Breath of Life

by handathepanda

After a tough trial, Meg wakes up in a very unfamiliar woods. While trying to regain her composure, she finds an unlikely face among the crowded streets: Evan MacMillan. Is this just some cruel joke made by the Entity or are they really out? While they try to figure out where to go from here, their hatred for one another starts to contort and form into something else entirely.

15. Almost Idyllic

Bright sunlight greets Evan in stark contrast to the darkness he saw in his dream just moments ago, and for a moment, he forgets where he is.

Forgets who he's holding.

Forget whose fingers grip his arm.

Once he opens his eyes, despite the glaring sunlight flowing in through the window, he expects to see his cold, dusty shack around him, but instead the first thing he sees is her.

Not even registering that they're not in the realm right away, he freezes until he takes in a deep breath and his mind slowly catches up to where he is, and as he exhales, he closes his eyes out of relief as his grip on Meg tightens gently, pulling her closer to him.

She lets out a soft hum and smacks her lips once, still sleeping soundly next to him. As her soft snores begin again, her not-so-graceful way of sleeping is enough to make Evan's heart beat faster in his chest as she curls up against his giant frame and grips his arm as if to say 'don't leave'.

His eyes wander her face, her fiery red hair, her freckled arms, and even after a week of holding her like the world is crashing down around them, he can hardly believe that she would willingly be there sharing his bed and gripping him just as tight as he holds her.

Back in the Entity's realm, he could admire her from afar for a moment or two, but could never let his mind wander, his emotions take over, and he never once thought about how it would feel to be beside her, but as she snores quietly beside him, he knows that this is where he has wanted to be for so long.

Back then he knew she was strong; anyone with any sort of common sense would know that, but how she has handled everything now is as incredible to him as anything. He has never met a woman like her, nor has he ever met any person, man or woman, as strong and full of willpower like she is.

His eyes roam her face, taking in her long eyelashes and small crease in between her eyebrows that becomes more prominent only when she sleeps, or when she disapproves of something, which Evan has found is often, but that only makes him smile. Finally his eyes settle on her lips and the way they are parted gently as she exhales slowly.

He wants to know what her lips taste like.

But he refrains.

As much as this time with her is as wonderful as anything he ever wanted, Evan has lived his days waiting for the worst to happen, as it always does.

Like a swinging noose, a shiny guillotine, there is always something waiting in the shadows, and Evan knows not to get his hopes up. It only leads to disappointment which was something his father taught him long ago, and holds true even to this day. His time spent with the Entity was proof of that enough, and there shouldn't be a reason why she would want to be with him, here.

It isn't what she deserves, and she deserves someone better than him, he knows this.

But is he strong enough to let her go?

Probably not, so he keeps himself distanced, just enough. If he were to grab her waist and pull her to him, seeing that look of shock on her face as he brings her in for that kiss he has wanted, he knows he wouldn't be able to leave her side ever.

As the days pass and they fall into their routine, the temptation gets harder and harder, but he can still let her go once she comes to her senses. She has a full life ahead of her, one that she should enjoy, not with him around holding her back. She shouldn't want to be with a monster like him.

But until then, he will enjoy these days as much as he can. He does not hope for anything more, he doesn't dare, but he can enjoy what they have right now while knowing it will come to an end.

With that thought in his mind and wanting to do something nice for her - he could never make up what he has done, and she has shown him more kindness than he ever deserved - he brushes a lock of hair behind her ear before slowly getting out of bed. Slowly replacing the blanket on top of her, Meg stirs just a little at the loss of his warmth, but she doesn't wake up as he stands there for a moment, taking in the view. Not even a minute after he gets up, she begins to sprawl her arms and legs out, taking up most of the bed as she continues snoring softly while looking as relaxed as ever.

With a small smile, Evan walks softly out of the room and closes the door behind him, listening for any noises around the house other than the occasional creak of the wood settling, but when he hears stark silence, he is relieved.

Not that he doesn't want to be alone, quite actually he has come to tolerate, if not somewhat enjoy, the company of Meg's friends, but it would be nice to make something special just for Meg.

As Evan walks downstairs, he begins to really think about Meg's friends, and how quickly he stopped thinking about them as the survivors, his enemies. They only meant annoyance, pain, and torture if he didn't do well or kill them fast enough, or at all, and no matter how much he tried to retaliate, the Entity only twisted his mind and body until he didn't even feel human anymore.

He didn't know how to think and all he knew was they needed to die, they needed to go. He couldn't handle anymore of the Entity's torture, and they were his key to relief, if only for a little bit until his humanity began to creep back in, and until he began to see the horrified looks of agony on their faces because of what he was doing to them. He couldn't do it, didn't want to do it, but even then, it wasn't because he wanted to do anything for them - no - he didn't want to be used as a tool. He didn't want to hurt anyone, and he didn't want to continue to be used to hurt people, just as he suffered in his life on Earth.

His father used him just as the Entity used him, and never once did he feel the need to hurt these people for his own purpose, and yet somehow he was stuck in eternity repeating the very cycle he tried so hard to break.

Instead of thinking about the people he was hurting, he simply tried his best to retain any form of humanity he thought he had left, for whatever reason, but now he feels he made the right choice. All the pain, the torture, the twisted games and agony he endured because he refused to let go completely was worth it because now….

Now he walks into the kitchen and sees his old, cold, unwelcoming house full of color, full of life that he never thought he would ever know. There are boxes of cereal lined up neatly along the counter next to a small red tray Kate picked up from the store to put coffee and tea on. There was a wristwatch on the dining room table and a few jackets scattered across the chairs, and shoes littered near the door behind Evan, and it seemed as though one life that he isn't used to is somehow bleeding into his past life, and sometimes his own mind can't even begin to comprehend hearing laughter and banter echo through the dark halls in the estate.

Getting to know Meg has been a life-saver, that much has been obvious to Evan, and he finds himself yearning to be next to her, to make sure she's okay, she's there, and she's alive. That has been one thing, slowly opening up and learning about the woman he could never stop thinking about, But the way that her friends have somehow wormed their way into his life has been a surprise to him.

He wakes up thinking about his garden that him and the quiet, timid one, Claudette, have started together, and he can't help but feel at peace when he's in her presence. At first when Meg suggested that he help her garden, he expected a tense and awkward few minutes before he gave up and went inside, but as she immediately began to inform him of the different plants and herbs, he couldn't help but think of his mother.

She was kind and patient, just like Claudette, and for some reason he immediately warmed up to that, wanting nothing more than to listen and contribute his own knowledge where applicable. Soon they talked about gardening almost nonstop, and she taught him things his mother promised to teach him one day that she never got the chance to.

Then there was Ace who, no matter what he said, seemed to get under Evan's skin, but although Evan would never admit it, he enjoyed having him around. His constant state of relaxation while making everything a gambling opportunity seemed to egg Evan on. He was never one to gamble, or rather, he never had the opportunity to gamble since no one wanted to bet against Evan MacMillan, so he kept to himself and made some tense friendships along the way so now, being around people who genuinely seem like they want to interact with him is something he doesn't quite know how to handle.

But with Meg by his side, he begins to feel increasingly comfortable around her friends, almost just as much as he is with her.

With a small unconscious smile on his face, Evan begins to pour instant coffee into the mugs of hot water he made until there is a loud bang that comes from the table behind him, making him drop one of the small packets all over the counter and spreading coffee grounds everywhere.

With a sigh, he turns around and sees Nea leaning in one of the chairs with her feet on the table - something he has told her time and time again not to do, with a tired yet slight amused look on her face.

"Morning," Nea smirks at him with a small nod.

"Feet off the table," Evan says out of instinct although by now he knows that she won't listen, not one bit. "But good morning."

Nea's eyes follow Evan's movements as he begins to stir the bitter instant coffee in with hot water, remaining silent until he speaks again, feeling her intense stare in his back.

"Is there something I can help you with?" He asks before clearing his throat, his voice still groggy from sleep.

"Whatcha doing?" Nea asks.

For a moment, Evan doesn't respond as he glances back at Nea then back to the mugs that sit on the table.

"Making coffee, or what is a sad excuse for coffee," he responds, moving onto the next mug, mixing in the coffee, watching it swirl around in the mug.

"For you and Meg?"

Not sure about where this conversation is going, Evan simply nods.

"I wasn't going to bring his up but now if you mention it, there is something I've been wanting to ask," Nea continues talking, leaning her head to the side as she crosses her arms across her chest.

"I didn't mention anything," Evan mutters despite Nea not paying attention as he wipes coffee grounds that fell onto the counter into his hands.

"So," Nea begins slowly, so slowly that it makes Evan turn around to face her waiting for whatever it is she's going to say despite him not asking. Finally, after a beat of silence she begins to talk again. "Meg has been very secretive about what's going on between you two, so I thought I'd take this time to talk with you, one-on-one, ya know?"

"What do you want to know?" Evan asks quirking an eyebrow up at her.

"What is your intention with Meg?"

"What do you mean?" he stumbles over his words, taken aback by the question. There has never been an intention, not a conscious one at least, and to him with every passing moment with her, every single fiber of his being simply wants to keep her safe. Make sure she is happy, he doesn't even care if it is because of him. She deserves more than the life she had, and more than the life she is living now, but that…that is a problem for the future; not one Evan has to think about right now.

"You heard me," Nea's voice cuts through Evan's thoughts. "I see the way you look at her, the way you touch her almost constantly. Meg is a grown woman and I can't tell her who she can and can't have feelings for-"

This makes Evan clear his throat in an attempt to keep his face neutral at the mention of how Meg may feel.

"-But I swear to whatever god there is up there, if any, I will not hesitate to kill you myself if you do anything to hurt her. She trusts you, and even I've warmed up to having you around, but Meg comes first." Nea ends her sentence by dropping her feet from the table and standing up, pointing a finger up at Evan.

"I understand-" he says, looking down at her as she steps forward, jabbing her finger square on his chest.

"No. No I don't think you do," she emphasizes with another jab. "Meg is the most important person to me, and with our rocky past in that hell, I refuse to see her get hurt again by anyone, but especially you. We were in a weird shit hole with all sorts of fucked up power imbalances, but now that we are all human, I will kill you even if I die trying if you do anything to her."

"I understand, but," Evan stands up straight, pushing himself from the counter, adding inches to his height that makes Nea's stern expression on her face falter. "I do not appreciate you insinuating that I have some intention that I am keeping hidden from her."

"Okay but-"

"You said your piece," Evan interrupts, "Now let me say mine. Just as you would clearly die for her, as would I. I don't feel I need to inform you of how I feel, but I will say that we are on the same side."

Nea takes a step back, shrugging her shoulders and looking away while she replies, "Okay, fine. I guess that's good to hear but that still doesn't answer what is going on between you two."

"I…I don't know. All I know is that she has become more important to me than I ever would have imagined."

"Well, that makes two of us," Nea mutters. "But get your shit together and just confess how you feel and get it over with. You're killing us all with your cheesy lovey dovey looks and the constant hand holding. Like come on."

The sudden change in Nea who suddenly seems to get over threatening him makes him laugh, if only to ignore the truth behind her words that Evan doesn't think he wants to know. It's true, and he knows it, but the sooner he admits those feelings, the sooner this may all come to an end.

So he smiles at Nea and nods his head, not promising or saying anything as he turns to grab the two cups of coffee. Just before he walks out of the room he pauses and looks over his shoulder at Nea who begins to make herself her own cup.

"Am I to assume this conversation stays between us?"

Nea thinks about this for a moment before shrugging as she smiles at Evan.

"Dunno. Haven't made up my mind yet. Would it be so terrible if she knew what you said?"

Evan's smile lessens slightly but the feeling of contentment is no less than before.

"I've told her as much already. If you tell her and it comes as a surprise to her, she must not be listening to me as much as I thought."

"You're the only person she listens to, big guy. You've changed her, and honestly, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm jealous but I'm glad that she found whatever she was looking for in you."

Evan hesitates, not sure the implications of Nea's words but instead of choosing to dwell on that, he makes his way back upstairs towards his and Meg's room.

As he reaches the top and carefully opens the door, Meg is already sitting up in bed, looking around until her head snaps over to the door, seeing Evan come inside. For a moment, her face looks panicked, her eyes wide and her back is straight up like she is ready to bolt at a moment's notice. That is until she sees him and immediately her whole demeanor softens.

"Morning," she mumbles, her voice soft and scratchy and it makes his chest flutter as her eyes land on the coffee mug in his hand. Without another word she reaches out her hands and smiles, beaconing for the coffee that he happily hands her as he walks over to the bed and takes a seat on the edge next to her.

Lifting his own mug to his lips, he watches as Meg closes her eyes and inhales deep, smelling the strong scent of the coffee before taking a sip, her face completely and utterly at peace in that moment.

It makes Evan's chest tighten, and although he brought her coffee, he wants to do more, give her more. He wants to make sure she is always looking just as happy as she does right now, so he brings up an idea he has been thinking about for a few days now but hadn't had the courage to yet.

"I was thinking," Evan begins to say as Meg takes another gulp of the coffee, "I think I'm ready to go back into the study. See what we can find, if only a little bit."

Meg's eyes widen as she pauses mid-sip, and Evan begins to worry that she will spill the bitter coffee on the bed if she doesn't lower the mug from her mouth.

"What?" Evan asks when Meg doesn't respond right away. When he thought about the idea, about how he might be ready, he was sure she would want to drag him in there as soon as he brought it up, but the way her hand shakes for just a moment as she swallows another sip makes him question if he truly knows what she wants.

"I mean, are you sure? Are you ready for that?" She asks quietly, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I believe so, yes. It's about time we go in there, isn't it? We already found some useful information last time," Evan has to clear his throat, trying not to think about his mother as he continues. "It couldn't hurt to look some more, I suppose."

"Well," Meg smiles, taking another sip, "I can't say I'm not surprised. I just didn't think this day would come. I'd love to, if you're really up for it."

"I wouldn't have brought it up were I not positive I wanted to go back in there," he replies getting back up, thinking that Meg would want to go down there as soon as possible.

She seems to have gotten the hint and hums, and in just a few sips, Meg finishes her coffee and yawns, raising her arms above her head before she sets the mug down on the bedside table. It is a precious gesture, one that sends waves of warmth through Evan's chest and down further as he can't help but notice the curve of her waist as she stretches and bends to set the mug down. His breathing becomes deeper as he tries to push thoughts from his mind that begin to form. Thoughts he honestly never had about anyone before, not with this intensity at least.

Meg doesn't seem to notice his change in behavior as she begins to rub her eyes with another yawn, and with that, Evan is pulled back into the present as she talks, not noticing how his cheeks grow hot.

"I would love to, but for right now, it's just so early. Can we just lay here for a few minutes? Let the coffee kick in?" Meg mumbles, rubbing her eyes a little too rough to the point where it makes Evan wince just looking at her before he chuckles as he responds.

"Fine, but if only you stop trying to make yourself go blind."

Meg laughs back and squints one eye open at him. "What do you mean?"

"You rub your face with so much force…"

"It's the only way I can wake myself up."

"By tearing the skin around your eyes."

"My skin is perfectly fine. See?" She leans her head forward while closing her eyes, dramatically gesturing around her face.

Although the gesture is innocent and makes Evan smile with her callous disregard for her own skin, his eyes travel to her lips. It would be so easy to grab her face and kiss her, bring her closer to him like he's thought about so many times this last week.

Meg cracks a sleepy eye open and catches him staring, not that it should come as a surprise; he often finds himself staring at her regardless of what's going on around them, but when her smile only grows bigger, he wonders what she is thinking.

"Come on, lie down," she says, grabbing his hand and pulling him back down onto the bed without another word, not that he would have fought it much anyway. He just likes making her happy.

Immediately wanting to pull her close to him as they seem to have gotten used to, Meg stops him with a smile.

"No, roll over."

"What?" This catches Evan off guard, and for a moment he wants to apologize, finally feeling like he may have presumed too much or made her uncomfortable. It was about time, he thought, that she realized what she was doing, and who she was doing it with, but instead of saying anything, Meg takes it upon herself letting out a huff rolling him over away from her.

He lets it happen, not sure what is happening exactly, until he feels Meg's small arm wrap around him as she molds into his back.

"What are you doing?" he asks, feeling her scoot closer to him as she nuzzles her face into his back.

"Holding you like you hold me all the time," she responds, her voice muffled by his shirt.

With a quiet laugh he closes his eyes before he responds, "I realize that, but why?"

"Why not? I can be like a little backpack."

She scoots closer to him, not quite able to pull him closer to her, so he helps her out unsure of how he feels being held like this.

Ever since the night they shared at the hotel, he enjoyed sleeping in the same bed as her, keeping her close in his arms. It made him feel like he was keeping her safe no matter what happened.

But this…his first instinct is to turn around and hold her again. If anything were to happen…if someone were to come in and try to harm her...he wouldn't be able to react fast enough. If she is protected by him…

His thoughts stop as her fingers start rubbing circles on his chest. Her touch is light and the circles are slow, lazy, like she may not even realize she's moving her fingers the way she is, but the small gesture itself makes Evan involuntarily relax while she holds him.

He doesn't even know the last time he was held, if ever, and the thought alone causes him anxiety by not being in control of the situation, but as Meg moves her fingers slowly while gently scooting closer to him with every exhale, he never knew just how much he may not hate being held like she is.

So he'll give her a few more minutes of holding him, curled up into his back before he rolls over and resumes his role of holding her.

Just a few more minutes, to make her happy at least, but as he closes his eyes, his breathing slows in time with hers and soon, they both fall back into a peaceful sleep.

—

Meg doesn't know how long she falls back asleep for, only that she is woken up by a loud bang downstairs.

What was that?

Evan jolts awake at the same time as her, and Meg notices how they stayed in their same positions they were in after he brought in the coffee.

She wasn't sure if he would like her holding him, or if he'd fight it. The second option was a bit more likely in her mind, but it was something she wanted to try for awhile now, and she was just happy that maybe she caught him when he was tired enough, or maybe it was something else.

After all, she really doesn't know him as much as she likes to think she does, and he might enjoy being held…

But no, that just makes her want to laugh out loud.

Evan MacMillan would never seem like the person to want to be held by anyone, and the fact that she was able to is a pleasant shock.

But now isn't the time to think about that.

"Did you hear that?" She asks as Evan bolts upright. She misses the feeling of him in her arms, but that is something for another time, another thought, as he stands up straight, his aura instantly becoming that of something resembling the Trapper. Not him.

"It could have been anyone else downstairs," Meg starts saying as she notices him tense up and her immediate response is to simply calm him down so he doesn't run downstairs like a raging bull. "You know we have like five other people staying here."

"But what would they be doing?" He finally speaks up, not leaving his spot beside the bed like he were waiting for her permission to leave.

"I don't know," she hesitates noticing him tense up even more before giving him a small smile at just how dramatic he can be sometimes. "But it is…" she looks over at a small clock on the bedside table. "How is it already 5 in the afternoon? How did we sleep all day?"

Evan's scowl immediately disappears and is replaced by a look of shock. "It can't be that late."

"Well, your clock could be wrong."

Evan bends down and grabs the clock from Meg's hands and scowls at it, turning it around in his hands before putting it back on the bed and shaking his head.

"We couldn't have slept for nineteen hours. That's impossible."

Meg frowns, knowing that Evan is completely right, but as she looks out the window, the sun has lowered, casting early evening shadows around the room that only adds to the confusion they both feel.

"It looks like it's about to be evening outside," Meg mutters, finally throwing off the blanket from her legs and getting out of bed. Walking over to the window, a sinking feeling begins to make it's way to her chest as she looks around outside. Everything looks as it should with the branches of the trees swaying with the wind and the sun casting more orange rays across the sky as it gets later in the afternoon.

Scanning around the estate, Meg doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary, but for a moment she thinks back to the trials, to the saloon of all places.

The sunset, the eerie way the sun shone through the clouds making everything have an orange-yellow hue to it, and the way she could never fully tell if it was evening or early morning reminds her much of how it looks outside now. Although she thinks of that particular place, she doesn't let her mind think about how time never seemed to exist with the Entity, and how she wondered if they were out of the laws of time, or even if the Entity could bend the rules of time itself to fit anything it wanted to make them believe.

She doesn't want to think about how nineteen hours seemed to go by in a flash, so she simply takes in a deep breath and shrugs her shoulders before turning back to Evan.

"I guess we were just tired."

Evan doesn't seem convinced in the slightest as he stares at her, his eyes shifting from her, to the window, and back to her once more before letting out a hum of disapproval, but not saying anything more.

Any other time, Meg thinks she would bring it up, maybe want to find out what happened, but in that moment, the loss of time almost becomes too much as she feels a pinch radiating to her shoulder and down her back, as well as tingling in her ankles.

Swallowing the strange sensations her body feels, she decides to ignore it, chalk it up to mere paranoia.

That's normal after what they all went through, right? She is overthinking, so she decides to change the subject.

"Well, lets go downstairs," Meg suggests, walking closer to Evan with a smile, a smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes. "We can see what the others are up to, and maybe take a peek in the study if you're still up for it."

Evan nods before turning around, and despite his aggravation at the noise, or hesitance at whatever could have caused it, he goes first, leading the way out of the room and down the creaky stairs.

As they near the downstairs landing, silence is the only thing that greets them as they descend, and Meg notices all of the shoes are missing from the front entrance.

"Maybe that bang was them leaving and slamming the door?" Meg speaks up, her mind still on the conversation from earlier.

Evan makes a strange grunt as he goes into the living room without another word. She doesn't follow him as she walks into the kitchen, checking to see if anyone was still around but instead, she is met with a lone paper on the kitchen counter that wasn't there before.

Her heart begins to race, thinking about the letter Jed left them when he took Claudette, but as she gets closer, she immediately sees that the writing is smaller, more slanted, and most definitely not from him.

"Went out. Be back later. Bringing back things from store. Probably will get some drinks. Feel free to meet us…unless you two want alone time ;) Just warn us before we get home. We have a phone.

-Nea"

Meg sets down the note and flattens the top edge that curls in on itself as she stares at Nea's writing. Ignoring the words themselves, Meg stares at the way Nea's letters seem to all connect like a sloppy version of cursive, and how she doesn't even bother to dot her 'i's. It's an odd thing for Meg to be entranced by, and she knows this, but just then it dawns on her that she has never seen her best friend's handwriting before.

She doesn't know how any of their handwriting looks, and if she is honest, she doesn't even think she remembers her own handwriting. Sure, she took some fake notes when she talked to Matt, the security guard, but her own handwriting looked foreign to her.

So before she goes back to find Evan, she looks at Nea's handwriting one more time, smiling at the way she curls the ends of her y's and g's, which is something she never would have imagined Nea to do.

Finally looking away from the note, Meg walks out of the kitchen to find Evan standing near the study, hovering in front of the closed doors.

"Everyone's gone out, I guess," Meg announces, vaguely gesturing to the note she left behind in the kitchen. "So we have the place to ourselves. Lots of time to explore the study uninterrupted, I guess."

As she gets to the doorway, she is able to see his usual scowl etched deep in his face, so without another thought she lifts a hand and rests it on his forearm before giving it a gentle squeeze. Almost instantly, Evan's demeanor changes as he turns to face her, his face and shoulders looking more relaxed than they did just a few seconds ago.

"Want me to go first?" She asks, giving him a reassuring smile as she raises her eyebrows.

"No," Evan replies, grabbing Meg's hand and giving it a squeeze before letting it go, his own hand falling to his side. "But thank you."

Pushing the doors open, he walks inside and looks around like he is truly seeing it for the first time. Before, when they found his mother's diary, Meg remembers him beelining over to a shelf, and she wonders if he ever has seen the study in all its glory without the fear of his father coming in and interrupting him.

After taking a deep breath, he walks over to the desk, running a few fingers over the dark wood as Meg joins him in the middle of the room. The papers from the last time she was in here are right where they left them, scattered across the desk in disarray. As Meg glances up at Evan, his eyes roam the desk but don't seem to settle on anything in particular. After his eyes glance from one end of the desk to the other a few times, he walks over to the windows on the other side of the room and stares out at the vast trees that line the back of the house.

"I always imagined my father standing here. Sometimes I'd be coming back from the mines and see him through these very windows…just watching. It was almost as though he were waiting for something," Evan muses to himself, like Meg isn't there, so she decides not to comment more than a small sound of acknowledgement.

Evan stands there for a few minutes more, stoic, unmoving, so Meg decides to begin searching in the drawers of the desk as Evan stands there, gaining the courage to break the seal in a room that holds too many secrets for him.

After opening the top drawer, she comes across a small portrait, almost identical to the one Evan has in his room upstairs, of both Archie and Evan.

Evan looks young, maybe early 20s, Meg's age, and his dad, older, has both of his hands grasping his own coat as Evan stands beside him, his brow furrowed as he glares into the camera. The picture itself doesn't seem to convey any happiness, and Meg wonders if she should even bring it up.

Her question is answered as Evan appears from behind her unknowingly.

"I didn't know he kept that in here," he says, making Meg jump and drop the picture with a loud crash, glass shattering around them from the frame.

"For a large guy, you're surprisingly light on your feet when you want to be," Meg says, already bending down to pick the picture back up, careful not to cut her fingers on the broken glass that now litters the floor.

Evan chuckles behind her, the first sound of anything pleasant from him in awhile, and that alone sends waves of calm through Meg, easing her trembling hands and rampant nerves.

"Don't bother picking that up," Evan speaks up again as Meg tries to maneuver it through the glass frame. "It's not worth it."

"Are you sure?" Meg hesitates, still gripping one of the bottom edges of the picture, "There must be a reason he kept a picture of you two in here," she says, trying to reassure him of…something. Maybe deep down inside Archie MacMillan's twisted mind, he might have had some sort of pride that Evan was his son. At least that's what Meg hoped was the reason…but without a doubt she almost knew that couldn't be the case.

That was too simple.

"Not a good reason, I can almost guarantee that," Evan mutters, already looking through the drawer Meg found the picture in.

A moment later, he pulls out a small black leather journal that catches Meg's eye as she brings up the picture, laying it on the desk carefully on top of the discarded papers she saw from before.

"What's that?" she asks as Evan holds it in his hands. The journal makes Evan's hands look absolutely giant with how small it is, but that doesn't stop him from opening it to the first page.

Meg closes her eyes for a moment, almost in a way of mentally preparing herself for what they could see, but when she opens them, she is confused.

Looking at Evan, his face scrunches up and turns a shade of pink, to red in seconds as he slams the book shut and walks back to the window.

Meg wants to ask, wants to clarify what it is she saw, but as Evan huffs behind her, she doesn't know if she should. Not when his shoulders move up and down in time with his rapid breathing that she can hear from the desk.

So instead, she gives him a moment as she opens the book once more for just her.

The front page is littered with numbers. Each line is filled together in a similar way, and if Meg wasn't mistaken, they almost looked like coordinates. If it was only one or two, maybe that would be more suspicious to her, but the whole page was filled, and that was enough to confuse her on why this could make Evan so mad.

As she scanned the numbers looking for any sort of pattern or rhyme or reason to write them down, Evan's breathing from behind her slows and she turns to him, journal still in hand.

"So…" she starts, swallowing a lump in her throat, "I'm assuming you know what these are?"

Evan's neck and back tense at her question, but he speaks almost immediately.

"They're coordinates. To houses. Our workers would build houses in the woods, and they never knew how my father would find them so easily. He had the damn coordinates the whole time…"

"But," Meg scowls as she walks closer to Evan, still staring at the book. "If they were building houses here, didn't they get permission from Archie? Why even build houses in these woods in the first place?"

"No. They built them in secret because they couldn't go home. They…" Evan clears his throat and turns around to face the desk. "My father expected them to be here beyond any sort of realistic hour, so some began to take shelter in the woods. Often they had no home to go back to, or had no time to go back home and come back to work. They'd even build secret rooms within the poorly constructed cabins they built. Just incase my father or one of his cronies found them, they could have a chance to hide."

"So how did Archie get the coordinates to all of them if they were supposed to be so secretive?"

Evan doesn't respond as he shrugs, shaking his head as he finally looks back down at the book.

"I wonder if they're still there," Meg mutters, intrigued enough to want to go check them out, especially having the exact coordinates in the palm of her hand. She's already living in an old relic, what difference would it make to go and see if other buildings are still standing? Maybe they'll have even more information.

She doubts it.

But her and Evan seem to have all the time in the world now.

Meg turns the page in the book, expecting more coordinates, but instead there is small, neat writing.

"July 18 th , 1854.

Today is the day my life has changed forever. My wife, my lovely Arlene, woke early this morning with intense pains, and at first we panicked, thinking the worst: something is wrong with the baby.

It wasn't until we had called upon our midwife to come that we discovered that, as fate would have it, today would be the day our baby is born into the world. I am not much of a wordsmith, nor am I a writer, but I wanted to begin this diary to give to my son one day. Perhaps it won't mean anything, or perhaps I'll change my mind, but if I can write down my own fatherly teachings, maybe that can help him someday.

That being said, the feelings I had seeing Arlene give birth to our beautiful son were, without a doubt, out of this world. I thought I had known strength, and I never believed that to come from my wife until today. I can only hope to bring my own strength into our son's life. I still haven't held him since I was called to the mines.

I will begin to put my family first, I know that. Business is important; it is my legacy I can pass on, but my family needs me.

After watching my wife give birth and seeing her create life, I thought today couldn't get any weirder, that was until I left the mines.

I heard whispers, deep, foreboding. I couldn't make them out, and maybe they came from my employees somewhere, but I got a chill down my spine thinking about it.

If what I saw today was out of the realm of possibility, then who knows what that could have been?

Tomorrow I'll go back and check the mines before the workers come in. See if I can find anything hiding in there.

Right now though, I must go back. Arlene and Evan need me, and I can't let them down.

July 19 th , 1854

I went into the mines and the whispers were louder somehow, yet didn't seem to come from any outside source. The voice came from within me, filling my head with whispers in a language I've never heard. Although I cannot understand this foreign tongue, I think I know what it says. It fills my head with ideas of riches, of opportunity, of growth, of…power. Everything I've ever wanted, everything I've ever worked for. I don't know what it wants, but I know what it promises. I stood in those mines for almost two hours, not realizing how much time passed before my employees began filtering in for the morning. The whispers promptly went away. I want them back.

July 31 st , 1854

I've been so…angry lately. I realize this and yet there is nothing that helps. I try to talk to Arlene, but what does she know? She has been so caught up with Evan, she hasn't even taken care of herself. I don't even know the last time she bathed; she was revolting she…

The last line was crossed out, Meg can't read what it says so she continues reading on.

I don't know what I'm saying. I'm sorry for whoever finds this. The intent mere pages ago was to give this to Evan, but he can't see this. He never can. I don't even know who I am apologizing to. I know I'm not thinking straight.

Perhaps it is the stress of a newborn. That must be it. A newborn and a fairly new business to run. It is a lot. I haven't heard the whispers for a few days.

December 5 th , 1854

I almost forgot about this. I suppose I could keep track of what is going on as of now. Evan is almost five months old and I feel I have been increasingly growing apart from Arlene. She looks at me with emotions I don't quite understand. Before Evan, she looked at me with love, admiration, but now there is no warmth in her eyes. No spark in her touch and no passion in her body, and I'm not sure what has changed. I have been going to the mines more, trying to find the whispers from before, the promises, the guarantees that everything will be worth it.

A thought came to mind the other day while I was in the mines, one that I have never thought. Perhaps I need to be more ruthless. My employees stroll in late, production has been slow as of late, and although it is winter, I expect some level of production to move along. I need to step up my game, show them I mean business and nothing bad will happen.

January 1 st , 1855

I…The whispers told me something the other day and…I followed it. I think I may have killed someone yesterday, last night to be exact. I saw the rock falling, I saw my employee standing near it and I did nothing. I wanted to warn him, I had plenty of time, but the whispers filled my mind as soon as I began to move.

If my employees did their job correctly, that rock wouldn't have been so unstable. If they listened…

So I watched as the rock fell. His blood splattered across the rocks and onto our new lights.

It cast an eerie red glow across the hall and everyone froze in spot, listening to the deafening silence that followed the crack of Bill's skull.

I went home to find my home empty. A note is all I found. Arlene took Evan to her mother's house for the weekend. A getaway. She can't leave.

February 4 th , 1855

Arlene wants to leave. I know she does. She told me as much last night. Said something about how I'm changing. How I'm becoming ruthless. That's a good thing, I tell her. She doesn't know how it is to run a business. She doesn't know much, not when it comes to the real world. She has been shielded by her family, her money, her status as a woman, never having any real problems. Us men, we take care of them, we have the real burden, and then they come to us with the thought that they aren't being treated fairly.

I have given her everything, and she has only been ungrateful. The whispers are making more sense. I need Evan to be on my side. Be a real man. Not have the influence of some pansy woman.

July 18 th , 1855

Evan is one today. Arlene has stayed in her room with Evan for the last few weeks. I have given her chance upon chance to let him out, let her walk the ground as she used to, yet she won't listen. She talks of change, of how I'm not the man she wanted a family with. Nonsense. I am simply more…concentrated. My view before was too broad, I wanted too many things. But now, now I've decided. I must continue on this path should I want what the whispers promise. Power. I will be powerful, there is no doubt about that.

July 12 th , 1865

I had thought I lost this journal from the last entry, not that I minded much. I never kept up on it, nor did I feel the need to, but it was rather eye opening, to say the least, reading back on my entries from a few years ago. The whispers were new, were less understood. Arlene was still revolting against me. My workers stepped all over me.

Not now.

My workers are in line like worker bees, listening to me, never wanting to fall out of line for who knows what could await them. The ones I have had to reprimand haven't come back yet, either from the hospital or from the woods. I've paid off the doctors in town, the law enforcement. Money runs everything these days and I am left alone to my own lucrative business.

As for Arlene, that snake. I know she's planning on taking Evan away from me…she is conspiring with one of my most trusted, Waylon. It hurt once I found out, I am not a heartless monster despite what rumors are spread about me, but to know she would go so far as to go behind my back after everything I've given her…after everything I've done.

The whispers have made more sense, like a second language. It tells me stories of a new land, somewhere my mind cannot seem to wrap itself around, but I trust what it says. I just need to make a gateway of sorts. A sacrifice is what the whispers want. I tried with my rather lazy, lonely, and unimportant employees first. Nothing happened, it needed more.

I think I know what I have to do now. I think I've always known.

This is for Evan.

For our family.

He'll understand someday.

He doesn't need such a traitorous woman to be his mother.

Not anymore.

August 1 st , 1865

Arlene is gone.

Washed away with the waves like the fleeting memories of her. I was filled with inexplainable emotions once more, much like the day Evan was born, but this time felt different. I thought of how I loved her once, how she loved me long ago. We were inseparable. She was different, though she would tell me I changed. I simply became more reasonable, more proactive in bettering my future, which in turn would better hers if she simply stayed in line.

She had her own ideas of what was best for our family, my family, my son. I know him better than anyone. He will not be weak. Will not be like her. I just hope this was enough to make the gateway the whispers have been talking about for years now.

I've done so much.

November 18 th , 1865

It wasn't enough. I should have known. One measly woman would never be enough. Evan has been upset about the loss of his mother and he has taken to the arts as a way to cope. What a pansy way of living. My son would never be caught dead being an artist, no. I'll make sure he never wants to touch the stuff again. The whispers tell me he needs to be strong. He's the key, I think. The key to what I've been working for…though the promise seems to be getting farther and farther away.

It's been eleven years since I first heard the Entity. What more must I do?

There are pages missing, Meg notices as she runs her finger down the torn paper from the journal. Maybe the missing pages are in the study somewhere. Maybe they're right here on his desk. But as she looks up at Evan with a quick glance, he seems to be still just as enraptured in the journal as before, so she continues reading the entries.

Another thing she notices is how messier the writing gets as the years pass. The lines become more erratic, squiggly even, which is a vast difference from his neat cursive from before.

September 9 th , 1870

I can feel it in my bones. The Entity. It grows more powerful each day. It has been…years since Arlene, and now I believe that it did help. It created a tiny rift, something so small. I have discovered I simply have to make the rift bigger. I need to hire more employees.

June 3 rd , 1875

I've begun to hear a strange sad tune, distant guitar strums, whenever I enter the mines. I know none of my idiotic employees know the first thing about music. It can't be them. What is it?

October 31 st , 1883

I've begun hearing Evan's name in the garbled language that comes from the Entity. The more I do to broaden the rift, let the Entity in, the more distant the whispers get. I think it doesn't want me, but the promises of riches, of power, all of that is still there, I know it is. Perhaps it is Evan that needs to strengthen the rift. I've tried teaching that boy to be more ruthless, merciless even, and yet he defends those maggots he works with. He doesn't know a single thing about being a man. I'll teach him. I'll show him. It's about time I have an excuse to use any means necessary.

There is a pound on the desk that makes Meg jump and drop the journal from her shaking hands.

"I've seen enough," Evan mutters, rubbing at his face with one large hand. "I need a drink," he continues mumbling, already walking out of the study, leaving Meg standing alone holding the book that she isn't sure she even wants to look at anymore.

She wanted answers, and unfortunately, she got some.

Careful what you wish for, she thinks bitterly to herself before setting the book down and walking out of the room quietly. She can't explain it, but although she was alone in the room, it felt like there was something else there, something else entirely forcing her out, making her feel unwelcome, and if Meg believed in ghosts, she might have thought it was Archie himself.

But ghosts aren't real.

What is dead stays dead, Meg always thought…that was up until pretty recently, so, pausing briefly in the doorway, she looks over her shoulder at the empty room and shrugs.

Who knows?

Evan is already in the other room near the small bar, pouring himself a glass of amber liquid that he downs in one gulp before pouring more, mumbling to himself.

"He knew all along…"

He gulps down the shot and pours another, prompting Meg to walk towards him, perhaps even stopping him from drinking so fast before he suddenly turns and sits in one of the armchairs that face the fire, still seemingly talking to himself.

"I knew he killed her…I knew it. He did everything to prove it except telling me directly or showing me her body."

A twinge of pain shoots through Meg's chest as she slowly walks beside where Evan sits in the armchair.

"I know how he felt about her. He never loved her, and he despised how she treated me - like a real person - and when she disappeared…I knew it was him," Evan continues mumbling, already throwing back the small amount of whiskey in his glass down his throat before getting up to pour more. "I could have lived a decent life…a life without…"

He pauses. His back is turned to Meg but she sees his shoulders tense beneath his shirt as he slowly lowers the whiskey back to the table.

His last words hang in the air between them even if he wasn't talking to her directly. But he doesn't need to finish his sentence, she knows exactly what he was going to say whether he said it or not.

A life without the Entity.

He would have lived and died long before Meg was even a thought, long before her parents were born, long before she ever existed.

And that thought itself was enough to make Meg freeze along with Evan, the two of them thinking about what could have been had he never got sent there.

Had he never killed those people.

Had he never become a murderer.

After a few seconds of silence that seem to last too long for Meg's liking, he pulls another glass out and pours a bit of whiskey into each glass before setting the bottle down with an unnaturally quiet clink.

Turning around, he hands Meg one of the glasses and goes back to the chair near the fire, and when Meg doesn't join him immediately, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose, his face virtually unreadable.

Normally Meg knows what he's thinking, or has come to at least have a pretty good clue, but after this…she doesn't know, not exactly.

His outburst brings a whole other beast into her mind.

Sure, it is almost a given that the years spent in the realm were years any of them would want back. No one in their right mind would want to be there, experiencing the inhuman pain, suffering, and torture all of them, including Evan, went through, but what would her life be now without it?

She can hardly begin to imagine it…or even imagine a life without her friends.

A life without Evan.

Is that something he could easily give up if he had the option?

Is it something she could give up?

"Join me?" Evan's voice cuts through the silence, his question more of a suggestion, a demand, than anything else, but Meg listens, walking around and joining him on the other side of the chair he sits at.

As she passes by to go sit in the chair opposite of him, before Meg can react, he grabs her wrist and gently yet forcefully pulls her towards him, catching her off guard so she falls into his lap. That seemed to be his plan as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her towards him, encompassing her so she rests against his broad chest.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles into her shoulder, his voice muffled by her hair as he bends down and rests his face in the small curve between her shoulder and neck.

She can feel his breath on her skin causing odd feelings to travel up and down her whole body.

"It's okay," she laughs out awkwardly at the sudden apology and, well, the fact that he pulled her onto his lap. Her drink begins to spill out onto her pants, and although it was just a few drops, it was enough to snap her mind back to the drink and not how warm Evan's breath feels against her neck and how his lips would feel if he started kissing her…

Pushing that thought from her mind, she downs the whiskey in one sip and shivers against Evan before she speaks again. "What're you sorry for?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just breathing in as his hands wrap around her sides to find her own hands that rest on her lap.

"Everything. Today, right now, before…I…"

This doesn't take Meg by surprise, not yet anyway, as she has began to grow accustomed to Evan's apologies for the last few weeks, but the journal and everything it said must have some impact.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks, referring to Archie's journal, his confession of…everything ranging from killing Evan's mom, the motives behind it, his descent into madness, into cruelty, and the realization that the Entity wasn't something new for Evan, it had been influencing his life from the day he was born.

Meg wasn't sure how she would feel if she found out everything he did in that moment, but then again…the question comes into her mind, what if the Entity's influence was in all of them from the day they were born? Is their very existence predetermined in some way just to be stuck in a sort of Hell forever?

That can't be…can it?

Before Meg can think too much on her own life, she leans back into Evan's chest, gripping his hands within hers as she rubs small circles with her thumb across the back of his hand absentmindedly.

"So?" She prompts again when he doesn't answer.

"Tell me about you. Something before the Entity," he says with no hesitation in his voice.

"What?"

"I want to hear about you growing up. I don't want to think…" he clears his throat. "I'd rather talk about something else."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"Anything."

Meg thinks about this for a bit, trying to find some important thing to tell him, but nothing comes to mind. Either she begins to think about certain aspects of her childhood, the pain, the bullying, the loneliness, or she thinks about her mom, and she isn't sure if she wants to share that, not yet anyway, but then a certain memory comes to mind.

"Well you know that my father left us when I was young," Meg begins to say, a bit to herself. "And my mom got sick. Cancer. I dropped out of school for a bit, a few months really until she forced me to go back, but I worked by ass off trying to help pay for her medical bills. They were piling up and my mom only continued to get sicker despite everything the doctors tried to do."

"I'm so sorry," Evan whispers, his arms wrapped around her waist as he squeezes Meg's hands within his own. Gripping tight, she doesn't let go as the side of her mouth tugs into a smile.

"It's okay. She got better, for a little bit until the cancer came back. It always came back…but that wasn't my point. My point," she squeezes his hand as she looks away into the dancing flames of the fire to her side. "Was that there was this day that I got to take her out of the hospital for a few hours, or rather, I snuck her out of the hospital because she wanted to leave too but the doctors said it wasn't healthy for her. But one day we didn't listen, so when we got out into the car, like Thelma and Louise, we felt like we had completed some major heist or something."

"Thelma and Louise?" Evan asks, interrupting her story.

"Oh, well…that's not important," Meg says, waving her free hand at him before continuing. "That was after your time. But I just remember how the sun felt on our faces. It was just a normal April day. There was nothing special about it, but everything around us just seemed so…alive. Maybe it was because we felt so close to death, that anything keeping us breathing felt incredible."

Meg stops for a moment, clearing her throat before she quickly wipes away hot tears that form in her eyes. Evan gives her time, not questioning the criminal duo she compared her and her mom to, or any other inconsistency on her part. Swallowing down tears, she exhales slowly.

"We passed by this small church. The parking lot was empty and we had just stopped and grabbed some fast food. I don't even know what it was now. But we wanted to eat before taking her back. We had already warned the nurses station by this time so at least the cops wouldn't be called, but our time outside was running out, and we knew it. So we sat at this church eating our burgers and milkshakes as the sun warmed everything around us. Then…okay I know how this is going to sound, but just stick with me."

"I have so far," Evan gives her hand a squeeze.

Smiling, Meg continues.

"So, the sun must have hit the church just right, and suddenly the parking lot and our car was bathed in different colors of light that came from the stained glass that lined the church's windows. It was…something else entirely. In that moment, I thought I believed in God, or some sort of god. I believed in something more than humanity, but as the sun faded and we drove back to the hospital, that belief quickly faded again."

"What happened once you got back to the hospital?" Evan asks, resting his cheek against the top of Meg's head.

"We got her back inside," Meg sighs, scooting closer to him, getting comfortable. "The doctors and nurses weren't happy one bit. But…it meant everything for us in that moment. It still does. I think. I've never forgotten how it felt to be there with her in that stuffy car, eating hot greasy fries, as some sort of godly sign came to us in that moment," Meg finishes with a laugh. "It sounds stupid, I know."

"I don't think it sounds stupid. Though I gather that you're not religious," Evan observes .

"I never felt like I was given a reason to be. I know how selfish that sounds but...I suppose now it would be silly to think that there's nothing else out there, right? We've seen some form of…something. An afterlife? Another god? Whatever the Entity is, so whose to say there's nothing else out there?" Meg says with a shrug, and within the silence that follows her question, Evan simply nods and motions for her to get up from his lap as he stands and walks over to the bar, grabs the bottle of whiskey, not even bothering to pour it into his glass, as he walks back over to the fire.

Meg, feeling a bit dizzy when she stands, sits on the floor in front of the fire, enjoying how warm it feels on her skin, almost like how the sun felt in the story she told. She doesn't get up even as Evan comes back over, and without a word, he joins her on the floor on the dark rug.

Taking a swig right out of the bottle, Evan lets out a hiss as he swallows the harsh liquor and hands the bottle to Meg who follows suit immediately.

As the minutes pass, Evan begins to ask more about Meg, and quickly the two spend the next few hours exchanging stories, most of them light-hearted, surprisingly enough, like the time Evan went swimming for the first time and thought seaweed was a monster about to attack him, and how he still hasn't gone back in the water.

Or the time where Meg shaved off her eyebrows as a dare when she was ten because she had to prove she wasn't scared of anything.

The stories they exchange go from more serious to things that simply make them happy, and as Evan talks, his voice light, she stares at the dimple in his cheek and the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he's truly happy.

She really likes seeing him like this, and she feels like she can spend the rest of eternity listening to his stories. Never thinking she could feel like this, she finds herself craving to know the man beside her. To get to know more about his life before he was taken. It has been wonderful for her to get to know him as a person, but he lived a life that she knows nothing about, and it would be nice to find some of that out. Even the little things.

She wants to know more about his friends, his hobbies, if he had any, his dreams…

Everything.

So as she listens, the alcohol settles in Meg's stomach and creates a warm feeling that tingles from her very core out to the tips of her fingers and up to her cheeks. Between the fire in front of her and the whiskey, her cheeks begin to burn, not that she minds much, at least not in that moment, and when there is a lull in the conversation after their laughter at Meg's latest story, a thought comes into her mind about a previous conversation they had.

"Well now I have a question for you," she says, poking at Evan's upper arm. "When we drank last, you assumed I would have drank for my wedding, right? Well how about yourself? Were you ever married? Had any lady friends?"

"Lady friends?" He repeats cocking an eyebrow up at her with a smirk.

"Yeah. Lady friends," Meg repeats slower, giving him a wink while she elbows him in the side.

Taking a dramatically long time to answer, Evan looks at Meg through the corner of his eye before letting out a chuckle at Meg's intense stare as she waits for his answer with bated breath.

"No," he finally answers with a laugh. "Never married. My father tried to arrange a marriage for me to help with his business, but I refused."

"Why?"

Evan pauses for a moment before taking another drink of the whiskey. "I wasn't going to drag some poor woman into my father's life. Naturally, I would do what I could to protect her from him, but I wasn't going to risk another life be ruined due to his own greed and selfish gain."

"That was probably the right call."

With a small smile, Evan nods. "I suppose so. I never had much of a realistic notion of what a healthy marriage should look like due to seeing how my own parents were, but I'm glad I never rushed into anything for the sake of how my family would be viewed."

"I could only imagine."

Evan's smile fades as he closes his eyes for a moment. Meg, for once, isn't sure what to say so she takes another sip of the bitter whiskey. As a shiver runs down her spine she continues.

"Having your own life made out to be the talk of the town would be hard enough, but even having such a personal aspect of marriage be so political seems insane. I never thought too much about the prospect of marriage, or true love, or any of that. It all seemed so…unrealistic."

"How so?" Evan asks, tilting his head to the side at Meg's words.

"I never understood the appeal of having to be stuck with the same person day in and day out for the rest of your life through the worst most ugly parts of each other's lives, and the thought of still being truly in love through any of that seemed crazy."

"Seemed crazy? Have you changed your perspective on that?"

That question hits Meg like a ton of bricks, making her cheeks burn as she looks away.

"Well, I mean, I never thought I'd have to spend eternity with the same people, and when it seemed more and more possible that I was only ever going to see my friends until the end of time…I realized how trivial my previous thinking was. It was easy to love them when we were in a situation like that. It was either that, or spend eternity hating each other."

Evan remains silent for a moment with an odd expression on his face like that wasn't quite what he expected to hear, but Meg doesn't notice, doesn't even think to notice as she takes another sip of whiskey, making her vision double for a second or two.

"May I ask another personal question?" Evan asks, focusing Meg's mind back onto their conversation.

"Well that's what we've been doing all night, isn't it?" she laughs, giving him a small punch on his arm before rolling her eyes.

Evan rolls his eyes back but smiles, the dimple showing in his cheek that creates butterflies in Meg's stomach.

"Talking about love and spending eternity with your friends, was there ever anything between you and your friend, Nea? You two seem awfully close."

Meg's eyebrows shoot up her forehead before she erupts into laughter making Evan scowl beside her.

"Me? And Nea?" Meg spits out in between giggles. "No…oh God no. We are just best friends. She's like my sister. Oh god…no. Nea?"

"Well she said something earlier that made me curious," Evan defends crossing his arms across his chest.

"And what did she say?"

"Well, it was along the lines of how she is…jealous of what you've found in our…friendship. It simply made me wonder, is all."

"Oh! That? No…look…Nea is my best friend and I guess…" The fun atmosphere that danced around them just seconds ago seems to disappear as Meg's voice gets quieter. "It might be because while we were in the realm, we were inseparable. We may as well have been glued at the hip. That was unless we were called to different trials, but around the campfire, we were a nuisance to everyone," Meg laughs. "Seriously, people hated us a lot of the time."

"I doubt that to be true," Evan replies, shaking his head at Meg's absurd statement.

"Okay, well, we usually would just gang up on everyone so we were a team. And maybe now…I don't know. I feel bad that I haven't spent as much time with her as I used to."

"Well what's keeping you from that? Here you two may do as you please."

With a sigh, Meg rolls her eyes and looks up at Evan, her face completely unamused.

"Really? It may have to do with the six foot eleven, bald-"

"I'm not bald anymore-" Evan interrupts, rubbing his growing hair.

"Fine, used to be bald man that I like to keep around too. Now before you say it, I know you aren't keeping me from my friends," Meg says quickly, already noticing how Evan scowls at the mention that he may be taking her away from her friends. "I love spending my time with you. Genuinely. I think it is just taking Nea a little bit of…adjusting."

"As long as you do not feel that I am keeping you from your friends-"

"I don't," Meg says bluntly, not letting Evan finish his thought. "Don't worry."

Their hands find each other in the small space between them, and as their fingers interlock and Evan gives her hand a small squeeze, Meg coughs, her throat feeling a little dry and the last thing she wants to try and help is more whiskey.

As if reading her mind, Evan laughs as he talks once more.

"Here, allow me to get us some water," he suggests as he pushes himself up from the ground. His knee pops loud enough for Meg to hear as she lets out a snort.

"Your joints not cooperating?" She says, trying to stifle another laugh. "Never thought I'd see the day where the Trapper would have noisy, cracking bones."

"Okay, okay. Maybe being out in the real world isn't all it…cracked up to be," he says dryly before pausing at looking at Meg like he was looking for a reaction.

"You…that…was that a joke? Did you just tell a joke?" Meg stutters, completely taken aback by whatever pun just came out of Evan's mouth. "And since when are you one for jokes?"

"Since a few minutes ago, I suppose. Perhaps your friends are rubbing off on me."

"I knew you'd warm up to Ace's lame attempts at puns. They're quite endearing after you get over your initial disgust of just how bad they are."

Evan lets out a quiet laugh as he stands up fully. "I'll be right back."

Meg nods as she looks back at the fire, a smile so big plastered on her face, she doesn't know if it could ever go away.

There isn't much Meg Thomas believes in, but whatever has happened tonight is enough to make her feel like maybe everything won't be so bad.

Maybe there is something looking out for them, something, somewhere.

Through the week of being with Evan, truly being with him day-to-day, she has learned so much, and especially after tonight, she realizes that the more she learns, the more she wants to know.

Not long after Evan left, she hears his surprisingly light footsteps come back to the living room, and as Evan enters the room, two waters in hand, he stops in the doorway, staring at Meg. For a moment, she wonders if something is wrong, if there's something behind her, something she isn't aware of as his look of shock melts more into something resembling admiration. His jaw drops just a bit, not too much, but just enough for his lips to part slightly, as his eyes find hers.

"What?" She asks, rubbing her arm and looking away, suddenly feeling self-conscious sitting on the floor in front of him.

"You…you just look so beautiful," Evan whispers softly, genuinely.

"Thanks, you too," Meg replies, and then she winces which only makes Evan chuckle as he finally steps back into the room. "I mean-"

"I know what you mean. Thank you," Evan laughs, bending down to hand her the water before taking his seat beside her once more.

As he sits, the two stare at each other, as they do often, but this time Meg feels that she can truly see the man in front of her. She has learned so much within the last few hours, and not that she even believed that anything could change her mind on how she viewed him now, the way he sits there makes him seem like a completely different man than she had ever thought him to be.

There are times she still sees The Trapper in him, as they are one in the same, but right now as he sways just a little while sitting on the ground with her, already reaching out and resting his hand on her thigh like that's the only logical place to have it is enough to send her mind whirling.

The fact that she could find out anything about the Trapper, have a logical conversation with him, enjoy his company, and even crave his presence, his touch, is the only thing on her mind as he turns to her, his face stoic. His brow creases just a bit in the middle as he raises his other hand and brushes hair from Meg's face, tucking it behind her ear as he exhales slowly.

Her breath catches in her chest, unable to inhale or exhale with him as they both stare at each other, their eyes meeting before flicking down to each other's lips and back up as though reading each other's mind.

Meg swallows a lump in her throat as her stomach flips before Evan speaks, his voice so quiet she can barely hear.

"You've been drinking."

"So have you," Meg responds, her voice strained at the sudden realization on what she wants to happen.

All those thoughts from the past week that she fights off like a dangerous predator, she lets come crashing in like a tidal wave, taking over her chest, her mind, her heart, as she stares up at Evan, the one man she logically should not want to kiss.

She shouldn't want to know how his lips feel on hers, or how his hands would feel roaming her body with more intensity than ever before, or how strong he is and how she wants to feel every inch of him beneath her fingertips.

As though reading her mind, Evan swallows hard, his hand still resting on her face, his eyes leaving her lips as they slowly trace her body.

Meg thinks back to the Clown, and how he made her feel gross, disgusted, violated as he did the same, but Evan is a completely different story. This is what she wants, and goddammit she doesn't want to hold it in anymore.

Right before she says anything, Evan breaks the silence.

"Why do you trust me? After everything…"

This question is the last thing Meg expects to hear, and she doesn't answer right away. Like a bucket of cold water is splashed on her, she recoils slightly, the burning intensity of her cheeks cools rapidly as well as her heart beating in her chest like she was running a marathon.

Mulling the question over in her mind, she isn't quite sure what to say, so she settles on the first words that come to mind.

"You make me feel safe, which is a feeling I have come to depend on, but I can understand if you don't want that responsibility. You never signed up for that."

Meg isn't sure what reaction she expects from Evan. Through her hazy mind she almost expects him to pull her close like he often does, squeeze her hand, brush her hair from her face, reassure her that he wasn't leaving like he has done almost nonstop since everything between them has changed. Although she expects this, the fact that he doesn't do any of those things doesn't come as a shock.

While growing closer, she has known there has to be something that will happen. Maybe she'll come to her senses, maybe it would be revealed Evan was lying the whole time and was actually working against them, and neither option would come as a surprise.

But as Evan remains unmoving, a look overcomes his face that she hasn't seen in awhile. His face hardens into a mask like he's around an employee, a stranger, someone he hasn't spent the last week with constantly, someone that he has said over and over again that he'd protect with his life.

Nerves grow in Meg's stomach, making her feel sick with the alcohol not helping the situation.

"Evan?" She asks, her voice sounding too high for her ears.

"You…" Evan begins, his voice clipped as he drops his hand from her face. "You shouldn't feel that way."

Meg lets out a surprised laugh, not quite believing him telling her that she shouldn't feel like that, especially when he has spent so much time trying to make her believe she is safe around him.

"What do you mean? You can't be serious," she responds. She could almost convince herself he is about to tell a very flat joke, one that doesn't amuse her in that moment, but she knows him, even if a little bit by now, and his face and voice is anything but joking.

"No, Meg...that came out wrong."

"You think?"

He stares back at her, taking his hand away from hers and rubbing his chin. "I am aware of what I've said before and I have meant every word, but I have been in the wrong. I should not be convincing you that you're safe with me. You deserve so much more than this, Meg Thomas. So much more than being here with me."

"What do you mean?" She laughs with no humor behind her voice, "I have been gone for ten years, ten long, painful, excruciating years, and I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't know what I do or don't deserve, but you make me feel that maybe…"

She trails off, unsure where she's going, or if saying anything will even make a difference right now.

"Maybe what?" Evan asks not letting her stop in the middle of the sentence. It catches her off guard, for once feeling like he won't let her change the subject, and he pushes her for…something.

With a deep breath, she answers.

"Maybe it was worth it. Somewhat. Because without that time there, we wouldn't have met."

Evan lifts up a hand and gently runs a finger down Meg's face from her temple down to her chin before resting his palm against the side of her face. Instintively, she reaches up and rests her hand on his as she leans her head into his palm as he speaks.

"I am not worth that. You would have met plenty of people better than me, I can almost guarantee that, but that being said, in some odd selfish way, I am happy that I met you." Slowly he lifts another hand to rest on her waist, his eyes never leaving hers as he continues. "But now you have the chance to actually have a life, a real life away from the Entity, and I don't want to keep you from that."

"You aren't keeping me from anything," Meg says, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the statement. "I am here willingly. I could have left with my friends a long time ago, and I haven't. That should say something. Unless this is your way of kicking me out."

"No," Evan blurts out, gripping her waist before repeating himself, quieter this time. "No, I don't want you to leave. You are the single most best thing that has ever happened in my sorry life, but I am aware that you also don't deserve that title."

"Evan…"

"But you deserve a life outside of this estate, outside of this town. You deserve to do whatever it is you want to do. Go back to school, go get a job, meet new people. You mentioned before how you've wanted all of that, and if staying here keeps you from pursuing that, I am not worth losing your opportunity at a new life."

"You need to stop," Meg interrupts, pointing a finger at him. "I know what I want, and I want..." She swallows hard, an ironic vision to her so bluntly saying she knows what she wants, but does she really?

She thinks she does, but she has yet to admit it to anyone. The thought has been floating along the edge of her thoughts for days now, sometimes more prominent than others but before she can answer her own thought, Evan speaks up.

"As you've said before, I was the person who killed you and your friends over and over again for years-"

"I said that because I was mad. I-"

"But you were right. You have always been right when it comes to our past together, and I made myself try to prove that I have no intention of hurting you, but that does not mean that I deserve to continue to be in your life."

"So…" Meg pulls away, her scowl deepening on her forehead as she looks away from Evan and stares at the warm flames of the fire as she continues, "What are you saying?"

Evan clears his throat, but despite Meg pulling away from him, his grip on her waist tightens, making her stop.

"I am saying that I'm not sure I deserve to be in your life, but," he lets out a sad laugh, "I know you'll do what you want, and I don't quite have a say. Just know that if you decide to leave, I understand. It's dangerous being here, and if you want to get away, start a new life, I wouldn't blame you."

"Why not come with us? There's nothing keeping you here either."

"I can't leave. As much as I want to…I…"

"Why not?" Meg finds herself saying bluntly. "You can leave here just as much as any one of us can."

"It's not that easy," Evan replies, his voice cracking just a little with his slurred words.

"Sure it is. From what you've told me, this isn't a place that holds any pleasant memories for you. Why can't you start over too? Discover something you really want to do. We can do it together."

Meg peels her eyes away from the fire and looks up at Evan who is already looking at her, an odd expression on his face.

"We can help each other like we have been doing all along."

Instead of replying like Meg thought Evan would do, he looks away, saying nothing.

"Why must you be so stubborn?" Evan finally mutters so softly, Meg barely registers that he is talking to her.

"I could ask you the same," she replies leaning against Evan who immediately wraps his arm around her, pulling her close to his chest as the two stare at the fire, trying not to think about the uncomfortable silence that surrounds them, and the unspoken words neither of them dare to say.

Although Evan words didn't necessarily say no, Meg doesn't quite feel comforted by the implications of his words which is a weird juxtaposition to how she feels in that moment, comforted by being wrapped up in his arms. She wants to say something, but at the same time, for the first time in her life she feels speechless. Almost having too much to say, she decides to say nothing at all, at least not yet, not when her mind spins around her and she can hardly keep up with her racing thoughts.

So she stares at the fire warmed by the flames and Evan beside her, pulling her tight against him and as the minutes pass, his breathing begins to deepen and soon soft snores come from him beside her. Even with the tension in the air, she can't help but smile thinking about him sleeping and how amazing it still feels to know that he somehow has become comfortable enough around her to fall asleep with her. That is telling enough in it's own right, she thinks, and although he says she deserves better, she feels like she is right where she should be.

Right where she needs to be.

It still feels odd yet strangely right, making everything she has come to know since seem more concrete yet unexplainable. She has come to accept that they are just a series of opposites forming an impossible connection that neither could ever imagine in any other circumstance.

Tracing lines along his hand and along the scars where metal used to be along his arms, she wonders if she should wake him up, they can help each other stumble upstairs as the room spins around her faster than she can keep up. But then the thought of falling asleep right here seems just as welcoming, just as inviting.

But the conversation from earlier echoes in her mind, she almost wants to wake him up simply to apologize, to talk about it more. They didn't quite get to an understanding and Meg can't stand that they left everything so up in the air, and at the time it didn't seem worth it to talk about it, but as the alcohol slowly wares off and time passes, she hopes that it wasn't anything that could negatively effect their friendship…relationship…whatever they have.

And as Meg contemplates what he said, she takes in a deep breath before she hears a movement outside, a quiet shuffling past the window that immediately turns her blood cold. Holding her breath, she listens for anymore noises outside the window to her right, wondering what it could be.

It's late, and there are other nocturnal animals around in the woods, and as she hears nothing, she exhales slowly, thinking how the noise was probably nothing to be worried about.

Hopefully.

But as she sits there telling herself that she's fine, the fire that once was comfortable begins to feel like it is roasting her alive and makes her skin sticky with sweat.

Not quite wanting to detangle herself from Evan, she suddenly feels like she needs to get some water, or air, or…something.

Should she wake him up? Maybe.

No.

As she looks up at him, he has a small grin on his face and she doesn't want to disturb him just because she's getting a little warm and heard a noise outside, so she decides to slowly get up on her own to get some more water from the kitchen at least.

Stumbling slightly into the kitchen and not bothering to turn on a light, she gets a glass of water and leans against the cold tile. Shivers run up and down her spine as she stares out the dark window, slowly sipping water and blinking trying to focus on the world around her. With her eyes adjusting, she can begin to see the trees, the clear night sky with thousands of stars and the moon shining above them, and then she sees someone walking towards the woods.

Squinting, she recognizes it to be Feng, once again, leaving in the middle of the night.

Instead of being curious like she has been, with the bravery of whiskey in her system, Meg's cheeks begin to burn with anger at not knowing where Feng is going.

She could ignore it, let her go as she goes back to Evan who sleeps so peacefully in the other room…but with each passing second, the urge to follow Feng overshadows that of sleeping, and with her newfound courage, she figures that she'll be fine. She'll sneak off and follow Feng, see where she's going, then come back.

There's no need to wake Evan up for this, right? He'd only tell her she's overthinking it or blame her avid curiosity on the drinks they had before. Plus, she shouldn't be too long, and hopefully he won't wake up and wonder where she is. She'll be following Feng and wherever she goes, they should be safe.

There was never a reason for her not to trust Feng, and she doesn't want to start mistrusting her so much now. All she wants is the truth.

So without another thought, she sets down the water on the counter and decides to go after Feng once and for all.

Stuffing her feet into her shoes by the door, she pulls off her old hoodie from the coat rank near the door and tears off into the night without a second thought. The cold wind hits her face, bringing tears to her eyes that she concentrates on blinking away as she digs her heels into the ground, jogging to the tree line.

The sudden chill of the wind and cold water in her system sober her up just enough to jog slowly to the trees, her mind still a bit foggy. But she waited so long that Feng has become just a movement, a shadow in the distance between the trees and she knows that if she slows down, she will lose her.

Although moving time is something that is still a foreign concept to Meg after what felt like an eternity with the Entity, the same sinking feeling of time slowing down settles over her like a heavy blanket, suffocating her slowly. Once she enters the forest, it feels like going into a bubble, and the sound of wind moving through the trees almost instantly quiets down to the point of the only sound echoing in her ears is her own breathing.

In and out slowly, concentrating.

She's thankful that the trees aren't too thick here, at least not yet, so she can still see Feng in the distance as she begins to get closer, though making sure to hang back, not wanting Feng to feel her presence following her.

Just as Meg has felt someone watching her in the trees before, she knows full well that all of her friends, all the survivors, have developed a sixth sense when it comes to being followed and being watched.

It came with the nature of the trials; always being on guard, always looking around them, listening to things that aren't even there, and Meg is almost certain that Feng hasn't lost that in the little time they've been out.

So Meg hangs back just enough to where she can still see Feng but not close enough to blow her cover.

Hopefully.

As the two venture deeper into the woods, with every footstep, the noise seems to quiet around Meg even more than she thought possible. Soon, she just wants to hear something, anything other than the soft squishy sound of wet leaves and mud beneath her shoes, and her own shaky breathing. It is almost painful how much she would want to hear wind, or an animal, or…anything. She is almost tempted to call out to Feng just to have company, but she refrains knowing that if her cover his blown, Feng might not admit to where she's going, and that's why Meg is out here in the first place.

So instead of concentrating on the noises around her, she concentrates on following her friend, clearing her mind from any other thoughts until a silhouette of a small cabin begins to take shape in the dark night.

Is this one of those cabins Evan talked about?

As Meg draws closer, Feng quickly takes a look around her, not seeing Meg from where she crouches behind a few trees away from her, and goes into the unlit cabin.

How did she even find her way here?

The first thing Meg notices is just how dark it is, and the unlit nature of the cabin itself does nothing to calm her nerves of being out in the darkness.

The second thing she notices is how Feng knew exactly where to go, and in her mind, Meg believes this has to be where she has been sneaking off to, especially when she looked around almost in an ritualistic sense to where she didn't think anyone would be there, but she had to take a quick look around to calm her nerves.

It was often something she would do in the trials herself.

So as Feng goes into the small cabin, Meg finally stands up, brushing small leaves and dirt from her knees as she gathers the courage to follow Feng inside. But the closer she gets to the cabin, the more Meg's skin crawls and goes from small tingling sensations to absolute uncertainty, every nerve, every cell screaming at her to turn around.

But this is why she followed Feng all the way out here, isn't it? Meg just wants some answers.

But this isn't right.

She shouldn't be here.

Despite the growing pit in her stomach, she presses on, doing her best to quiet those feelings as she tells herself that it's just her experience in the realm that is making her mind wander and jump to the worst case scenario, right?

Right?

If Feng is here, it shouldn't be too bad, she hopes, and if anything, maybe it's something that they could all be a part of. What could that be? She has no idea, but it could be anything in the world that she doesn't know about.

Even Meg knows that is wishful thinking, but the way Feng has been sneaking around doesn't sit well with her and maybe after just a peek in, she can go back.

As she approaches the entrance, a chill overwhelms her, making her shiver from head to toe, and briefly she thinks about how warm and safe she felt wrapped in Evan's arms in front of the fire, and how she would give anything to be back there now.

But no, she is here now and she just wants to know where Feng has been going. It can't be that bad, and once she knows she can run back and curl into bed with Evan, ignore the seed of doubt that their conversation planted in the back of her mind, she can sleep knowing that they can always continue their conversation tomorrow.

So Meg continues up to the cabin, and getting closer, she can really see more details she couldn't see before.

The front door is dark, blocking out even the natural moonlight that illuminates the ground around Meg, and she can't control the shivers that now won't seem to go away as the hair on the back of her neck stands up straight.

It's the same feeling she used to feel in the trials with silent killers, and it is the same feeling she got in the woods once when she went on a run on her own the first day at the estate. Not knowing what it was then, but with her mind filling in the blanks with Jed Olsen being the only reasonable answer, her heart races thinking that it isn't just her and Feng out here. What if Jed is still out here? What if someone else is out here?

So without further hesitation, she pushes open the door to the cabin and and swings around, shutting it behind her as her hand scrambles across the wood looking for a lock. When she finally feels the ice cold metal of a deadbolt under her fingertips, she clicks it shut and listens to the noises around her.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Her nerves are still raging in her chest, but the feeling of being watched is less, especially knowing she's in the same house as Feng. They'll be fine.

But only then does it occur to her that it is still dark in the small cabin, and there is no sign that Feng was even there. No lights have been turned on, and the only sounds she hears now are the creaks of an old cabin settling around her.

Swallowing the uncertainty that snakes its way into her chest, Meg calls out.

"Feng?"

There is no response, and normally that would be a good thing, she is alone, but right now that is the last thing she wants to think.

"Feng?" She calls out again a bit louder this time. Again, there is no response, and even though Meg's whole being wants to leave, wants to almost yell at her for being so brash and rushing into another situation, she doesn't know if this is dangerous…yet.

But the fact that Feng hasn't responded doesn't sit well with Meg, and with a backwards glance at the door, she considers leaving, getting Evan, and coming back with more backup, a plan. Though the more time she wastes, the more in danger Feng could be if something or someone was in here. Meg doesn't quite believe that something happened, and she hasn't heard any sounds of struggle either, something that she knows she should have heard either outside or in here if Jed Olsen or the Doctor were around.

Taking a deep breath and stepping more inside, Meg balls her hands into fists so tight, her fingernails dig into her skin and with every slow step she takes, the harder her nails dig in until she can feel a small pop as they break the rough skin of her palm.

She lets out a hiss, not realizing just how hard she was clenching her fists as she looks around, wiping a small droplet of blood on her pants. Standing in what looks like a living room, she sees a couch, a table, and a few chairs, all covered up by dusty white sheets. To her right there is a doorway to what looks like could be a small kitchen, and there is a hallway in front of her.

Frozen on the spot, she should just leave, she knows this. Leave and come back, and as she tells herself to just leave, she takes a step farther inside, squinting her eyes to try and make out any sort of shapes in the darkness.

The only light comes from outside, as the faint light from the full moon struggles to penetrate the unnatural darkness of the cabin. It reminds Meg of how the trials used to look when someone burned a little bouquet as an offering. Even if the moon was high in the sky, she could hardly see her own hand in front of her face, and as she blinks several times in the small cabin, her eyes feel just the same, never adjusting to quite how dark it is in there.

The very thought that maybe this has something to do with the Entity is enough to make her skin crawl and heart race, but she presses on, telling herself this is just an old cabin. It has to be.

Her mind goes back to the notebook her and Evan found earlier, and she wonders if this is one of those cabins his workers built. With the furniture, Meg doubts it, but maybe someone else moved in here at some point after what happened at the mines.

So much could happen in a hundred years.

Meg's first instinct is to explore, to look around, so with another deep breath she continues to walk inside, not hesitating as much as she was when she first entered.

The conversation with Evan earlier about the cabins gives her a little bit of hope that nothing was wrong, and maybe Feng just stumbled upon this cabin on her own and wants to make it her space.

Should that stop Meg from looking around?

Probably.

But will it stop her?

No.

So she goes into the hallway, listening for any signs of life, any footsteps, any telltale creaks from the wooden floors, but instead she is greeted with silence.

As her eyes begin to adjust, only slightly, she sees the outline of three rooms along the hallway, and she begins to get flashbacks of the old barn house in Chimacum…

The hallway with three rooms, the blood on the floor, the Clown rutting on top of her, the pain, the humiliation…

She physically can't think about it as she grips her chest, doubling over at the memory of it all.

Blinking back tears, she lifts her head and really takes in the hallway.

Why does it look almost identical to the barn house? That can't be possible.

Taking in a deep breath and puffing out her chest, a mocking display of the panic she feels inside, she walks past the two doors closest to her as she walks to the farthest one away. Creeping feelings of insecurity send shivers down her legs, thinking she is overreacting. But she didn't check the third room back in Chimacum, and that's where she wants to start here.

She knows that it can't be the same hallway, the same room, but the similarities are uncanny, and it is like an invisible hook has latched itself onto her and pulls her to the door, wanting to check in there first.

She's here for Feng, she keeps telling herself, and once she finds Feng, the feelings that are exploding through her body will subside, they always do.

But as she reaches the room and slowly turns the handle, every rational, sober part of her mind screams at her that she shouldn't be there, but she pushes on, opening the door and sees…

Nothing.

It is just an empty room with a single closet to her right, and with a small laugh she exhales all of the breath she was holding. Of course it would be nothing, and she felt like she could almost cry out of relief of seeing nothing in the room.

One down, two to go-

Until she hears a dull thud come from the dark closet.

There is no door on it, at least not anymore, despite the shining door hinges she sees on the wall. Blinking in a poor attempt to focus her eyes more, she takes a step in.

"Hello?" She croaks out, her throat closing up around her words.

She hears nothing else as she closes the distance between herself and the closet that resembles a black hole more than anything.

Due to the darkness in the room, she can't see the walls in the closet, but that also means she can't see anything else in there too, and a small thought crosses her mind.

A fleeting memory from when Meg was four years old.

One particularly dark night, she clamored out of bed and padded barefoot across the hall to her mother's room, clutching the arm of the very tattered and torn teddy bear she never let go of.

"Mommy," she whispered while checking over her shoulder, shivering in her oversized shirt her mom had given her. When there was no response from her mom, she whispered again, louder, "Mommy."

After a minute of quiet shuffling, her mother appeared in the doorway rubbing her eyes and half asleep. "What's the matter, pumpkin?"

"I'm scared," Meg whimpered, teeth beginning to chatter as she looked over her shoulder again before looking up at her mom.

"Of what?"

"The monster."

"What monster?"

Meg squeezed the paw of her teddy bear so tight she thought she left dents in his poor stuffing. "The monster…I think he's in my closet. He's been there for ages and he's trying to get me."

Meg's mom bent down and wiped a tear that fell from Meg's eye, one that she didn't know she even shed as her mom spoke, "Are you having those nightmares again?"

"No!" Meg protests, stomping her tiny foot on the ground. "He's really there! The monster, mom-"

"It's alright, Meg. I'm here," she said, scooping Meg up into her arms, carrying her back to her bed, wrapping her up in her blankets and quietly stroking her hair listening to Meg babble about the terrifying monster that stalked through her nightmares.

She let Meg babble for a few minutes before even that had slowed down and Meg's eyes grew heavy with sleep, and only then did her mom get up and pull back the curtains at her window.

"See, pumpkin?" She said, gesturing out at the distant pink sky illuminating the rooftops around them. "Monsters can't come out in the sunshine."

"Why?" Meg asked, her voice full of hope.

"Because they're scared of the light," she smiled. "If we leave the curtains open, the monster won't be able to come out again."

Meg blinked once, twice, then smiled up at her mom who came over and curled into bed with her, wrapping her into her arms within her blanket burrito. She was never wrong, after all. Why would her mom have a reason to lie?

Her mom gave her a kiss on her forehead and brushed back her bangs that fell in her face.

"I'll always be here to protect you from the monsters, you know that, right?"

Meg closed her eyes, a smile on her face as she nodded to her mom as the beautiful rays of sunlight began to fill her room, banishing the darkness away.

If Meg had only known back then what true monsters were, and what true darkness was, she knows she shouldn't have been as scared, as needy.

Now, Meg knows that monsters are very much real, and all she wants right now as she approaches the dark closet is some light, any light…

But that would be too easy for her as she stumbles her way to the closet, holding her breath while she listens for any more sounds.

With her hands out in front of her, she shuffles into the closet, searching for anything. The closet is small, but when her hand brushes over a divot in the door, she pauses.

Could this be one of the secret doors from Archie's workers?

She tries pushing on the dark wood, and when that doesn't work, with a huff she pulls and suddenly a small bit of light seeps through the wall in the shape of a doorway. She continues pulling until the door opens enough to let light into the normal looking closet, and she can fit through to the other side.

"Feng?" She calls out without thinking.

Feng was almost guaranteed to be nowhere else in the house, and this small room illuminated by a few lanterns has been the only sign of life she has found.

But as she pushes on into the room, what greets her is nothing like she could have expected.

The few small lanterns littered across the floor and on the ceiling shine light onto walls covered in pictures.

Pictures of them.

Of the survivors.

Her and Nea practicing fighting in the front yard.

Dwight and David walking through the trees.

Kate and Ace sitting outside of the estate talking.

Evan and Claudette gardening.

What are all of these pictures doing here?

There are so many that her brain can hardly process every single moment that she begins to see and then she reaches a spot on the wall of the people she would never expect.

There are just a few pictures of Jed Olsen and Herman together, and there is one of Jeffrey, the Clown, as well stuck crudely to the wall.

If Meg didn't know any better, they could have looked like a normal group of friends just hanging out. They looked happy, carefree. Like best friends out and about…and she can't even breathe as she thinks of where they've been, knowing that now they've all been in contact.

But then one picture catches her eye and makes her vision grow red as she sees Herman and Feng sitting across from each other talking.

Nothing else, just talking, and the picture looks like it was taken without them knowing but the small smile Feng has on her face and the relaxed look Herman has tells Meg everything she needs to know, at least in that moment.

Needing to turn away from the pictures Meg looks elsewhere, anywhere but the invasive pictures that she'll come back to, and she begins to see notes, all handwritten, and some looking like they're from the past, a lot longer than just the few weeks they've been out of the Entity's realm.

She picks the first one she sees and begins to read.

"I built this cabin from the ground up with my own two hands, and yet I feel it isn't mine. I wake up at night and hear voices, hear screams and moans…I don't know what to do…"

"Last night I swore I heard a woman crying outside but when I went out, there was no one but me around. When I closed the door, there was a faint hum of some sort of machine in the distance but it wasn't like anything I ever heard before. These woods freak me out."

"Archie took me into his office today and questioned me for what felt like hours all over a missing book. I didn't take it, like I'd have any time to read anyway when it comes to working almost sixteen hours a day in the mines. I don't know how much more I can take of this, and then as soon as I left his office, it had only been twelve minutes, but I swear I was in there for almost a full work day. But I don't even remember half the things he asked. This work might be getting to me."

"I finally met my boss' son, Evan, and he doesn't seem that bad. Seems a bit lost, a bit overshadowed by his father, but I don't like that, and neither do the other boys. That only means he's going to assert his dominance one way or another, and we ain't gonna be tossed around like some idiots."

"…Archie and Evan MacMillan killed Donny today. William said he saw Archie drag him into the woods, then take Evan with him. Called it a hunting trip. We can't leave for vacation, and yet they can. William followed them and found ol' Donny tied to a tree…his head split in two…I don't want to work here anymore."

"The walk to this cabin seems to take longer and longer everyday despite me walking the same path. Maybe I'm getting tired, maybe I'm getting old. But when I built this cabin, it was only a fifteen minute walk from work. Today it took over an hour…what is wrong with me?"

"I almost lost this cabin completely today. Not that it would be a tragedy, but I have to be back in the mines in two hours. That doesn't give me enough time to go home and see Lisa…see the kids. I just need some sleep…but what happens if I can't even find this cabin next time?"

"I haven't been back to this cabin in three days. It almost feels like these woods are…changing. That is impossible, I know, and that's why I began leaving a trail from this cabin to the mines. I know it could lead them to this cabin if they were to catch on, but I have to know…why are these woods getting bigger?"

"The path I laid out yesterday was for nothing…I spent hours putting down rocks from the cabin to the mines then back to the cabin…and the next day halfway to the estate, the rocks vanished…or maybe that was the end of the trail yesterday. But I swear I made a trail to the mines…I know I did."

"Three more men have disappeared this week. It's becoming a common occurrence, and now Archie has hired goons to keep an eye out on everyone during their shifts. We can't even take a leak without the permission of these guys…what has this place become?"

"I have a bad feeling about being here. Evan…he was our one saving grace. He said he'd help us…and lately he's been just as cold, as distant as his father. He even raised a hand to Grisham the other day for asking about taking a lunch after ten hours of work…please let this not be permanent. Not even for my sakes, but for Lisa's sakes, and the boys. I don't want her to raise our boys alone..."

"That's it. I'm quitting. I'll work tomorrow because the MacMillan's promised us something worth our while to make up for all the extra hours, the exhaustion, the hospital visits…but tomorrow is it. Lisa, baby, if you find this someday, I hope that I was able to tell you just how sorry I am. I took this job for the money to help our family, help our boys, and yet...it doesn't matter now. I've saved enough, hidden away so we can leave. I'll work tomorrow but I have boat tickets to help us leave, help us start a new life, get as far away from the MacMillan Estate as we can. The only weird thing is that Evan MacMillan wants to have the meeting down in the mines…."

There are still more papers with different handwriting, but she can't read more.

She can't, as she doubles over, feeling like she's about to throw up everything in her, the alcohol, the sadness, the pain, and realization of these people that died here…

Yes she heard it from Matt the security guard, and a little bit from Evan himself, but to see the other side of it…the lives of these men who were torn apart by him and his family…

She needs to go back and talk to Evan.

This was a mistake.

She just needs Evan.

Meg's stomach flips and as though nothing could get any worse, a voice behind her freezes her to her core.

"Well isn't this a surprise."

That voice…

No!

"You really shouldn't be in here, doll."

Although Meg has only heard it once before, it seems like it is burned into her memory more than anything, and she turns around to see Jed Olsen standing behind her, a smarmy smile on his pale face. She doesn't have time to respond before someone hits her from behind making her vision go black before she even hits the floor.