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"That was a mistake."
He’d known it wouldn’t have been worth it, but he’d been too curious to pass up the opportunity. The other treasures Duke had marked on his map had been entirely worth it; Luiza’s necklace had got him a couple things that had fetched him a pretty penny, and the waterwheel weapon was a blessing.
Beneviento’s treasure—Berengario's Chalice, it was called— would sell for a good price. Maybe he could finally buy that extra space for his backpack, but Ethan Winters was not happy that he’d had to fight to get it. He was down too much handgun ammo, and he was really pushing his shells for the shotgun and he was so sore. His entire body ached, and he still had puncture wounds in his side that had yet to fully heal. It would be nice to have money before going to deal with Moreau, though.
He hadn’t dealt with the third Lord just yet; he hadn’t wanted to miss anything between killing Donna and Moreau. He knew there were probably things that would no longer be available to him once Moreau was dealt with; that’s just how this nonsense tended to go.
So, Ethan made his sorry, sore ass back across the suspension bridge. Through the brush with the graves and hanging bodies and out to the site of the Altar. Duke gave him a pleasant smile when he handed him the chalice. As well as the giant crystal hammer and all the crystal skulls he’d collected along the way. “I’m glad the things I marked down could be of service to you, Ethan,” he told him, in that drawl that he had. Ethan had trouble placing his accent. Posh, not too British but not American.
“Dunno if it was worth it,” he muttered in reply, which got him a laugh from Duke. The mysterious merchant was loud, his presence still appreciated. He was elusive, but he'd given Ethan the most information out of anyone here.
"There is nothing worth more than securing goods and money, my friend," a devilish grin accompanied by a puff of smoke from his cigar, "onto Lord Moreau now, Ethan?"
"I want to be sure I didn't miss anything else." He shook his head.
"Or anyone else, I presume?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Who else would be here? I haven't seen any hide nor hair of anyone," he crossed his arms. "If Chris and his team are around here, they've done a good job of not running into me. I don't see why they'd be in the village anyway." He sneered. He silently bought the rest of Duke's shotgun shells and some sniper ammo.
Duke gave him an amused shrug, holding his hands out at either side of his head as Ethan reloaded his guns. "Who knows what happens in this little village of ours." He smiled, waving one hand absentmindedly.
Ethan rolled his eyes; they were done here. He inclined his head in thanks, and he parted from Duke, the merchant seeing him off with a small laugh.
He made his way down the path to the gates to Castle Dimitrescu; he needed to check some of the remaining wells for their items, and he finally had a lockpick for that small home with the locked cabinet in the kitchen. With the red doors connecting the Maiden of War and East Old Town still locked, he had to weave through the village. There weren’t any more of those big ass lycans. And though he could see some of those flying monsters from Castle Dimitrescu over by the plot, he wasn’t heading over there. He still kept his grip on his pistol as he walked around, though, better to be safe than sorry. Ethan was also sure he would go mad if he wasn't holding something.
He made his way up and around to the gate he couldn’t yet pass through—the six-winged unborn logo on the gates seemed to mock him— then turned towards the church. There was a well there he had yet to pull the bucket up for; the one just behind the church. Come to think of it actually, he might have to go through the Fallow Plot to get to that other well. Shame. He'd been hoping to avoid being around that area ever since escaping Luiza's burning home. He was too curious about what could be in the well, though.
He'd figure it out.
Not to mention, there was a typewriter in the church, he recalled. It would be a small, little reprise from the hell of the village, and it made Ethan smile. He could collect the item from the well outside, and then take a small rest in the church before heading off to the Fallow Plot. That seemed like a solid plan of action, and Ethan found himself smiling.
As he passed by the church, though, something caught his attention. From inside, he thought he heard something, a cough; a grumble. He couldn’t be sure, though. There was so much white noise in the village; the wind, rustling sweetgrass, soft growling from monsters he couldn’t see— there was always something. This sounded human, though, and panic and fear shot up Ethan’s spine.
Who could it be? Chris and his team? Ethan hadn't seen them since he'd woken up here, but he knew the man had to be somewhere. He had a feeling he'd have seen them by now. They were in all black, how hard was it to miss someone in all black when they were surrounded by snow?
It could very well be Heisenberg as well. The thought that it was the hammer welding Lord behind the doors of the church sent more fear shooting through Ethan. He tried to rationalize; he didn't have to go into the church. If anything, Ethan didn't even have to be here. He could go and deal with Moreau and then pretend that he had never even heard someone inside the church in the first place. If it was Chris he'd demand some answers from the man, but if it was Heisenberg... Ethan was as good as dead. He had no way to deal with the fourth Lord; the one deemed as the most dangerous of the four.
Against his better judgment, though, Ethan knew he'd have to go inside the church. He was too curious. Frowning, he retrieved the item from the well—a golden necklace with two holes, curiously— and made his way back to the church.
Gun up, he threw open the door and immediately trained his sights on the human form inside the building, ready to demand answers but—
He— Ethan had no fucking clue who this was.
He'd never seen this person before. He couldn't judge how tall they were because they were sitting down, one leg resting on some supply boxes. The soft blue light of the computer behind them casted their blond hair in blue light, and made their blue eyes shine even brighter. They stared at each other. Ethan blinking in shock, the other man staring at him with mild indignation, in the middle of chewing on something. Ethan had no clue what to say or what to do.
"Uhm—?" He said. The stranger was dressed exactly like Chris had been; all black with a long coat that had the collar up overtop. The stranger raised an eyebrow at him and stood.
They were no taller than Ethan was himself, looked as though they were the same height. The stranger's eyes shone a brilliant blue.
"...who are you?" Ethan asked. It should have been a demand, but Ethan was too shocked to get the words out properly.
The stranger wiped their face with one gloved hand and crossed their arms. "DSO Agent Kennedy," he said tersely. He gave Ethan a once over, but Ethan couldn't discern the look in his eyes.
"Agent Kennedy? Like… the Kennedy report?" He blurted. He couldn't help but ask, he was too curious about it.
Agent Kennedy frowned, rolling his eyes. He uncrossed and re-crossed his arms, and shook his head. "He made you read that?" He demanded, his short bangs swaying slightly in front of his eyes. Ethan didn't know who he was, but for some reason, he assumed the “he” agent Kennedy spoke about was Chris.
"... yeah?" He replied.
Agent Kennedy's frown deepened into a scowl, and he shook his head. "I'm going to kill him.” He said, and there was an angry, feral way his features twisted. “You're Ethan Winters. I presume?" He phrased it as a question, but Ethan had a feeling that he always knew the answer and he was asking just to be cordial. Ethan felt uncomfortable, he couldn't say why, but if this really was Agent Kennedy, he was a dangerous man. It didn't look like Agent Kennedy had any weapons on him at the moment, but Ethan couldn't be sure.
Ethan bristled. "How do you know my name?" He couldn't be sure if this man was with Chris and his team or not, no matter how similarly they were dressed. Even if it seemed like they knew each other.
Agent Kennedy just sighed and brought a two-way radio to his mouth, it crackled. Ethan heard someone say something on the other end, but he couldn't discern if he knew the owner of the voice. "Found your Winters, Alpha." Agent Kennedy said, and he made a face.
The voice on the other end said something; Agent Kennedy rolled his eyes. "Unless Rosemary Winters is a grown ass-man— Yes I'm certain it's Ethan. Why would it?— don't be stupid. You're the one monitoring Miranda, you tell me if she's where she was beforehand," he looked at Ethan and rolled his eyes. Sticking his tongue out in mock annoyance like they were at the bar or somewhere casual, and none of this was happening. "I told you. Now get your ass back to the church, Redfield." He simpered.
He put the walkie-talkie back down, and then leaned against a church pew. "Don't try to run." He said simply.
"I don't plan to," he snapped, Agent Kennedy raised an eyebrow, "I need a word with Chris Redfield." He didn't keep the hatred from his voice.
"What'd he do to you?"
"Besides shooting my wife and kidnapping my daughter?" He sneered.
To Ethan's surprise, Agent Kennedy's face hardened as though Ethan had said something wrong, and narrowed his eyes. He tilted his head to the side. "I'm sure he had his reasons." He said, his words clipped and harsh. There was no room to argue anything. "And besides. You don't know all the details." He shrugged.
Ethan wanted to reply, but Agent Kennedy's eyes bore into him, shutting him up. His eyes were so piercing… like the sky when lightning lights it up, and it was hard to find words. He lowered his gun, frowning. Slowly, he rounded one of the pews and collapsed into it. A moment of silence passed between them. He draped his arms on the pew in front of him and leaned his head forward. "If you're DSO, why are you working with the BSAA?" He asked.
Agent Kennedy let out a soft hmm. He had a soft voice that carried authority. "BSAA contacted the DSO when the vehicle carrying you and your daughter was found. The Hound Wolf Squad's job is to monitor Miranda, that takes up their time; they need someone else to look for you."
"And they sent only you?"
"You've read the Kennedy report." Was his simple reply and— yeah, he had him there. Ethan nodded, but he had no clue if Agent Kennedy saw it or not.
Chris and his team got there fifteen minutes later. He heard them coming moments before the door slammed open. Ethan flinched to attention, but Agent Kennedy hardly looked phased. A slow, lazy smile crossed his face. "Oh, look who's finally here." He drawled. Chris stomped inside, his expression shifted several times as he looked around the small church.
"What happened? No scrap?" Chris asked as he stepped up to Agent Kennedy. His features softened for just a moment.
"He was sitting on the ground and eating," Ethan said, and Chris looked back at him, then glared at Agent Kennedy.
"Leon." He chided, narrowing his eyes. "What if it wasn't Ethan, what if it was one of the Lords? You wouldn't have been ready." He seethed, grabbing Leon by the shoulders. Leon should have been angry but his features only softened just as Chris’ had. He reached out and took one of his hands, taking it in his own. He cradled it as though it were glass.
"I'm fine," he stressed.
"He could have shot you," Chris said, a pained expression crossing his face for a moment, "you need to be more careful."
Ethan looked away, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment; like this was something he shouldn't be seeing. He met the eyes of the only member of the squad whose face wasn't covered, and the soldier rolled his eyes with a small smile. He nodded to Ethan, stepped towards him, and hooked his hand around his elbow. "C'mon, let's give them a moment." He told Ethan.
"Sure…" he said.
The soldier took him by the arm and gently led him back outside into the cold. "Sorry about them, they can’t ever find common ground or not argue on missions like this. If it were up to Chris, I’m sure he’d wrap Leon up in bubble wrap and never let him leave the States," he explained with a small laugh and a roll of his eyes. He looked no older than Ethan, but the right side of his face was covered in scars, his skin was twisted and marred. His right eye was milky white, his pupil a dull grey, almost white. There was a scarf around his neck, a massive rifle slung over his shoulder. "I'm Piers Nivans. If you wouldn’t mind, care to run down what's happened so far up until this point for me?" He had a kind smile, for someone whose face was ruined by scarring.
Ethan opened his mouth to reply, but then paused, and frowned. “How well do you know Agent Kennedy?” He couldn’t help but ask, squinting at the sniper. He spoke about Leon—and Chris, even though he couldn’t recall Chris ever mentioning knowing Piers—with a familiarity of someone whom he’d known for several years at least.
Piers snorted. “Ever since… oh god, I can’t recall. Twenty-thirteen, I think? I don’t think he’d mind that I’m gossiping about him, though, he brought it on himself,” Piers winked at him, Ethan was too shocked to reply, “and don’t bother with titles and all that around him, he can’t stand formalities. Just Leon will do.” He scrunched up his nose and laughed.
“Oh…” Ethan replied, because Piers was being way too casual about this entire thing. He blinked.
Piers waved one gloved hand absentmindedly. “I know this must be a lot all of sudden, but don’t hate the Cap— Chris… Alpha. He’s… doing his job,” he said with a frown. Ethan made a face, but he knew it wouldn’t be fair to be mad at Piers for something Chris did.
“Forgive me for uhm— not wanting to take your word on that? He shot my wife.” Ethan snapped, crossing his arms. Piers’ expression blanked for a moment, and then he shook his head, shouldering the rifle on his shoulder. For a moment, he almost thought Piers would sling the rifle from his back and shoot Ethan. The look Piers gave him was gentle and sad, but not pity.
“He didn’t—” he started, “I didn’t— Look. I promise that everything will be explained to you in due time. I promise you that. Right now, though, could you tell me what’s happened to you up to this point?” He asked. Chris, who’d remained inside, stepped out from inside the church with Leon right in tow. His expression bordered on sheepish; Leon clung to one of his hands.
Leon gave Ethan a pointed look when he caught Ethan staring. Ethan looked away, flushing despite the cold.
“Oh good, you two are here. Figured everything out?” Piers drawled and snorted at the look Chris gave him. “Ethan here was going to give me the rundown of what’s happened on his end, and I figured you two would probably find that info useful.”
Chris inclined his head and offered Ethan a rueful smile. “It would be good to know, yes,” he said. Leon snorted.
“Just… you’ll explain everything to me after I do… right?” He asked. He met Chris’ gaze, as if daring him to say anything but yes, I will, but Chris’ gaze was just tired.
Chris only nodded. Ethan would take it.
So he gave Piers, Chris, and Leon the rundown of what happened to him, from the moment Mia had been shot by Chris and Rose kidnapped—when Leon heard that he gave Chris a truly nasty look— to waking up in the crashed vehicle. From getting to the village, losing his fingers, Luiza, meeting Duke and getting to the castle. He mentioned killing Dimitrescu, mentioned all the little tidbits he’d collected in her castle, and he talked about the… Rose flasks. They were silent as he spoke about getting the winged key and about taking down Beneviento and that everything leading up to finding Leon in the church.
“So you were…” Leon began, looking completely, hilariously confused, ”prolonging getting all of your daughter’s flasks because you… wanted to be sure that you didn’t miss anything in the village wells?”
Ethan bristled, feeling embarrassed. “There’s ammo in those buckets sometimes,” he said defensively, “and things that sell for good money.” He said. Leon looked at him for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. Fair enough, it seemed to say.
Piers made a face. “You’re gonna question ammunition in well buckets, but not selling to some merchant you know about, Leon?” He asked.
Leon laughed, a genuine, soft sound that felt out of place in the cold, miserable village. “I’m not going to judge about selling to mysterious merchants. That would be just hypocritical of me.” He mused. Chris rolled his eyes, as if he’d heard this point several times already. Ethan decided that was a can of worms he’d keep closed.
“That’s… basically it, though,” Ethan said after a stretch of silence. “Please… explain to me what the fuck is going on now.”
It was almost a demand, but his voice cracked. Chris stepped forward and placed a heavy hand on Ethan’s shoulder. He should have been cold, but even though his thick gloves Chris’ hand felt like a searing brand on his shoulder. “The woman we—I shot was not your wife, Ethan.” He said.
Ethan blinked. “Chris—”
“—it was Miranda,” he said, Ethan’s jaw clicked shut, “Miranda can change her appearance at will and she was pretending to be your wife.”
He gave Ethan a moment to process what he said.
Then the pieces clicked together.
That creepy-ass storybook, that dead, inhuman look in her eyes, the way she’d hardly looked phased when that first bullet found her shoulder. The way she’d looked offended; like it was a mild inconvenience to be shot. “...Oh,” came his meek reply.
He gripped Chris’ hand, feeling wobbly on his feet. “I was going to explain things to you, I promise, but Miranda threw a wrench in those plans. She imitated a corpse, then stole your daughter and left everyone else in that van to die. I… wasn’t quite aware you were actually alive until Leon contacted me.”
“Wait but… If that was Miranda…” Ethan began, “Where is the real... Mia? Where is my wife?” He choked out.
Silence.
Ethan whirled on Chris. “Where. Is. My. Wife.” It wasn’t a question.
Chris gave him a gentle look, as though he were trying to let him down easy. That wobbly feeling—vertigo, came back. “I…” he swallowed, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, “We don’t know.”
The world fell from under Ethan’s feet.
He staggered backward. “Oh, God.” He choked out, eyes wide. Piers turned his attention to the gun on his shoulder, Leon looked down, Chris hesitated to meet his eyes. They didn’t— they didn’t know where Mia was. This was as good as saying she was dead. He lowered himself onto the ground and hid his face in his hands.
“I hate you.” He said dully, because who else was he supposed to take it out on? “You were supposed to keep us safe. Now, look at us. My daughter is in flasks; I’m missing two fingers and my wife is missing and probably dead.”
Leon stepped forwards, “Now, that’s not—”
“Leon,” Chris said, gentle and calm. Leon shut right up. “He has every right to be mad. It was my job. I told them I’d keep them safe, and I do plan to hold myself to that now at least. Come on, Ethan, let’s—”
“If you think I’m stopping now, Chris, you’re fucking insane,” he interrupted, his voice level. “I am not letting you take me anywhere. I need to deal with Moreau and Heisenberg and get my daughter back. I’ve killed two of the four Lords already, what have you done?” He demanded, looking up and sneering at Chris.
He looked like he wanted to argue, but Leon placed an arm on his shoulder and gave him a soft look. “I’ll go with him,” he said, humming, “it’s clear Ethan won’t take no for an answer. Also, he does have a point, he’s gotten far more done than we have. You and your team can continue monitoring Miranda, and I'll make sure Ethan doesn't get himself killed." He simpered, but he spoke in a voice that he seemed to reserve only for Chris.
Chris narrowed his eyes, but Ethan knew the look in them; that was love; Ethan would know. Chris might argue, but he wouldn’t put up a real fight.
Eventually, Chris sighed. He nodded and crossed his arms. "Fine. But if you die on me Leon S. Kennedy I'm going to be so fucking pissed." He warned, and Leon laughed. He took Chris' face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together for a moment.
"I've made it this far, haven't I?" He patted Chris' shoulder, then shoved him lightly towards the church. "Go back to monitoring Miranda. I've got this." He called to the man as Chris disappeared back into the church. He flipped Leon off; Leon snorted. Chris called for Piers, and the sniper rolled his eyes as he followed. Leon held a hand out for him.
Ethan sighed, and let the man pull him up. "Thank you…" he said gently, almost hesitantly.
Leon gave him a kind smile, and clapped Ethan on the shoulder. "C'mon!" He laughed. "Lead the way, Winters, we have wells to check and Lords to kill!" He mused. Ethan stared at him for a moment, struggling to make sense between the Leon he saw before him and the Leon he’d read about. Leon smirked and followed after Ethan as they made their way towards the plot, his footsteps nearly inaudible.
Ethan let out a surprised laugh, and shook his head. "We have wells to check and Lords to kill," he agreed, smiling.