Chapter Text
“This mission is of utmost importance. E-001 has to be transferred to our lab in South America. The exact coordinates will be sent to you before you leave.”
Mia bites her lip - a habit that she’s never learned to break. “Yes, sir,” she says. “But I can’t just get up and leave. My son…Ethan…can’t watch himself. I would ask someone to watch him, but I have no one.” God, she sounds pathetic. Mia cringes and awaits the inevitable tongue lashing she’s about to receive.
The connections discouraged their workers from having families, claiming relationships outside the company only ever cause messes. Except, she had Ethan years before she started working for them - five years to be exact.
Her eyes fall on the calendar, hanging on the wall in the kitchen. Two months and he’ll be nine. Oh, where does time go?
“Mrs. Winters, you know the rules,” the voice sighs heavily into the receiver. “But this mission has to be done by you. E-001 won’t accept anyone else as its handler. Even Mr. Droney is having ‘technical’ difficulties caring for it. We’ll make arrangements for an extra person.” And with that, the line goes dead.
Mia slams the phone back into its cradle.
“Mom?”
Mia snaps her head towards the hallway. Ethan stands there, wringing his hands. His big brown eyes stare up at her, always so anxious to an alarming degree.
“I’m okay, Ethan,” she assures him. “How would you like to ride on a really big boat?” Mia forces a bright smile. Her son, upon seeing there’s no danger lurking about, creeps closer.
“A really big boat? Like the kind on TV?” Ethan can hardly keep the excitement out of his voice.
“Even bigger than that,” Mia explains, walking towards her bedroom to pack. She spreads out her arms to help Ethan visual better.
“When are we going?” Ethan asks, following his mom into her room like a lost puppy. He bounces around like one too, hopping on the balls of his feet.
Mia throws an old suitcase on her bed. She digs through her closet. “Uh…I’ll explain more later.” When her son continues to stand in the doorway, blinking slowly, she sighs, “it’s…kind of a work thing. Go pack a bag.” Ethan doesn’t move. “
Now
, please. I’ll be in to help when I’m done.”
He flinches as if struck, but Mia who has already gone back to digging in her closet doesn’t notice. There’s a timer ticking down, and if she doesn’t beat it, her employment and her and her son’s financial security could be at risk.
This worry, among others, buzzing inside Mia’s head.
Ethan races for his room. A packing list already forming in his mind.
-x-x-x-
So, as it turns out, maybe letting an eight - almost nine-year-old - pack a suitcase isn’t the smartest idea.
Ethan had apparently decided that toys and comic books were more important than clothes and hygienic products. Among the random assortment of toys lay one, extremely worn, sweater, two pairs of socks, and one pair of underwear.
“Ethan,” Mia starts, “where are all your clothes? You do know that you can pack some of these toys and comic books in a carry-on bag, right?”
“Sorry, mom. I didn’t think that far ahead.” He keeps his head bowed, as if afraid to meet her eyes.
“Don’t be sorry. Let’s finish packing, the ship starts boarding in two hours and we still have to stop at my work.”
-x-x-x-
It’s pitch black out by the time the taxi arrives at their destination. Ethan yawns, following his mom inside.
A security guard - Frank - greets them at the door. All smiles and sunny dispositions - just like most of the connection’s drones. He jokes around with Ethan - or, at least, tries to. Ethan remains silent, watching Frank like he expects the security guard to lunge at him.
“Alright, now, take care!”He dismisses them with a wave, returning to the front door.
“Whoa,” Ethan says. Which is a fair reaction, especially from the perspective of a child. Mia doesn’t consider her place of work particularly noteworthy beyond the building’s massive size and high arched ceilings. But that might just be because she’s forced to be here five days a week (seven, if E-001 was acting up).
Mia leads Ethan through endless hallways and down a winding staircase. All the while, Ethan looks upon the facility, mesmerized at the bulky, out of date technology they pass by. Truly, if she didn’t know better, Mia would think Ethan was someone else’s child entirely.
“Alright,” Mia murmurs to herself, coming to the lab’s elevator. “Ethan, stay by my side.” Her tone left little room to argue. Not that Ethan had any intention of disobeying anyways. He stood right up against her side, hands gripping her shirt tightly.
The ride down is uneventful, and once they disembark, Mia takes Ethan by the hand and into a nearby lab.
-x-x-x-
The lab is…
Ethan searches for an adequate word to describe how very clean and unlived in his mom’s work space looks.
...white?
That sounds about right. Everything from walls to the ceiling to the machinery gave off a whitish glow. He thinks briefly of asking his mom for permission to wander the halls while she gathers what she needs. But then remembers how adamant she had been that he stays close to her.
He gives a quiet huff, silently pouting behind his mom.
Another man appears in the doorway. Ethan tries to recall his name. His mom works closely with him. It’s on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach. Daniels? Donehoo? Dunham?
“Droney!” His mother greets cordially, coming to meet the man in the middle.
“Winters,” the man greets politely, taking notice of the little boy hiding behind his partner. He gets closer and kneels down.
“Hello, Ethan. I’m Alan Droney, but you can call me Alan, Mr. Droney, or that weird guy who works with your mom.” Mia and Alan share a polite laugh.
Ethan keeps his head down, clutching his mothers shirt.
“Quiet little guy, huh?” Alan says, getting up.
“Long story. How is the package doing?” Mia asks, heading for the main laboratory’s door.
“It’s fine. It keeps asking about you. Dr. Miranda just about slapped it earlier.”
“Why?”
Alan shrugged. “I don’t know. That woman’s a mystery to us all. All I know is that I left them alone together for a minute while I attended to other matters, and when I returned Dr. Miranda had her hand raised.”
“Alan, I’ve told you never to leave that woman alone with E-001. Her temper can be dangerous, especially if she causes it to go into ‘attack’ mode.”
They reach the entrance. Mia quickly enters the passcode and scans her employee identification card. Alan follows suit.
“What about the kid? Do you think it’s wise to bring him around it?” Alan asks, eyeing Ethan intently.
“Introducing it to Ethan might actually be beneficial to its development. And it will help our cover if E-001 has someone to distract it.”
Ethan, for his part, tunes out the grown ups. He pointedly refuses to look at Mr.Drovey. He can’t get over how cool his mom’s workplace is, and she has to scan her card like an FBI or S.T.A.R.S. agent.
Ethan frowns. He hasn’t thought about S.T.A.R.S. since-
“Ethan, come meet Eveline,” his mom calls, already in the lab.
Shaking off his wandering thoughts, Ethan hurriedly joins his mom in the lab.
A little girl - maybe a year or so older than him - sits on a ratty-looking couch, legs swinging back and forth. She has dark brown hair and even darker eyes. Her eyes remind Ethan of two pieces of charcoal or the bottom of that very large hole he dug last summer.
“Who are you?”
Ethan’s taken back by the question. It’s not an odd question by any means, but the way she says it rubs him the wrong way.
“Ethan Winters,” he says.
“Ethan Winters…” She mutters, testing the name out. “Well, Ethan Winters, why are you here?”
“My mom has to go on a trip-” His mom pinches his arm. A sudden - but not unheard of - practice she uses when wanting Ethan to shut up.
“Eveline, remember when I told you that I have a family outside of here?” When Eveline nods, his mom continues. “Well, this is my son. Your…uh…little brother.” Ethan glares at his mom.
A sister? No, thank you.
But when he opens his mouth to speak, he’s interrupted by Eveline’s excited squeak. “A little brother? Does he love me too?” She stares a little too intensely at him for a little too long for his comfort.
Ethan’s mom gives Eveline a saccharine-sweet smile, fake and clearly overly indulgent to everyone besides Eveline. “He loves you very much.” She turns to him. “Don’t you, Ethan?”
No
.
He nods along, ignoring the dread curling in the pit of his stomach. “Of course.”