Chapter Text
The first time Ethan Winters died, it had been quiet.
He had slipped sharply out of consciousness with a boot to the head, and woken slowly back up. In that time, the mold invaded his body, healing him but at the same time transforming him into something no longer human. He and Mia were dragged down a dirt path, through a wrought iron gate, and into the house. Zoe stapled his hand back to his arm. The rest was hidden from him.
For none of these events nor many of those proceeding afterwards was he fully aware of what was happening to him or around him. The mold, clever as it is, hid itself deep inside his cells, a simulacrum that fooled both Ethan and the hundreds of tests and examinations and procedures forced onto him in the months following Dulvey. For a time, Mia was probably the only one that knew and was not similarly afflicted.
None of the events occurring outside of his own body were processed until later either. The whole ordeal had been a night-long adrenaline rush. A sort of veil had been drawn protecting him from a breakdown that would have almost certainly resulted in his death had it not been delayed until weeks later, coming out in broken sobs against Mia’s chest.
The second time Ethan Winters died, it hurt like hell.
For a moment he hadn’t noticed when the gnarled root of mold pierced his chest, but by the time that root had morphed into Miranda’s hand and his own heart was pulled out of its nest in his ribcage the pain had registered itself and he was screaming, well, like he had just had his own heart pulled out of his chest. In his last moments, he witnessed his own blood seep down Miranda’s arm and across her face. Her promise went unheard as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Blood, red, everywhere. Heartrate nothing, nada, zilch. Someone took pictures of him. Why? What kind of sacrament is that?
Anyways, he woke back up again. Of course he did.
A dark, obscure landscape stretched on all sides around him. It was cold, no, freezing. Ethan stumbled to the ground, overcome by pain and exhaustion.
A small figure in the distance, familiar, familial. She was laughing again.
“You’re so dumb.”
“Eveline? How are…” He stumbled over his words, gasping for air midsentence. “... you here?” Ethan was almost positive he had killed her, but here she was, in all her pale glory. At this point, very few things surprised him.
“You’re dead.”
What?
“Dead?” Eveline’s giggles, now unthreatening, danced around his ears. “I mean, Miranda, she… No… I still have to save Rose.” What was she talking about? Ethan dug his fingers into the frozen earth, pulling himself forwards…
“Wrong! It wasn’t Miranda. You were always dead.”
“What are you saying? I can still…” Ethan gasped, his body giving way underneath him. The pain was dull, at this point, but moving each limb took a lifetime of effort.
“See? Miranda didn’t kill you.”
“You mean you didn’t think it was weird? No matter how much you got hurt? Remember? Three years ago, Baker house? You were murdered by Jack.”
He could barely breathe, now.
“You died there, three years ago.”
Black spots, now familiar, crowded his vision.
“That's… No, that’s impossible.”
He was lying.
Eveline giggled again. “You shouldn’t even be able to walk around.”
“Quit… messing with my head.”
To himself, and who else?
“You. Shouldn’t. Be. Walking.”
“Screw you!”
It was the best defense he had at this point.
“What… am I?” he panted.
“I… I… I did all that…”
It made perfect sense. But it didn’t matter right now.
“Rose… Mia…”
Ethan brought himself to his feet, far from steady but more than determined. His right hand was blackened and misshapen now.
“Now do you get it?” Eveline crowed. “Your whole body is nothing but mold. You can’t ever see your family again.”
It had all become white noise to Ethan at that point. He suspected that in some sense, he had always known. About his body, the mold. Not the second thing.
“No. I’m going to save my daughter.”
“You’re already dead. Dead!” Eveline’s words had become almost pleading, her laughs an empty accompaniment. Did she want him to stay here, with her, in this frozen wasteland? It was getting brighter.
“I’m going to save Rose.”
Ethan could feel himself leaving, going away, returning to his body where only pain awaited him. Eveline’s face, pale, became suddenly visible to him but not in the intrusive way it had before, when he was being haunted. Her expression was unreadable, but carried a degree of aching, almost a grimace. He was almost gone.
She grabbed his useless wrist unkindly.
“I’m coming with you”
“What?”
By the time Ethan could process what she was saying, maybe shrug her off, back into that cold expanse, they were both leaving, soon to reenter the world of the living.
-
Ethan Winters was not generally the type of person to believe in things like miracles, but when sunlight flooded the space underneath his eyelids and he cracked them open to reveal real white clouds suspended in a real white sky, he was inclined to change his ways.
This brief moment of reverence for the world expired quickly when a familiar, ugly silhouette became visible in his peripheral vision.
“Winters! You’re awake!” A grating voice boomed from his left. “We thought we were beginning to lose you, until you started mumbling about that daughter of yours.”
We? Who is we? Regardless, didn’t he kill this guy?
“I killed you.” Ethan croaked.
“You came close. Now get up.”
Heisenberg stuck a gloved hand in his face. Ethan hesitated, but came to terms with a temporary loss of dignity in favor of his still aching spine. His good hand clasped Heisenberg’s, and in a half familiar motion Ethan Winters was pulled to his feet.
Ethan surveyed his surroundings, recognizing the Duke’s carriage and another figure, not facing him but still unmistakable.
“Eveline.”
The girl turned towards him.
“Ethan.”
He at this point realized that he had been holding Heisenberg’s hand for quite a bit longer than necessary and was also uncomfortably close, almost leaning against the other man. He made to back away, but Heisenberg pulled him forwards and towards the carriage.
Ethan protested “I can walk quite well by myself, thank you very much-”
“-No you can’t.”
It was true. Ethan’s body was weaker than it had ever been. He begrudgingly let Heisenberg lead him to the back of the carriage, and he collapsed against one of its wooden walls.
“Mr. Winters! It’s good to see you in one piece.”
Here was at least one friendly face. “Duke.”
“I’ll be truthful, you look a little worse for wear.”
“I feel like shit.”
The Duke chuckled, a warm laugh that had accompanied him for the length of his journey through the village. Ethan began to relax, letting out a long-held breath.
Heisenberg and Eveline approached the back of the carriage, keeping a distance from one another but still, surprisingly, not actively hostile. What had they been talking about?
Heisenberg stepped into the carriage, and slumped down across from Ethan. He was clearly still putting on a show, but a weariness now shone through his mask. It seemed like Ethan had at least done a number on him.
A moment later, Eveline crawled in, and closed the doors behind her. She chose to lean against a wall, avoiding eye contact with Ethan.
“Take us to the ceremony site?” Heiseinberg growled at the Duke, who nodded. The carriage began to rumble steadily.
Ethan broke the silence. “What’s going on?”
“We’re going to kill Miranda.” Eveline responded succinctly, still refusing to turn towards Ethan.
“Who is we? Why aren’t you guys killing each other? And Heisenberg, I told you, you cannot use my daughter as a weapon-”
“-Forget about Rose.” Heisenberg interrupted loudly. “You were right, she’s just an infant. Especially compared to this fine specimen you seem to have brought back from the dead, however unwillingly.”
Eveline turned her nose up in response.
Ethan glared at Heisenberg. “I should have taken that stupid tank.”
“You probably would have killed me. But then where would you be? All you’d have left is that asshole Redfield.” Heisenberg may have had a point, but Ethan still would have preferred to see him again as a fine red paste rather than the living man that now sat across from him.
“Look, Ethan, the reality is that none of us have any chance of taking down Miranda on our lonesome. You tried, and look how that went for you.”
“So now what, we create some kind of bioweapon dream team?” Ethan mocked. Frankly, he was still coming to terms with his own apparent nonhumanity, so the term seemed alien. Chris had been wrong. He wasn’t a civilian. He had stopped being a civilian three years ago in Dulvey, Louisiana. Did Chris know? Would he have had Ethan killed if he did?
“Exactly. You want your daughter back, I want to kill Miranda, Eveline wants to wreak havoc, it’ll work out for all of us if we just work together.”
“You know, I never took you as a ‘teamwork’ sort of guy.”
“Call it a change of heart.” Heisenberg stuck out a gloved hand.
Ethan weighed his options.
There wasn’t much to weigh. Forget about Chris. There was Mia, but who knew where she was now? Heisenberg, if anyone. She’d understand.
Ethan took Heisenberg’s hand, for the third time that day, and shook.
Heisenberg grinned, a full face of sharp teeth. “Welcome to the team, Winters.”