Ethan awoke with an inaudible gasp and the phantom taste of Mia's blood on his lips; her lifeless form was seared into his vision, even as he blinked his surroundings into focus.

It took Ethan a conscious effort to release his iron grip on the bedsheets – Bela's bedsheets he soon realized. He scrubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, slowly sitting up as he drew in shaky breaths.

A glance to his right revealed Bela was still sound asleep, now having rolled onto her side to face him. She had one arm tucked underneath her head as she dozed away on her pillow. Her face was free from any signs of tension or unease, appearing to be deeply and contentedly asleep.

Ethan took in long, deep breaths to keep his heart from leaping right out of his ribcage. He surveyed the room around him, waiting for his pulse to stop pounding its erratic beat against his eardrums.

Bela's bedroom was darker than when he'd fallen asleep. The fireplace had burned low, casting little light and spreading meager warmth to their surroundings.

The familiar tightness in Ethan's throat, and the sweat gathering beneath his palms were not unfamiliar sensations – especially in the throes of grief he'd been enduring the past weeks. Sleep would not come easy to him so soon. He knew his grief and his frazzled mind well enough by now, having gone through countless sleepless nights when Mia was presumed dead years ago. Ethan would keep himself busy in the meantime instead.

Ethan navigated out from under the covers, moving slowly to avoid waking Bela. He approached the dying embers of fire and took a log from the iron firewood basket, adding the fuel to the low flames. The poker leaned on the wall just to the side of the fireplace, and Ethan soon took hold of it, using it to stoke the fire. An occasional glance was sent over his shoulder – just to make sure he wasn't making too much noise that may stir Bela from her slumber. But she remained deeply asleep, which was little surprise when considering how long she had been awake.

A part of Ethan had been hoping that sleeping by Bela's side would alleviate him of his nightly terrors. It had worked once, after all. But it was foolish to think Bela's mere presence would banish all the nightmares. She was a soothing presence, yes – and the effect she had on him was nearly supernatural. Despite that, trauma was still trauma, and Mia's death would continue to haunt him for years – if not the rest of his waking and unwaking life. Ethan had little doubt of that. He could at least take solace in the fact that Bela made it easier to deal with the nightmares.

The flames danced with life, and the comforting warmth was permeating the bedroom by the time Ethan finished tending to the fire. He set the fire poker back down and sighed, turning to face the rest of the room.

Ethan's anxious heart raced no longer, and his clammy, trembling hands regained a sense of stability. He could go back to bed now, but Ethan was well aware of his restlessness. He would be tossing and turning for at least an hour before sleep would take him. All the movement may just disturb Bela, and the last thing he wanted was to interrupt the sleep she so desperately needed.

Ethan clasped his hands behind his head, and his legs began moving with a mind of their own; they savored the relatively open area he could pace. His cage had little in the way of space, and so any pacing he'd done nights ago did little to ease his mind.

Back when Mia was first presumed dead, nighttime walks had been a regular pastime of his. If staring at the pores of his white bedroom wall for hours on end could not put him to sleep, he would go walking instead. With nothing but the still-busy streets of California and the light-polluted night sky to keep him company, it was easy to drown the suffocating thoughts.

A nighttime walk in the Romanian countryside didn't sound half bad. The stars would actually be visible; if sufficiently layered, the crisp, cold night air would be refreshing. You only had to ignore the lycans – but Ethan supposed that wasn't all too different from avoiding getting mugged in the sketchier parts of town.

Although muggers typically would not shoot arrows at him or try to eat him alive – but you could never be sure of that when taking a stroll through crackhead avenue in the dead of night.

Ethan shook his head to himself as he found his feet had brought him right to the door leading to the dungeons. As they'd established earlier, the door was locked – but only on the other side. Ethan could easily slip out like a thief in the night and Bela would be none the wiser. Since Ethan had no reason to do so, he instead stepped away from the door. Pacing the dungeons or the first floor of the castle while unaccompanied was just asking for trouble.

Eventually, Ethan's restless legs brought him back to Bela's dresser on the right side of her bed. He moved to retrieve his journal, only for his hand to pause over the cover. He glanced at the dresser drawer – the one Bela had stashed the framed photo within and promptly locked. A stray tingle in his brain urged him to investigate, but he refrained.

The urge could whisper in his ear all it wanted, but the drawer was locked. It would not be unlocked unless Ethan broke the lock outright, and Bela's trust along with it. No information was worth ruining the trust he'd built with Bela.

Leaving the drawer untouched, Ethan returned to Bela's desk. He pulled up a chair, taking care not to drag it along the floor. Once he took a seat, he reached for the oil lamp. Ethan spared Bela a glance as he brought the low flame to a dim light – enough to see and write, but not enough to cast any substantial brightness towards Bela.

Ethan got cracking. With a small, lopsided smile on his face, he marked tonight's entry:

February 22 / Middle of the Night / Bela's Bedroom

To the best of his recollection, Ethan chronicled the recent events, starting with his encounter with Tatyana, his virtual face-to-face with Chris, and his argument with Bela. His pen darted across the pages, scribbling at a pace to match his racing mind. This was the first time since the argument that he had been able to truly sit down with his thoughts. Those thoughts invariably flowed straight onto the paper, interspersed with his more objective retelling of the past two days. Without Cassandra and Daniela trying to either kill or maim him, the thoughts were committed to paper with ease.

As page after page was filled with words, Ethan found himself flipping back to earlier entries. Early on, he had drawn a rough system map of the whole shebang. There had been many blanks then. Now, thanks to Bela, the pieces were falling into place. He had a greater understanding of the valley and its key players. Many of those tasks he'd once written down were checked off, and he wrote his updated answers.

Find out why Chris killed Mia but not me. – Still a mystery.

Find out why Chris took Rose and gave her to the Dimitrescu House. – Miranda ambushed Chris' convoy to kidnap Rose for study; Rose was given to Lady Dimitrescu for safekeeping.

If Chris didn't give Rose up, then how did the Dimitrescu House get her? – Miranda handed Rose directly to Lady Dimitrescu after the ambush.

Find out what the Dimitrescu House wants with Rose. – Dimitrescus have nothing to do with Rose personally. They're holding onto her because she can't be safely transferred to Miranda.

Find out where Rose is in this castle. – She's being kept in Lady Dimitrescu's personal quarters.

Figure out the involvement of this Mother Miranda person – Miranda's the big bitch in charge, and all the four Lords answer to her. Miranda wants Rose because she thinks Rose inherited mold powers from Mia and me.

Figure out what that weird whirring sound is. – Hound Wolf Squad sent a drone in to watch me. Don't know how often they've been observing and what they've seen so far though.

Figure out Bela's alternate motives (if any) for taking care of me. – Bela's solid. She cares.

Dig a little deeper into Bela's past. – She was some sort of village doctor in life, a long, long time ago. At some point, she was turned into a bug-woman along with Daniela and Cassandra. Lady Dimitrescu took them in as her daughters. Both Daniela and Cassandra have mentioned Bela's darker past. Still no full insight on that.

Convince Bela to give me more freedom of movement around the castle. – Pretty sure I could do cartwheels around the great hall if I wanted to. I've got full freedom of movement while Bela's asleep in her room.

Escape with Rose. – Castle vicinity is crawling with freaks. Escape is no bueno for now. Biding my time until I can slip out of here with Rose, probably with Chris' and/or Bela's help. Sitting tight and developing the situation for now.

Survive. – Absolutely fuck this entire valley, but I'm thriving at the moment. Hoping I don't jinx it.

When Ethan exhausted his thoughts and his hand was ready to start cramping, he set his pen down. He flexed his stiff fingers as he leafed through his journal.

His thoughts had shifted greatly in the past two weeks. That was something Ethan was already fully aware of, but to see it committed to writing was different – as though it made the passage of time and the morphing of his mindset all the more real. From planning to leverage Bela's kindness into securing Rose, to gripping onto her hair and telling her that his blood was hers – Ethan would be carted straight to the loony bin when this was all over.

Of course, Ethan would tell the BSAA-appointed therapist that falling for Bela –

Ethan cleared his throat, shaking his head to himself.

Falling for Bela's kindness was the most natural reaction for anyone placed in his shoes. It could be chalked up to Stockholm Syndrome, but it was far more complicated than that, especially when you accounted for Bela being in as deep as he was.

Blowing out a slight sigh, Ethan shut the journal. He leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin on top of his knuckles. If he were back in his old place, he'd pull up a book from the closest shelf, or maybe switch the TV on – anything to stifle the thoughts bouncing around his skull. In Castle Dimitrescu, picking a book out to read appeared to be his best bet for killing time until the drowsiness set back in.

Hours ago, Bela had cleared space for them to eat, nudging some notebooks aside in the process. Ethan's curious eyes located them shortly, now that he was back here at the desk. Bela had taken a peek at one notebook in particular before setting it aside – the simple black notebook sitting an arm's length away.

Ethan's hand was halfway towards the book when he paused.

Bela had not locked the notebooks away into a drawer. That was a notable distinction over the framed photo in her dresser. With Ethan's burning curiosity leading the way, now fully awake at nearly three in the morning, he rationalized that a quick peep wouldn't hurt. If contents were sensitive, she would have locked them away. And if they were personal writings, like a diary, Ethan resolved to close the notebook and avoid snooping further. Given the notebook's proximity to all her science equipment, Ethan was willing to bet the writings within would be professional – research notes of some sort.

His mind made up, Ethan slid the notebook closer to take a look, running his fingers over the blank cover. Turning to the first page revealed no personalization or fanfare. It was simply blank. The ruled pages that followed were anything but.

Bela wrote in shorthand. Ethan raised his brows at that – something he had not expected after receiving so many notes in looping cursive. He may as well have been trying to read words in Cyrillic, or trying to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphics written by a drunkard with a broken hand.

Ethan turned his head towards Bela, still turned on her side with her back to him. Of course someone like Bela wrote in shorthand for personal notes. That big brain of hers probably ran a mile a minute – far faster than the dusty Pentium III in Ethan's noggin. It was only natural that she had adopted a writing system to keep up with her rapid thoughts.

Taking care with each page, Ethan leafed through the notebook, searching for anything readable. The notebook could contain the secret to immortality, or nuclear launch codes, and Ethan would be none the wiser. He was halfway through the notebook when he spotted some honest to God English in Bela's familiar elegant cursive.

It was a transcription, copied word for word from elsewhere. The original text was dated to 1958.

Similar body structure to blow flies, although there are differences in the head. They are carnivorous and vigorously consume meat. In order to catch unsuspecting prey, they'll gather using pheromones to mimic a human. They are produced when a Cadou lays eggs in its host, while the flies themselves are only capable of limited reproduction. Perhaps instinctively, the flies never reproduce to grow beyond the size of their colony at maturity.

They are weak to sudden drops in temperature. Especially if the temperature drops below 10C (50F), their metabolism lowers and they go into a dormant, cryptobiotic state. Similar to the cryptobiosis of Tardigrade or Polypedilum vanderplanki?

Ethan leaned back on the padded chair, head tilted in thought.

The research notes were about the Dimitrescu sisters' unique family of flies – there was no doubt about that. But these were not Bela's own findings. She would have written these in shorthand and would not be writing in third person if that was the case. This was her copy of someone else's notes on the flies. Even if Lady Dimitrescu apparently helped with the Cadou mutations, she did not strike Ethan as the type to be jotting down the unpronounceable scientific names at the end of the transcription. The most likely researcher was Miranda.

Ethan's synapses were firing off one after the other now. The date gave a still rough but more precise time frame of when it was Bela had turned into a bug-woman. There was more confirmation to what he already knew – such as the meat eating and the flies. It was interesting to note the specific threshold of cold they could tolerate. Any slight breeze in this frosty season would harm the daughters. Hell – throwing a jar of ice cream would be enough to scar any of their pretty faces. They were prisoners to this castle just like he was, but at least he could actually see the bars keeping him caged.

Ethan could hazard to guess that it was only out of loyalty to Miranda that the Dimitrescu family had not packed up and moved to the Bahamas – or somewhere else where the weather would not try to kill them. Lady Dimitrescu wasn't winning any Mother of the Year awards any time soon while she kept her daughters somewhere so inhospitable for their condition.

"Find anything interesting, little one?"

Ethan nearly leapt out of the chair in surprise to hear Bela's voice break the silence.

Bela was turned to face him now, propped up on one elbow and resting her chin in her hand. Her messy blonde hair cascaded down one side of her face, and she wore a wide grin; Bela appeared highly pleased with herself for surprising him.

"Jesus Christ – you scared the crap outta me." Ethan placed a hand over his now rapidly beating heart.

Bela giggled, rolling her eyes at him. Then she pointedly looked at her notebook – still splayed open – and then back at Ethan. She raised an eyebrow in silent question.

Right. Caught snooping again.

"I'm sorry." Ethan closed the notebook. "I should've asked."

Bela shook her head. "It's fine. I had a feeling you would give my notes a peek sooner or later. No worries."

"Did I wake you?" Ethan briefly turned his attention to the low flame of the oil lantern, and the not-so-low flame of the newly stoked fireplace.

"You know, you are quite warm when you aren't suffering from early-stage hypothermia." Bela cracked a smile at the half scoff, half laugh Ethan released. "I may have realized my new space heater was missing from under the covers."

With a displeased scrunch of his nose, Ethan remarked, "I think I prefer 'puppy' over 'space heater.'"

It drew a smile from Bela. She allowed a moment to pass before she asked, "Did something wake you?"

"Bad dream," Ethan muttered, then spoke up, "Needed to stretch my legs a little. Warmed up the fire while I was at it." To turn it back towards Bela, he asked, "How long have you been watching me snoop?"

Slowly, Bela pushed herself up into sitting. "Just a few minutes. You appeared quite deep in thought, and I did not wish to disturb you. What were you reading?" Bela stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. She bent her neck side to side, stretching. "Can you even read any of that?"

"Most of it might as well be Latin to me," Ethan admitted. He picked the notebook up and leafed to the transcription. He faced the pages to Bela and told her, "Only got to make this out."

Bela narrowed her eyes, leaning over by a fraction to get a look at the writing. It only took her a moment to note the lack of shorthand on the ruled page. Recognition lit up her eyes. "Oh," There was a mischievous tilt of her head, "I did not realize you were so interested in my biology, Ethan."

"Hardy-har-har." Keeping them on track, Ethan asked, "This is a copy, right? From someone else's notes?"

"Miranda's research." Bela sat up fully now. She paused only to stretch some more, and to suppress another yawn. "I found the loose scraps of notes she'd left behind in the dungeons. That was quite some time ago."

"So Miranda…" Ethan felt it was a poor choice of words, but lacked anything better, "Miranda created you and your sisters?"

Bela turned, allowing her bare feet to land on the carpeted floor. She stared at the intricate patterns on the carpet for a while longer before sighing. Her answer was heavy with frustration and melancholy alike. "She turned us into what we are now, yes."

Ethan's curiosity was like a shark that had smelled blood – and it was almost immediately when he followed up to ask, "Do your sisters know that?"

Bela raised a languid hand to rub the sleepiness from her eyes. "We never quite discussed it. But they are smart enough to have deduced that by now. We are obviously not mother's biological daughters." She gestured to their surroundings as she continued, "There are only so many people in this valley who are experimenting and creating all sorts of…" Her voice softened, and her eyes looked anywhere but Ethan, "well, monsters."

"You're not a monster." Ethan's reply was swift.

Bela did not acknowledge his words. She instead mused out loud, "A colony of carnivorous flies in the flawless imitation of a human." Ethan curiously watched Bela as she stood up and rounded the bed, padding over to her wardrobe. Bela's wording was very particular, and it only served to further pique Ethan's interest.

"Flawless imitation of a human," Ethan repeated. "How flawless are we talking?"

Opening the doors of her wardrobe, Bela cast a look over her shoulder. "No looking."

It took a second for Ethan to make the connection. He averted his gaze, facing the desk and the open notebook on the surface. The sound of rustling clothes grew audible as Bela spoke up, "Flawless, as in if you put me under a microscope, you would not be able to tell me apart from any other human." A pause, more swishing of cloth, and a soft grunt. "Unless you know what to look for, anyway. Only someone knowledgeable of the mold and the Cadou would be able to differentiate me from a normal person, even at the cellular level."

Ethan pursed his lips, recalling the little Bela had told him of the Cadou on their first night together – how it was some sort of parasite born from the mold. "You got all the guts and normal bits of any regular person then?" He felt it was worth asking. Aside from the lycans, anything remotely mold-related did not look anywhere near normal on the inside.

When Jack Baker's upper torso exploded in a shower of gore – the entire sequence was still seared into Ethan's memory – his insides were a mess of blood and black mold. It wasn't something he had put any thought into at the time. But in the aftermath, in the countless nightmares that followed, Ethan noticed a distinct lack of bones and shredded organs in the mess that remained of Jack. On the outside, he looked like a person (deranged as he was), but on the inside, he was just mold.

The question prompted another pause from Bela as the rustle of clothes continued. When the soft sound ceased, it was replaced by Bela's gentle footsteps on the approach. "I have the internal anatomy of a human, if that is what you're asking. Digestive track, cardiovascular system, skeleton – the works."

By the time Bela finished speaking, she arrived by Ethan's side at the desk, looking to claim her usual chair.

Bela had changed into a familiar silky white nightgown that fell to just above her knees. It was the same one she had worn during their first night together, Ethan realized.

He tried not to stare – he really did.

(Not really.)

Bela was a lot to take in. From the long legs crossing over one another as she sat down – to the curvy figure, just barely contained by her low-cut neckline, and to her toned, slender shoulders – she was breathtaking. Ethan's throat seized up just looking at her. He averted his eyes from her body before his mouth got any drier.

Bela's stunning figure was not quite what he had in mind when he meant to discuss her biology.

Ethan felt that settling his eyes on Bela's face was a safer bet – but then there she was, illuminated by the flickering fire and looking like a goddess with her cascading blonde hair, and her very full, very kissable lips. She was a marble statue come to life, her beauty sculpted by the great Italian artists of old – yet even Michelangelo and Donatello could never achieve the perfection that was Bela Dimitrescu.

Ethan swallowed hard and cleared his throat. He kept his eyes trained on the notebook instead as he had to take a moment to wonder when it was he became so damn starstruck by Bela. The seconds ticked by in silence before Ethan found his voice and asked, "How does that work when you shift into those flies? What happens to all the… y'know – the inside bits."

"What?" Bela laughed softly, "Are you asking why I do not leave my ribcage behind when I transform?"

Well, when she put it like that, Ethan muttered, "I mean – yeah, I guess."

Bela raised one shoulder in a shrug, head tilted in consideration. "It is difficult to explain. If I had to make a comparison… imagine the states of matter."

It was simple enough – something even Ethan remembered from his early days in school. "Sure… solid, liquid, gas."

"And plasma," Bela added.

"God, you're such a nerd."

Bela scoffed, "I have met toddlers more mature than you, Ethan Winters."

After an eyeroll here and a soft laugh there, Bela got them back on track. "Anyway, in my case, the states of my biomatter are this," She motioned to her body, and Ethan made it a point not to look, "and the flies. Everything transforms with me from one state to another."

Ethan finally turned Bela's way, making sure his eyes fixed to hers. His cheeks warmed just to think of giving her another once-over. "Unless it's cold?"

Bela nodded. "The cold renders me unable to shift the state of my biomatter. The flies go into cryptobiosis, as you have read." Bela placed a hand over her arm, and the healing scar tissue. "That is how I got this scratch. My swarm was unable to displace to avoid the attack."

The new scar on Bela's arm got Ethan's attention. It appeared as it had earlier, on the road to recovery now. He had to wonder if the scar would vanish completely one day.

Though Bela's choice of wording – the swarm 'displacing,' got his attention. "Is that how you and your sisters avoid getting hurt when it's not cold?"

"Mhm," Bela hummed. "The swarm shifts on instinct to avoid the danger. Like…" She shrugged, "Displacing to avoid a bullet. Or dispersing to spread out the force of impact from a punch."

That explained how Cassandra walked out of their brawl without a scratch, even after he stuck a knife into her neck half a dozen times.

"You said it's all instinctive. Could you consciously make the swarm… y'know, not do that?" Ethan asked.

Bela tilted her head side to side slowly in consideration. "I suppose I could. Not that it would do me any good."

There was a dumb reference of 'do you bleed?' to be made here somewhere, but Ethan knew it would only go straight over Bela's head. It was fascinating just the same to think Bela could probably bruise and bleed like any normal person – but her body instinctively protected her from that.

"That's pretty cool," Ethan found himself saying, for lack of a better way to put it. "Bug powers would have come in handy in the village, or back before…"

Before, during his jaunt through the hell house in Louisiana.

A soft scoff from Bela, and she retorted, "It is not so 'cool' when you have to consume as much iron and protein as I do."

Right. The bloodsucking was an obvious drawback.

With perfect deadpan delivery, Ethan told her, "Well, you could always start chewing on some loose scrap metal. I'm sure Heisenberg's got some lying around."

"Or," Bela flashed a toothy grin, "I could start chewing on a particularly annoying man-thing."

Ethan raised his hands up in surrender, wearing a small smile as he parsed Bela's words. Nigh invincibility in warm temperature and bug powers, in exchange for the need for blood. The sort of mad science Miranda was up to was next level. No wonder Chris was out to get her. It was a surprise the BSAA hadn't brought down the hand of God to crush her long ago. Even more surprising was how Miranda had operated in this area for over half a century, undisturbed and mostly undiscovered. There was no telling what other horrific experiments she had been performing all this time.

There were also still so many question marks attached to Miranda herself. Ethan tried his luck when he asked, "What's Miranda's deal anyway?" He shifted in his seat to face Bela better, eyes fixed to hers. "What can you tell me about her?"

Bela leaned an elbow on her desk, resting her face in her hand. "Not a lot, unfortunately. I know she was some sort of scientist once. You do not get as far as she has with the Cadou without an exhaustive background in science."

Ethan nodded his head in slow bobs, listening intently.

"That itself is not public knowledge. She became a cult leader of sorts." Bela gestured with her free hand in the air, and spoke with bitterness in her voice, "A figurehead or prophet, or whatever you want to call it. She preached the worship of the Black God, and treated ailments in the village."

"The Black God? What's that?"

"The mold," There was a rising aggression to Bela's tone. "She used it to control the villagers and keep them under her thumb. They abandoned their Christian faith for her cult. They abandoned everything…" Bela's voice waned, and her eyes grew distant – as if the memories all came flooding back to her just then. A soft exhale, and she continued, "Just like that, she had a steady supply of people to experiment on."

Ethan began to piece together that this was not a recent development. Miranda's ascension to Mother Miranda had happened some time ago. He raised his hand up to get Bela to slow down. "Wait – how did you find all that out? From Heisenberg?"

Bela's eyes fell from his face, settling to stare blankly at her desk instead. She took a breath and answered, "No."

The lightbulb fired off above Ethan's head, and he could practically hear it ding in recognition. "You saw that happening firsthand?"

There was a bob in Bela's throat as she swallowed hard, then nodded.

How terrible all that must have been for Bela – to see her fellow villagers and friends turning to Miranda instead of to Bela for help, only for them to fall into her cult and become fodder for experimentation.

"Much of it only became apparent in hindsight, years later." Bela sighed. "There was nothing I could do back then, and by the time I began to piece it together, I was already…" She motioned to herself, "like this."

There was little Ethan could offer in the way of consolation. 'Too little, too late' described majority of Ethan's feelings when ruminating all the coulda, woulda, shoulda over Mia's murder. It was his fault for failing to protect Mia, and Ethan still wrestled with that guilt. He was no specialist in absolving Bela of that similar brand of guilt – for her perceived failure to stop her neighbors from turning into Miranda's experiments.

For what little it was worth, Ethan told her without a single ounce of doubt, "It won't be for nothing. Chris is going to find her, and Miranda's gonna pay." He paused for a beat, ensuring he had Bela's full attention. "If not him, then me. I'll get out of here eventually and Miranda's gonna go down. You can count on it."

Bela narrowed her eyes just a fraction – not quite in doubt, but almost in wonder. "You really believe that?"

"Miranda fucked with the wrong people." The steel in his resolve was unmatched. It was exceedingly clear now that Miranda had been stomping on innocent lives for decades – from all the way back in Bela's first life. To be wronged by Miranda wasn't a commonality he expected to find with Bela. It had not crossed his mind that Miranda's tyranny spanned over half a century, tearing lives apart as she went. Unclenching his jaw, Ethan told her, "If she wanted to live, then she shouldn't have dragged my family into this."

Bela's arms came to wrap around herself; her hands rubbed up and down at her upper arms – at the goosebumps that had formed, Ethan noticed.

"Well, I am glad that I am not on your bad side," Bela remarked. "I will be sure to keep my family clear of your warpath when that day comes."

It was a somber reminder of the circumstances surrounding Ethan's stay in the castle. A war was already well underway thanks to Chris. Ethan had a feeling that once he personally joined the fray, it would be the next turning point. The final ledge from which there would be no stepping back. It would be do or die, and Ethan hoped at least Bela and Daniela would be spared from the inevitable bloodshed. If not, then he would move the heavens to make sure the two sisters would remain unscathed.

There were no happy endings in this life – the stream of fuck ups and horror shows Ethan endured had taught him that. Chris Redfield emptying his magazine into Mia's chest had taught him that. When Miranda would lie dead and lifeless at his feet, it would only be a ticking timebomb until the next shitshow unfolded. If his luck would hold up for once, Bela would be far away and safe and sound when his life went to hell again.

Ethan's gaze softened when he met Bela's eyes. Her brow furrowed with concern – likely at the steel and fire that had begun to set into his expression.

He placed his hand on the table, fingers spread in wordless invitation. It took just a moment for Bela to uncross her arms, and to hold his hand.

"Look, I dunno how this is all gonna go down. Maybe Miranda is too much for Chris to handle. Maybe you'll need to let me out of here to deal with Miranda myself so I can escape with Rose. Maybe Chris puts Miranda in the ground and then comes looking for me. If Chris tries to bust me out…"

Ethan did not need to elaborate. The nervous gulp down Bela's throat was clear indication she was keenly aware of the inevitable death and destruction that would be brought to the castle.

"My point is that no matter what happens," Ethan took a breath, "I'll do what I can to keep you safe, tapeworm. Let's not pretend I'm here to stay forever." Ethan squeezed her hand. "But when I walk out of this valley, I'm not doing it unless I'm sure you're safe and in one piece. Chris is gonna have to go through me to get to you."

Ethan's baby girl was kidnapped, and he lost Mia twice. He was not prepared to lose another person he cared about.

Bela was chewing on her bottom lip again. The silence was heavy in the air for a while until she spoke tentatively, "Is that how you think this ends?"

Hundreds, if not thousands of human lives had been snuffed out to feed the Dimitrescu family. The daughters themselves were personally responsible for much of the staggering body count tied to their family name. It was impossible that Chris was unaware of this. He had no reason to spare the family from his wrath. With his history of stomping bioweapons into the dirt, and the Dimitrescu House's history of cutting people down and taking their blood – conflict was inevitable. Ethan could not see a world where that wasn't how this ended. He could not see how there was any way he could stay in the hellscape of this valley, especially with his infant daughter.

"I dunno," Ethan shook his head, "but I know Miranda needs to go down. I know Chris isn't gonna play nice with her, or your family. I know Rose deserves to grow up somewhere safe and far away from werewolves and cult leaders."

A sad smile, and Bela nodded her agreement. She spoke in under a whisper, "She does."

Maybe it was the Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe Bela's golden eyes were hypnotic. Maybe he really was just in too deep.

He'd already daydreamed of walking along a warm beach with Bela's arm around his, and Rose perched over the back of his neck. He'd already smelled the sea salt in the air and seen the twinkle in Bela's smile as she held him close.

Even the most mundane day-to-day images had begun to pop up in his mind whenever he allowed his thoughts to wander. He could see Bela in that cozy grey sweater of hers and those jeans that hugged her curves. She could be pushing a grocery cart along, sending her blonde waves over her shoulder as she glanced back at him – asking him what was next on their list. Or she could be sitting on some nondescript sofa, legs tucked underneath her, and a dazzling smile turned his way as she asked what time he'd finish working.

"You should come with me."

It got a soft, startled laugh from Bela. She tilted her head, squinting her eyes to scrutinize Ethan's sincerity. "You're joking."

Ethan shrugged, and found he was very much not joking. "Think about it. We could go somewhere warm. Somewhere you don't have to worry about the cold anymore." He paused, just to take in how his heart raced in his chest. Ethan added with a lopsided smile, "Maybe somewhere by the beach, preferably without any damn seagulls."

It got a delighted laugh from Bela, which eased down into a small smile spreading on her face. A tinge of lingering sadness cut through the mirth. "Just get away from it all?"

"Yeah." Ethan matched her smile in kind, squeezing their entwined hands. "Fresh start."

It was a pipe dream, of course. It didn't surprise Ethan when Bela finally shook her head and told him, "I cannot just leave my family behind, puppy."

Ethan ducked his head for a beat and nodded. It was a comforting thought to entertain, as unrealistic as it was. He knew his time with Bela – with this thing they shared – was limited. All the best things in life were. Mia came to his life, brightening up every dim crevice in his heart, only to be taken away from him twice. Why should Bela be any different? Time was short, but he could cherish whatever they had, while they still had it.

Besides, Ethan could respect Bela's stance. "I understand. Family first."

Family was why they were having this conversation to begin with – of leaving the valley to get Rose far away from the insanity of it all.

Dulvey and all the trials that came with it came to mind. The words tumbled out of Ethan's mouth of their own accord. "I've gone through hell and back for my family, so I get you."

A moment passed, and Bela scooted her chair a tad closer, until her knee bumped Ethan's. She tilted her head slightly to better meet Ethan's gaze. She asked, "Like the village, and before when… when you rescued Mia?"

Ethan sighed a weighty sigh and nodded. This conversation was a week or two in the making, and it was about time Bela got a clearer picture. She deserved to hear it, especially after braving the bitter cold and risking her life for him and Rose.

Bela kept her voice soft, "Karl says Miranda briefed him and the Lords about you. She had a dossier which included the incident in Louisiana." Her thumb began to draw short strokes over Ethan's hand. "Much of it was redacted though, and Karl did not elaborate what happened to you. He just said that was where you were infected by the mold."

Lord knows where and how Miranda got a dossier about him. Who knew what sort of sketchy connections she had that could gather that information?

Shaking his head, Ethan focused on the matter at hand. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes and allowing the torrent of memories to flow over him. There were a dozen different ways to dive into this story, but Ethan settled for the simplest – starting from the beginning.

"There was a hurricane somewhere near Central America, back in 2014. Mia was on board a ship right in the middle of it." The buried grief came to the surface, and Ethan's throat tightened. He could see his muddy leather shoes on the damp grass. He could feel the weight of the umbrella in his hands. He could hear the rain bouncing off Mia's empty coffin as it lowered into her grave. "Some survivors washed up, but Mia was never found." Ethan swallowed. "She was presumed dead within the year."

Bela's other hand landed on top of their entwined hands, and she held Ethan tight.

"I grieved for years, y'know? The hurt got easier to deal with, but it was always there; it never left me. Never had any closure." Ethan sighed, sparing a glance at Bela. Even in the dim light, he could make out the worry on her face. "A part of me felt like she was still out there. That she survived somehow." He clicked his tongue, nodding slowly as his eyes stared blankly ahead. "Turned out I was right."

"Mia sent me a video message out of nowhere. She was scared – practically hysterical. But it was her, and she was alive." Ethan felt Bela's hands tighten over his – and he realized she was reciprocating his own probably too-firm hold on her. "It led me to the Baker Ranch in Dulvey." In hindsight, he had been reckless. Calling the authorities would have been prudent. But… "I didn't think twice about it. I got in my car and hit the road a few minutes after getting the message. Mia was out there, and that's all I cared about."

Gently, Bela asked, "And you found her?"

"In the basement," Ethan confirmed. "But she wasn't herself. She was…"

Mia's enraged voice rang in his ears, blotting out all sound. Ethan's gaze fell to his free hand, turned over to expose his palm, and the scars crisscrossing its surface. Ethan felt his lips moving, but did not hear the words come out, "She came at me with a knife."

A frown formed on Bela's face, and she leaned closer. She was speaking – that much Ethan was aware of, but he couldn't make anything out. Not with the ringing in his ears and Mia's warped voice growling in his ear.

"I had to fight her off with an axe. Dug it into her shoulder." Ethan laid a hand on Bela's own shoulder without little thought. Her eyes widened a fraction in surprise as Ethan pressed a finger against her skin, "Right there."

"I thought that was it. That she came into my life again, only for me to kill her." Bela remained quiet as Ethan retracted his hand and shook his head. "Then… she cut my hand off with a chainsaw."

The horror and disbelief alike were plenty on Bela's face, and so he went on, and got the worst out of the way, "I found an old gun and had to shoot her down."

Ethan's chest tightened. He was short of breath just to be remembering the rev of the chainsaw, and the – at the time – unfamiliar weight of a gun in his remaining hand.

"Last thing she said before she dropped was that she loved me." Ethan's lips hung open for a second. "I know it wasn't her fault that she did any of that. I know that wasn't my Mia."

Bela gave Ethan a squeeze, softly urging him on, "What happened then?"

"Jack Baker, owner of that shithole, clocked me and stomped on my head." Ethan took a big, deep breath. "Woke up to my hand getting reattached, and then to…" The revolting stench of rotten swill was vivid enough to force Ethan's eyes to water. His stomach turned as he spoke, "Woke to the Baker Family dinner, or whatever you wanna call the rotten shit they were eating." Ethan gulped. "Maggots, roaches, and probably some poor bastard's small intestine – fuck if I know."

The persisting frown on Bela's face meant she knew things would only continue going south.

Ethan's vision glazed over as he stared past Bela, a toothy grimace forming on his features. "Jack tried to force me to eat with them." He was vaguely aware his free hand was developing a tremble – reminiscent of how he'd fought against his restraints as Jack assaulted him. "Pretty sure if you look close enough, you'll see scars on my tongue and my gums."

The grating sound of rusty steel against his teeth had Ethan cringing. He shook his head sharply to clear it, and he had to unclench his jaw to admit, "I can't do this."

Bela gently pulled her hands from Ethan's in order to cup his face. "I'm sorry, little one." She reached over to plant a kiss to his cheek, only pulling back to tell him, "You don't have to continue."

The blow by blow was still too painful to relive. Even in therapy, Ethan could count on a single hand the number of times he'd successfully retold the Baker Incident from start to finish. The hellish experience had lived rent free in Ethan's nightmares up until Mia's murder took its place.

Ethan braced himself, cycling through the breathing exercises as Chris had taught him. If he couldn't give Bela the full account, he could at least give her the gist of it. It was important that she knew of his tormented past. For what specific reason, Ethan was not sure. But he was certain that he had nothing to hide from Bela. Definitely nothing to hide when it came to that fucked up night of terror and blood and death.

"The whole Baker House was a goddamn mold-ridden mess. Jack cut my leg off with a shovel, and I slapped it back on with some disinfectant," Ethan spoke quickly to avoid dragging it out – hoping to minimize the resurfacing trauma that way. "We duked it out a couple times. When I wasn't fighting him, I was fighting these moldy monsters. They were these tall, gooey, black mold fuckers with long claws and sharp teeth."

The wet sound of the molded creatures prying themselves free from the nearest damp wall – that was another thing Ethan developed a visceral response to. Any wet, sticky, fleshy sound that remotely resembled the molded coming to life would be enough to make his hair stand on end, and for his adrenaline to start pumping.

"If I wasn't fighting those moldy fuckers, then it was Jack's wife, Marguerite, and her army of bugs." Ethan felt it was a moot point to say 'no offense' over his distaste for bugs. "I had to use a flamethrower to keep them from digging into me."

Bela stroked Ethan's cheeks with her thumbs, nodding gently as he spoke.

"I cut Jack in half with a chainsaw. That was maybe half an hour after he blew his own brains out with my gun." Ethan's ears rang just to recall the point-blank shot through Jack's head – right next to Ethan's own. "But that didn't keep him down for long of course…" As the words spilled free, Ethan was vaguely aware parts of his recollection were out of order, "I killed Marguerite. Shot her to pieces and burned her to ash after she transformed into this fucked up spider thing." A shaky breath, and Ethan recalled, "There was a daughter too – Zoe. She guided me along to putting together this serum to cure her and Mia of the mold. Then the son, Lucas – he trapped me in this room to play this sick game of his."

Ethan left out the part where Lucas and Cassandra would be a match made in hell.

"Jack came back as this giant fucking mutant monster, but I killed him. I injected Mia with the serum, and we got out of there, only to get stuck in the ruins of that tanker ship Mia crashed in. The Annabelle." Ethan could still see the ship jutting out from the murky bayou. "That huge fucking hunk of rusted scrap washed ashore there. You can probably guess how well that turned out." Another deep breath, and Ethan tumbled along to the finish line, "Mia saved me from being trapped in some mold, then we got separated again. I fought my way through another army of moldmen in some mines, and got my hands on a poison specifically made for that strain of mold."

"There was this little girl, turned out to be this withered old woman. Her name was Eveline, and she was the source of that whole clusterfuck." Ethan mulled the thoughts over for a beat – of how everything started, and ultimately culminated with that supposed little girl. "You know how secrets can be deadly?"

A soft hum from Bela, and Ethan went on, "Mia was just doing the top brass of her company a favor in exchange for a bonus. She was supposed to look after a little girl – they said she was the daughter of somebody on the board, or something." Ethan pointedly stopped gritting his teeth to say, "Nobody told Mia she was playing caretaker to a fucking bioweapon."

A thoughtful frown formed on Bela's face, but she said nothing. Ethan went on, "I injected Eveline with the toxin, and she transformed into this…" Ethan licked his lips, at a loss for words to describe the horrific abomination Eveline had turned into. "Huge fucking monster. That's when Chris arrived and dropped some support, and then that was that. Mia and I were airlifted out of there."

"It was…" Ethan trailed off, eyes settling anywhere on Bela's face but her eyes. She waited patiently, drawing soothing patterns on his cheeks with her thumbs. "I didn't think I would get out of that house alive. Pretty sure I spent half that night crying like a baby while pulling the trigger." Ethan closed his eyes. "Sometimes, I feel like a part of me died in that house. Before Chris killed Mia, I'd dream about the Bakers every night. I'm back there, and I'm running for my life because I know if I stop for just a second, I'm going to die."

Ethan let out a humorless laugh and shook his head. "You know what that's like? To have your entire life revolve around a single fucking night in hell that just never stops?"

Bela's breath warmed Ethan's face with a sigh. "Yeah," She mumbled. "I think I know what you mean."

His vision was blurry when his eyes opened. Ethan blinked and promptly scrubbed away the loose tears stinging his eyes. Bela did not regard him for much longer before she slid her hands off his face and around his neck. She pulled him in for a much-needed embrace, which Ethan returned in kind. He buried his face in her neck, allowing her wavy hair to tickle his face; her distinctive smell – berries – soothed his nerves. Bela sent a hand trailing up his nape. Her fingers toyed around with the messy hair at the base of his skull.

"Thank you for trusting me with your story," Bela whispered, holding him all the tighter. "I cannot begin to imagine what it was like to deal with those monsters."

And because Jack's pleading voice haunted him as much as the terrors did, Ethan had to clarify, "The Bakers weren't monsters. Most of the night, I just wished they would die, or never existed in the first place." He sighed into Bela's neck. "In the end, I found out they weren't to blame. The mold did that to them. Eveline did that. She may have just wanted a family, but she tore a family apart to get it." He swallowed the lump in his throat, and could picture the smallest smile on Jack Baker's bespectacled face. "The Bakers were victims too. None of this is on them. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time."

And now that Ethan had started, it was difficult to stop. "You know what's even more fucked up? I can't even really blame Eveline for everything either."

Bela slowly pulled back, keeping her arms looped around Ethan's neck as she studied him. "Why is that?"

"Because it wasn't her fault she was that way either. The more I learned about her, the more I…" He scoffed to himself, "The more I couldn't hate her. Didn't occur to me all at once – especially not in the heat of the moment when I was running for my life. But afterwards, when I really got to think about everything…"

All the documents and recordings shed a staggering amount of light on Eveline and her origins.

"When it boils down to it, Eveline was just a lost child. A vat-grown bioweapon given personality." Ethan watched Bela's face soften the more he spoke. "She was poked and prodded since creation, moved from one lab to another and controlled over the false promise of a family. They even manipulated Mia into getting involved in all that. Then I guess Eveline had enough, and that's when the Annabelle situation happened."

With little other recourse, Ethan shrugged his shoulders, almost helplessly. "She was… what – four years old, I think? She arrived at the Baker Ranch, and all she wanted was someone to love her. I can't blame her or hate her for not knowing any better. Doesn't excuse anything, of course. Doesn't undo all the deaths she caused. But after learning about all the shit they put Eveline through, how can I personally hold all that against her?"

Bela chewed on her bottom lip, the thoughts likely running rampant in her mind. When she spoke, she offered Ethan a slight smile. "I think it's admirable you are able to say that, even after everything."

Ethan shrugged again. "Nothing admirable about it." His eyes avoided Bela's for a second before returning. "It's just the truth."

They held eye contact for a moment longer before Bela retracted her arms. She rested one hand on her lap, and the other on the nearly forgotten notebook on her desk. "Part of why I was so curious was because I wished to know the circumstances surrounding your infection."

Ethan followed Bela's gaze to the notebook and asked, "You finished checking out my blood?"

Bela leafed through the notebook, arriving at a much later entry, close to the end. The shorthand kept it illegible to Ethan, and so she explained, "I did. By the time I finished, you and I had…" Her eyes were flighty for just a moment, "We bonded, and I was wary of how Miranda would react to my findings. So, I kept my research to myself, unlike that other report two weeks ago."

"I appreciate it." Ethan gave a small smile. "What's the diagnosis, doc?"

Bela fiddled with her notebook, toying with the corner of the page. "May I ask what it is you know about the infection, Ethan?"

Ethan pursed his lips for a second and rested his arm on the table. "Caught it at one point or another in the Baker House. Mia and I had surgery to remove a bunch of the mold from our system. The docs put us on maintenance meds, and we were given the all-clear. 'Fine and dandy,' was how they put it. They said some of it was still inside us, but it wasn't anything to worry about."

Bela's attentive, scrutinous gaze watched Ethan closely as he spoke. After some moment's thought, she repeated, "Some of it is inside you? That is what they told you?"

Frowning, Ethan confirmed, "Yeah."

Bela parted her lips, eyes going to her notes, then back to Ethan. Quite simply, Bela said, "They lied to you."

His frown deepened. "What are you talking about?"

"I studied your blood sample extensively." Bela motioned to herself as she spoke, "Do you remember how I said my cells are the perfect imitation of a human's?"

"Yeah."

"Yours are the same. They look human and act human, but they are not. Your cells have more in common with that of an infected lycan than a normal human."

A wave of nausea washed over Ethan. He blinked repeatedly, mouth opening and closing to try and put his thoughts out. "What are you saying?"

Bela licked her lips, appearing reluctant now to be the bearer of this news. "I am saying that, if your red blood cells are anything to go by, then every cell in your body has been infected by the mold, and is performing the perfect imitation of a human being." A pause – longer and heavier than any before, "Simply put, you do not have a single normal human cell in your body."

"But…" Ethan's stare went blank as he racked his memory over the countless tests the BSAA subjected him to. They had taken liters of blood from him over the years. "But the tests from the doctors… how could they miss that? That shit's their specialty."

"Perhaps they did not miss it," Bela answered. "They may have just kept it from you so you would not worry."

Ethan was breathless to consider it – of how thick of a slice of bullshit it all was. They lied to him – and definitely not just to keep him from worrying. Chris must be in the loop too, and –

Ethan's hand balled into a fist on his lap.

It all made sense. The regular checkups after the doctors gave them the all-clear. Chris' personal visits and all the times he'd phoned in at regular intervals – all under the guise of it being routine security protocols. There was nothing normal about just how tightly Ethan and Mia were kept under Hound Wolf Squad's watch. There must have been a duality to it. They were there to protect not just the Winters family, but everyone they associated with – for fear of the infection fucking up and turning Mia into that same raging, murderous mutant, or turning Ethan into God knows what.

"Should I be worried?" Ethan's mind felt equally blank now. "I mean… what – is something going to happen to me? Am I just some moldy husk pretending to be Ethan Winters?"

Bela looked down. Quietly, she said, "If you are, then that makes me a bloat fly ridden husk pretending to be who I was in life."

Ethan slid his hand across the table to settle on hers. "Bela, that's not what I meant."

"I know it's not, but…" Bela shrugged, giving him a helpless smile. "Aside from those healing capabilities of yours, do you even feel any different?"

Mouth agape for a second or two, Ethan had to admit, "No. I still feel like me." He deflected the loaded question further by adding, "Still the same blonde idiot who slept through half my classes in high school."

"Then what does it matter if you no longer have regular human cells?" Bela shifted her hand to intertwine their fingers. "If you think like Ethan, and sound like Ethan, and feel like Ethan Winters, then you are. If you had any prescription medication for the mold, you have been cut off from that for two weeks now, and with no side effects. If something would have happened to you, it should have manifested by now."

Ethan leaned back on his chair, eyes on Bela.

"For all intents and purposes, you are human, Ethan – and nothing can take that away from you."

And maybe it really was as simple as that, wasn't it?

Because if Ethan could have the audacity to say without a modicum of doubt that Bela was human to him – then he had to say the same for himself. If it did not matter that Bela could shift into a swarm of flies, then it similarly should not matter that Ethan could stick his severed limbs back on with nothing but antiseptic. It should not matter that, biologically, he was no longer human.

He felt that he was, and that was enough.

His moldy insides made no fundamental changes in his life – aside from perhaps making recovery from grievous injury much easier. He loved Mia as fiercely as he had before the Baker House. His sense of empathy was as powerful as ever – strong enough to cast doubt to the wind and trust Bela's kindness, to brave the storm that was Daniela, and to consider the possibility – even for a moment – that perhaps Cassandra wasn't as rotten as she had given him every reason to believe.

Humanity didn't come from cells or biology.

It came in all the acts, big and small. Humanity was Bela spiriting Ethan away to the dungeons so he would not be strung up on meat hooks, then tending to his injuries and caring for him. Humanity was Daniela fighting against her very nature day and night to try and be a better person, and bursting into tears over the death she sowed. Humanity was Cassandra – the sadistic queen herself who lopped his finger off – helping deflect the blame of the shelf's destruction, all out of her love for her sister. Humanity was Ethan deciding against every white-hot instinct in his body and choosing to not lay waste to the Dimitrescu House and recover his daughter by force – because even if he wanted his daughter back, he refused to kill other daughters in the process, regardless of how much death they'd wrought.

At the beginning, it would not have even been a question. He would have turned the castle into a smoldering ruin to find Rose, if not for Bela's intervention. Now, after learning everything – discovering the humanity that lurked within the cracks of the daughters' psyches – he couldn't think of turning their home into a battlefield.

Ethan felt lighter. The anxious beat of his heart stilled, and the room no longer threatened to spin in slow circles. He found it easy to smile a carefree smile at Bela, who soon returned it. "Thanks for telling me, Bela."

"Of course. I did not want to keep this from you. As we keep saying," Bela laughed slightly, "We are in the shit together now. There should be little secrets between us, and…" She bit down on her bottom lip, eyes darting away from his. "You deserve to know more about me as well. I just… it's…"

"Hard?" Ethan offered.

"To put it simply, yes." Bela sighed, "But I do want to tell you more. Who I was, what happened to me, what happened after I woke up on that operating table, how terrible of a monster I was… I just need time to gather my thoughts. I mentioned it before," She motioned vaguely towards the door – towards Ethan's cell and their first night together. "The memories can be very fragmented, and even I get them out of order sometimes." A frown persisted on Bela's face, creasing her tattooed forehead. "When I am ready, I will tell you. I promise."

"Okay," Ethan gave a reassuring smile, "Take your time. You know where to find me."

It got a soft laugh from Bela, and she rolled her eyes in a debatably fond way. She tugged Ethan's hand gently. "Come back to bed?"

Ethan's heart skipped a beat, and he hoped the dim light was enough to conceal any heat pooling underneath his cheeks.

"Yeah," He gulped. "Let's."

"Good." Bela stood up, and Ethan tried not to look at the way her hips swayed as she walked. With one knee up on the mattress, Bela glanced back, sending him a wink, "I missed my personal furnace."

"Shut up," Ethan grumbled. He extinguished the oil lamp on Bela's desk before making his way over to his side of the bed. There was less contemplation this time around over shedding his layers. He was definitely not stripping his sweater and shirt off while Bela was conscious, lying in bed, and wearing that. But it was warm, and something told Ethan that Bela would be sharing in his warmth for the rest of the night, and he wasn't keen on overheating under the comforter. He tugged his sweater off with little ceremony, leaving him in his dark shirt, with the logo of the Duke's Emporium proudly printed in white on the soft cotton.

As Ethan slipped under the comforter, Bela spoke up, "I imagine you don't ordinarily go to sleep in jeans."

Ethan laughed, the sound coming out just a tad strangled, as he had been hoping Bela wouldn't question it. "I don't." The idea of sleeping next to Bela in nothing but his boxers sent his heart racing.

Bela rolled onto her side to face Ethan. She smiled at the mildly nervous look on his face. "Maybe we can get you something comfortable from the Duke?"

Some shorts or a pair of joggers wouldn't hurt. Especially if he was spending any more time in Bela's warm room in the future – and something told him he was.

"Sounds like a plan."

Bela fixed Ethan with her warm gaze. She licked her lips, and Ethan picked up on the air of hesitation as she appeared to struggle with her words. Finally, she extended an arm towards him, ducking her head. Bela had the most adorable puppy dog eyes as she asked, "Come closer?"

Ethan was powerless to resist.

Not that he really wanted to resist in the first place.

He pulled himself closer, tugging his pillow along with him. As Ethan wormed closer to Bela, she shifted, turning to face her back to him. He tugged the comforter over them to ensure Bela was as snug and cozy as possible. It was the most natural thing in the world to slide an arm over Bela's midsection, his hand gliding along the silky fabric. His other arm settled underneath Bela's pillow, and she laid her head down. Her back pressed flat against his chest, and their legs tangled together.

Ethan tucked his hips back by a fraction – just as a precaution.

His nose was rapidly getting buried in Bela's berry-scented locks. He chose to blame that for his decision to lean over and kiss Bela on the side of her neck. His lips brushed against her smooth skin as the déjà vu washed over him. "So… little spoon?"

Bela giggled, and Ethan savored in the sensation – feeling the rumble from her chest while he was as closely pressed up to her as he was. Bela craned her head back by a degree as she mimicked him from all those nights ago, deep voice and all, "Shut up. Just – shut up."

Their collective hushed laughter filled the air, until the amusement settled down. Then the only sounds that permeated Bela's bedroom were their steady breaths, and the soft crackle of the fireplace.

"Good night, puppy." Bela's voice was sweet enough to make him melt.

Ethan gave Bela a soft squeeze and whispered back, "Night, tapeworm."

After such weighty contemplations of the nature of humanity, Ethan had expected it would take a while for him to fall asleep. Instead, with Bela in his arms, sleep took him swiftly.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Do leave me some faves and follows if you liked this chapter, and shoot me a review to let me know how you liked this one! Love hearing from you guys as always!

First things first - apologies for the delay with this chapter. I actually had the first draft of this chapter sitting around for a while, but I just couldn't get myself to work on it. Had a lot going on lately and it's all been a bit much. Thankfully I caught a break today and was able to finalize the draft and here we are now. With that in mind, I will say to keep your expectations low over the next chapter's posting - that'll go up probably the weekend of the 17th, since I'm gonna be out of town this week and I'm not sure how much writing I'll get done. You guys will catch my usual sign of life in the comments section when posting date is near.

So - some interesting discussions in this chapter, I think. The idea of Ethan finding out he's not totally human has been a thing I've been weighing in my head for a while now, and this felt like the most appropriate time to bring it up - and the most natural way for him to react. He talks so much game about how Bela and Dani are human to him, so it only felt fitting to me that after the initial shock, it would not be too hard for him to accept it - and the fact that his biology ultimately does not change much about his humanity. After all, ingame, it's only because his heart is literally ripped out of his chest that Ethan discovers he's technically dead and not human. If not for that, he would have probably carried on his blissful existence as the perfect mimicry of a human being.

Ethan's also quite in deep, no? Maybe I had too much fun writing how blown away Ethan is by Bela's beauty - but hey, when you're falling hard, you're falling hard. People who never had a creative bone in their body are suddenly poets and artists, all inspired by whoever their muse is. Lord knows I turned to art when pursuing my SO; it felt fitting that Ethan's thoughts would go on similar tangents around Bela.

There's also other significant details I'm sure you eagle-eyed fellas picked up on, so I won't bother singling them out much more :P Do with them as you please.

By the by, do be sure to check out Taming the Huntress by SilentWinters on AO3! (I'm probably a little late to the party, but better late than never) It's about the highly interesting pairing of Ethan/Cassandra, and they're relatively new to the writing scene. Do be sure to give them a peek if you enjoy this little Daughters/Ethan niche we're carving out.

Similarly, check out Let's See How Special I Am by Hydroxide also on AO3! I've only given their work a tiny peep recently, but from the little I've seen, it's a fun, action-packed twist on Ethan's foray into the village, and has a lot of interaction with our favorite blonde ladybug. Check them out and say hi!

I think that's it from me. Thanks again so much for all the patience - I appreciate all the support to the moon and back. Even if I may not reply right away, do know that every little message you fellas send lights up my writer heart as much as it does my inbox. You're all legends. See you at the next one.