dozen-to-one – Ethan felt at home, if only for several brief, mind-numbingly clear moments. When death was near, it thrived – that dark passenger of his, if he wanted to borrow from Dexter. Even right now, it was only a pull of the lever away.

Yet Ethan would also hazard to say it wasn't darkness at all – it wasn't some cartoonish evil side to himself that lurked just below the surface. It wasn't the Hyde to his Jekyll. It was just the pure, unadulterated drive to survive at all costs – no matter who had to be put in the ground for him to live. It was the same instinct that lived in every human being – to survive and struggle in the face of adversity.

In the end, Ethan knew he wouldn't do it. He'd had all the opportunities to pull that lever, and he never took them. Pulling that lever wasn't him. Not now, not ever.

Trauma was one hell of a thing, filling his mind with the thoughts of gruesome violence – painting in blood the possible paths he could take to secure his freedom. Ethan knew it was a relief he wasn't too far gone. He could acknowledge those thoughts before locking them in a box and hiding them away, never to see the light of day.

It was too easy to slip and lose himself to the mindless violence as a means to an end. Before everything went to shit all over again, he'd had Mia, and even Chris to help temper him. Ethan had to wonder if Cassandra had ever been at those crossroads, threatening to dive into the brutality and depravity. Had she stepped back from the edge a hundred times, only to one day take the plunge and never look back? If Daniela's stories had weight – and Ethan didn't doubt her – then it may have been Bela's fault for sending Cassandra down her path.

It wasn't something he would find out soon. That much Ethan knew. All Ethan did know was that he would not kill Daniela. Despite the quickening of his heart, and his pulse pounding all the way into his ears – there was an absolute certainty to it – Daniela would not die. Not by his hand. Not now, not ever.

Daniela could change. She had been trying to, even before Ethan arrived – considering she'd been isolating in her library for some time now. It was only her vicious loops and triggers which kept her trapped and failing to make progress. It would never be a straight or linear path – since when was change ever that simple? But she could change, and that was what mattered. She could try and that was more than enough for Ethan. Beneath the swarm of flies, the compulsive behaviors, and the violent mood swings – there was a sweet, kind soul – damaged and hurt as it was after nourishing on blood and death for so long.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel for her. As far away and heavily obscured as it may be, Ethan clutched onto it for her sake, fiercely.

"It's perfect," Daniela mumbled into the fabric of Ethan's sweater.

Ethan gave a breathless laugh in response. He gently pried himself free of Daniela's tight hold, still hanging onto the sketchpad with his left hand. She went along, pulling back to look at him, setting her hands on his shoulders. Tears brimmed at her eyes as she smiled at him.

"What's wrong?" Ethan asked.

"Nothing's wrong," Daniela was quick to answer, shaking her head. She blinked quickly, sending a few of the tears trickling down her cheeks. "I am just," She let out a slight laugh, shrugging her shoulders a little. "I'm happy."

Licking her lips, Daniela added, "I am happy that mother allowed me to borrow you, even if only for today." Her eyes fell to the hem of his sweater, and one hand went to rub over the heart stitched into the fabric. "Our time together is very special to me. It's nice to not be alone."

Ethan felt his heart break for Daniela all over again. He hardly knew how much freedom of movement he would have in twenty-four hours, but he told her just the same, "Let's see if I can visit you again tomorrow. How does that sound?"

Daniela wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, still smiling all the while as she answered, "That sounds delightful." She set her hand back down on Ethan's shoulder, sliding it over to the side of his neck. "You're a good man, Ethan." Daniela trailed her hand up his neck until it settled on his cheek. Her thumb brushed at the dull splotch in his skin – now healed over after Cassandra had struck him with his own gun.

"Bela is lucky to have you."

It was a moot point to try and convince Daniela that Bela did not have him in any sense of the word.

"I think…" Daniela started and stopped, her lips remaining parted for a moment as she struggled to find the words. Her eyes ran over Ethan, appearing distant as she spoke, "I think I would like to have someone like you someday." Daniela's wistful voice was soft, and the familiar melancholia crept into her smile. "Someday when…" Her hand came free from his face, and she gestured towards her head, "When I'm a little better up there."

Ethan cracked a smile and hedged on lightening the mood. "Hey – a lady like you? I'm sure we'll find you a boyfriend in no time. Shit, I might even have to beat some of them back with a stick just to get you some breathing room."

Daniela giggled, slowly easing back and putting a little more space between them. "Is that so? Will you…" She licked her lips and her eyes went to the side for a beat – as though picking through her words, "Will you wingman for me?"

It got a short laugh from Ethan, and he shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah. Got lots of experience doing that back in college. We'll land you some nerd like me, just you wait. Libraries are crawling with them."

Chances were slim that he could get Daniela to meet someone over a round of beer pong, but he'd try.

Maybe they'd have more luck with blood pong.

Daniela laughed as she removed herself from her perch atop Ethan's lap. She ruffled his already messy hair before bending down to plant a quick kiss to the top of his head. "Never change, Ethan Winters."

Ethan made a show of grimacing in response to the display of affection, eliciting another giggle from Daniela. He took that time to extend the portrait for her to take. With a courteous smile, she accepted the sketchpad, admiring it once more. "Thank you so much, Ethan. I'll find a nice spot for this," She craned her head – surveying the library around them. Then with a slight shrug, added, "Maybe in the atelier."

"The what?" Ethan asked.

Daniela repeated, "The atelier – it's where I do most of my painting." She took hold of her portrait of Ethan with ease, lifting it off the easel. With a tilt of her head towards the last mystery exit of the library, she said, "Come, I'll show you!"

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Do be sure to drop some faves and follows, and leave me a review to let me know how you found this chapter!

Merry Christmas, gang! Sorry for the delay here. I was (and am) dealing with some major burnout, but was able to recently find some room to breathe, and then to write. I made sure to get this update up *at least* in time before the new year. If things go as planned, I should be able to hit a semi-regular schedule of weekly to bi-weekly for the next few chapters, at least. No promises.

As always, I like exploring Ethan's trauma from the Baker House and his little 'dark passenger' that comes out when things go rough. But as Ethan acknowledges it, it's not like Dexter's burning desire to snuff out life, channeled into killing bad people. Ethan's is just his survival instincts but cranked up to 11 and breaking the scale. The sudden realization that he has the upper hand over Daniela is what procs the PTSD-fueled survival mode. Similar to the window moment with Bela, but here Dani is completely unaware of what's going through Ethan's head. Then, since Ethan is on that pacifist any% playthrough, he's able to talk himself down the first time after hearing Daniela's honest happiness, and the second time it's even easier to lock the thoughts away after acknowledging them.

In my original outline, there were only supposed to be 1-2 Daniela chapters, but then all of this happened. I hope you're enjoying all the relationship building and character exploration with Ethan and Dani. We'll see Bela dearest soon enough.

I think that's all I have for now. Thank you all once again for all the support and patience, I truly appreciate it more than I can express. I'll start sending out replies to the last wave of reviews in a bit. Take care now, and have a good holiday!