AN: Beyond these segments, there will be some gunfights, so bear with me for now until the time comes.

Disclaimer: F.E.A.R. is the rightful property of Monolith and Warner Bros. Interactive

Interval 01:

The Cost of Desire

For over twenty years, she had suffered alone. Two, unbearable decades of hapless confinement and restless dreams that never came to end. In the beginning, death had been a welcome release from torment of living. No more tears, no more pain. Peace and silence closed like a cool blanket around her naked body, snuffing out all her senses until there was nothing left to feel…

Death, however, would not claim its hand on her. She would not allow it.

Her body had died, but her mind was as strong as ever. And for the first time she could remember, hatred crept into her heart; fury so malign and loathsome that it burned her to the very core of existence.

Armacham, her father, the cruel injustice of humanity itself, all of it fueled her wrath like fanning coals over a hot flame. She wanted them dead. All of them! The world would tremble for what they did to her!

But most of all, Alma sought to have that one last spark of happiness she'd ever felt, the one who showed her genuine kindness and warmth when others did not.

…Him.

Even when, in the earliest days, her very presence could break his will to live, he never hated her. Their bond had grown with each passing day, and the wall around her heart had crumbled down. Days and nights they'd spent huddled together, driving away their own nightmares, and the hellish cycle of life that had conspired to end their precious relationship.

And then one day, he was gone.

Heartbroken and full of longing, these emotions followed her to her grave. The mental toll of loosing one so dear had rent her mind asunder, where the separation from her true love became an object of obsession. Eventually, those shattered memories had taken form in the shape of a little girl she'd once been, while her true self, had been lead to the discovery of something much more… carnal.

And now… an eternal life of insatiable lust unfulfilled… was about to change.

Alma's conscious form, still entombed in her watery grave beneath the earth, positively craved this newfound pleasure. She writhed in the darkness alone with herself, moaning quietly from the ghostly caresses of her adolescent persona. Every touch of his lips on hers, every movement she made to squirm in his lap…

"Ahhh…"

The woman expressed her envy in resonant tones, bony fingers gliding along her corporeal body… still woefully devoid of what she desires. She was a recepient of her other self, their bodies seperate, yet their minds as one. They both shared the same common thread: The love for a man they had once lost.

And as the current of Beckett's life-force flowed through them, the Hag of Alma began to evolve...

Even in darkness, she knew what her body had attained. Cracked skin peeled away, withered complexion deepened and flourished into flawless perfection, a gaunt face with smooth, angular lines. Hollow eyes became majestic pools of a a dark obsidian ocean, the very depths teaming with the dark red of brimstone. Lips the color of strawberry yogurt were set into a wide, drawn mouth, her lips fuller and far more succulent than any mere woman could hope to have. Curtains of hair, midnight black, wet with amniotic fluid lay suspended above her, the long silky tresses stemming from her head until they grazed the ceiling so many feet above.

But, for her… it wasn't enough.

"I… I need… more."

Her tragically malnourished physique, once literally nothing more than rotting flesh and bones, began to develop anew. Lean build and sumptuous curves were now hers to possess, and she willed her body into the kind of quintessence beauty that the world endeared. Ample breasts, full and faultless; a narrow waist with rolling hips; sleek thighs and shapely calves... her feminine figure now a work of godlike art.

There was nothing she didn't have that any man would deny, even if she were death itself.

And soon, the one she cherished… would finally be hers.

"…Mmm…"

In the cold silence of their deserted surroundings, Young Alma kissed her love with frightening intimacy, born of endless years being alone, muffling her melody of soft moans and low whimpering. She didn't care if her body was still that of a child, a ghost, or even a demon; …she loved him.

She loved him with every measure of her heart.

-And no one, not even God, would deny her that right, ever again.

Her small hands could barely even hold Michael's head, yet she pulled him to her anyway, savoring the taste of his lips… the feel of her bust pressing against him….

It seemed completely absurd to think of such at a time like this, but somehow… the young girl that held Beckett in her dark embrace was… softer… more mature. Her height and appearance was not changed, save for the lack of blood no longer adorning her perfect skin, but…

She felt different… the curves belonging to a young woman close to his chest.

Either that or he'd gone utterly over the edge, into the abyss…

She held him close, delicately, as if he were made of frail glass, ready to break. Condoning whatever reasoning behind this insanity of theirs, he gave in to the young, pale goddess… letting her take him again… and again…

If there ever were a God, then Becket was sure that he had it out for him.

…What right did he have, being so adored?

Beckett knew not of her name, her history… much less even what had transpired between them in the past life, and yet the unashamed love she claimed for him was true. The way Alma's soft lips melded possessively with his own… the manner in which she clung to him so… it was like she had wanted this moment for all her existence.

Regardless of his own inner guilt, he could feel something between the raven-haired girl, and himself. There was an immense pull welling up in his mind, as if something vastly important was being dragged out of a dark corner of Michael's psyche and brought out into the light.

Yet, for some extraordinary reason it remained ever out of reach, lingering just outside of his mental grasp. The fact that he seemed helpless to discover what that thing was, was driving the Delta soldier crazy…

"Mmmaahhh…"

…Alma derailed that line of thought completely; her harmonious voice bringing his attention solely unto her. Slim, ivory fingers entangle with Beckett's hair, as she leans passionately into another heated kiss, long raven locks flowing elegantly over her face. Incredible sensations bordering on carnal bliss flare throughout the older man's body… those full supple lips of ice delivering such an exquisite burn he could not help but gasp into the girl's mouth.

"… Ahh…!"

She wasn't immune to it either. The mutual sensitivity evoked by their psychic bond made her swoon with rapture. It felt like ice-cold lava, flowing between their bodies, setting her insides afire even as the coolness pooled over her pale skin, drenching her from head to toe…

It was… intoxicating.

With meticulous grace unbefitting for a child, Alma gave in to him completely, hitching her bare legs up around Beckett's waist until she was effectively straddling him, her arms wrapping around his neck… The skirt of her red dress was hiked up well over her knees, revealing her slender thighs that were filling out into a more sensual shape.

She was acting on pure impulse, unable to resist the temptation.

Conceding with desire, she planted her lips firmly over Beckett's own, and this time she let her womanly instincts take control, slipping her wet tongue deep into his mouth, stroking leisurely upon his with deft precision.

"-…Mmmmm"

The young goddess trembled with pleasure, exhaling intensely into her lover's lips with a chill that sent shivers down Beckett's spine. With crimson-gold eyes closed to the world, she focused only on the feeling, knowing full well the knowledge of how to please him, having read that other female's thoughts.

That delicious ambiance arced through them a thousand times over, rising… then falling like a great ocean. It was enough to make her struggle for breath as their lips met in long, sexy intervals, a small trail of saliva turned to liquid crystals as it bridged between their mouths.

Beckett went numb with ambrosia. Never had he tasted lips as sweet as hers… or shared such a passionate kiss dripping with ecstasy like this before. And much to his horror, the heady cocktail from all this stimulation was sending his hormones into overdrive. He wished for this all to end, for the pale, sprouting princess to finally finish him off.

The sinister aura of tendrils of smoke and blood that'd bound the two of them into this realm surrounded their bodies, urging the soldier's hands to hold her closer…

"-Michael…" she cooed.

And suddenly, he stopped. Their minds merged, just once, and in that moment he'd felt the most despairingly profound despondency he'd ever felt in his life. There was no image to be had… nothing visually to suggest why such an emotion had stolen itself upon him.

…It had wrought his very core with grief.

All because of one word…

Alma froze. She could feel him shaking vigorously in her arms, and all at once she felt an overwhelming sorrow emanate from her love so severe that it startled her. Reclining back from the comfort of the Delta soldier's body, she looked into his face… and found that his eyes were closed… a lone tear trailing slowly down the chiseled visage.

He was crying.

"M-Michael…?" her face shifted uneasily into worry, her eyes alight with fear.

A thin line of crimson followed suit from the same river of sadness, and Beckett's convulsions now threatened to tear him apart. His head felt as if ready to explode from within, his veins smoldering like gasoline under the skin.

Amongst all this chaos, he could hear… voices, distorted, ambiguous, and speaking in strident tones.

We can't let them go on like this. They're too dangerous!

You're asking me to seal my daughter away…

You knew the risks, Harlan. We all did.

A girl started crying.

No! I don't want to go back! Daddy! Why won't you help me!

A young boy started shouting, sounding on the verge of hysterics.

What are you doing!? You bastards! Let her go!

Michael! Help me!

What the hell was happening, he thought in a panic. His heart seized painfully…

"Michael-!"

The soldier cried out in protracted agony as the din of psychic backflow shook the very fabric of space and struck him fully in the chest, the sheer force knocking him senseless into his seat.

He stopped, cold.

Alma snuffled as the shock of her actions sunk in, telesthetic aura and tendrils of miasma winking out of existence like windbound dust settling on the ground.

Her voice cracked, "—Michael…"

His eyes lolled back as if in a daze, ears ringed like a grenade had gone off next to his skull, the taste of blood on the tip of his tongue.

And suddenly he was slumping to the side like a staggered drunk, the crew seats of the APC a trifle hard cushion for the inevitable fall. Alma saved him just in time, twisting his body so he lay flat on his back, sitting atop him so she could see into his eyes.

A duality of voices, both beautiful and haunting erupted from the deity's lips, her inconsolable bawling nearly making him go deaf as she held him tight, her face lowered to Beckett's own.

She'd pushed him too far, too avid to realize the dangers of loving him so sincerely.

And now… she faced her darkest fear.

"Michael…! Please, look at me…! Look at my eyes!"

Alas, he tried; the impact had thrown his mind completely out of focus, drifting in and out of conscious thought to the point where it was disorienting just to think. He locked gazes with hers, if only to help ease her distress.

It only made it worse…

Tears spilled forth from her golden eyes of firelight, streaking across her soft features in clear rivers. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed, hugging Beckett like a lost child, "I'm so sorry…"

Beckett was speechless, stunned into silence. The little girl's crying had touched a chord deep in his heart, pulling the strings that held him in check. He felt no anger towards her actions. No sorrowful deceit to abide his own feelings.

-Just a need to do the right thing.

His muscled arms enclose tenderly around her, holding her to him as she had before; A paternal gesture, if there ever was, and in kind, Alma did just the same, her voice echoing with tear-filled joy.

"I'm sorry..." she sniffled, embracing him tighter. "I never wanted to hurt you."

The Delta Soldier sighed as he spoke reverently.

"I know..."