Chapter Text
It was a frigid night.
The sound of military helicopter blades echoed throughout the village, along with the thunder of bombs fired at Miranda’s territory. Chris felt uneasy about the BSAA showing up out of nowhere on a mission that was supposed to belong solely to his team. As he crossed the forest, fully geared and with the Hound Wolf Squad under his command, one of the members, identified as Canine, called his attention.
"Alpha, take a look." He handed him the sniper rifle.
Chris positioned himself beside him at the edge of the hill where the squad stood and witnessed BSAA soldiers descending from the helicopter, only to be attacked moments later by Miranda’s mutant roots, which soon brought the aircraft down, hurling it into the lake.
"Holy shit." Chris sighed, still not understanding. "The BSAA wasn’t supposed to be here."
"Change of plans?" Brown Eyes, another member of the elite squad, asked.
"No. The plan remains the same: save Rose and destroy Miranda," Chris said firmly. He took the opportunity to scan the village ahead. The ceremony site was on the other side, but the village was swarming with lycans, and being outnumbered, the squad wouldn’t stand a chance against the creatures. They would need a shortcut, and that was when Castle Dimitrescu caught his attention. "We’ll take the castle trail. That way we won’t draw as much attention from those abominations. In the meantime, plant the explosives to blow this whole place once the mission is over."
"Understood."
Leading the way, Chris moved forward with his men alert behind him.
"Canine."
"Yes, Alpha." Canine quickened his pace to walk beside Chris.
"I want you to investigate the BSAA and find out what they came here for. Gather all the information you can."
"Consider it done."
Canine broke off from the team, taking a narrow path west and disappearing completely into the forest. After several minutes of careful walking, the squad found themselves on a bridge, cornered by four lycans — humanoid creatures with lupine faces, their mouths filled with sharp fangs capable of tearing through anything. Chris and Brown Eyes fired at the same time, exterminating the creatures quickly and effortlessly. Then they advanced as fast as possible.
Crossing the bridge, they reached one of the castle’s first towers. It lay in ruins; the upper section had been shattered, reduced to chunks of stone scattered everywhere, as if something grotesque had slammed into the bricks and caused its destruction. Since the area was suspicious, Chris gestured for his team to sweep the surroundings, making sure no lycans were nearby. They split into pairs, except for Chris, who preferred to search alone. His first target was a small abandoned cabin. The door was ajar, the windows shattered, and the aged wood groaned with rough sounds. Chris drew his flashlight, searching for tracks, blood, anything… but nothing. Nothing but abandonment.
"Alpha! You need to see this!"
Chris recognized Wolf’s voice outside and hurried to discover what his team had found. The four stood before the double doors of the ruined tower, and although their masks and night-vision goggles concealed their faces, their tense muscles were unmistakable. As soon as Chris approached the entrance, he understood why they were frozen in place. There was a massive carcass inside the tower; the winged creature, gray-skinned, resembled a dragon fused with a bat and other unknown species. Likely one of Miranda’s experiments. Chris assumed the creature had caused the tower’s collapse, and Wolf advanced stealthily.
"It must have been killed by Ethan. That explains this whole mess," he commented.
"That thing has wings, or is it just me?" Night Howl asked.
"That was the first thing I noticed," Tundra said. "This is bizarre. Just imagining that Miranda created something like this."
Chris prodded the carcass with the barrel of his rifle, wanting to be certain it was truly dead. The creature had a long tail and four legs with enormous claws, and a deformed head that possessed only a mouth and nostrils. On its hunched back, a female human torso could be distinguished, missing its head and arms. Its skin looked as though it were made entirely of ash. And it was impossible not to notice its enormous bat wings folded around the carcass. It was while tracing those wings that he noticed something in its thoracic region; there was a crack, preserving a figure inside. Chris was alarmed when he realized it was a human woman.
"Help me open this!"
"You want us to open that thing right here?!" Wolf questioned.
"There’s a person inside," Chris warned, pulling one of his hunting knives from his vest and skillfully slicing into the carcass to create an opening.
The rest of the squad hurried to assist him, pulling back excess flesh until they could widen the gap enough to retrieve the body — and then came a second surprise. The lower half of the carcass was consumed by layers of shimmering crystals, which reminded Chris of the young Zoe Baker — an infected victim whose skin had crystallized. And at the center of it all lay the body of an unknown woman. Her marble-white skin bore cracks in certain places, and her black wavy hair concealed her face. She was unconscious, her body curled up, thin roots from the carcass connected to her, wrapped around her limbs like cords.
Cautious, Chris crouched and stepped inside the carcass. As he cut one of the roots with his blade, severing the connection to the victim, claws suddenly sprouted from her hands, and Tundra pulled Chris back just in time to prevent him from being slashed. The woman’s body remained motionless, and the claws retracted within seconds.
"What the hell was that?!" Night Howl shouted. "Wasn’t she dead?!"
"Could it have been a reflex?" Tundra said breathlessly. "A reaction from the mold."
"Orders, Alpha?" Wolf stepped forward, awaiting Chris’s decision regarding the woman’s fate: kill her or spare her.
Chris was nearly ready to give the final order and end it once and for all so they could proceed with the mission, if not for the fact that the woman suddenly awakened. She vomited blood and mold, coughing, gasping, convulsing as she struggled for air. The squad raised their weapons at her simultaneously — all except Chris, who approached and gathered her fragile, inert body into his chest. She gasped and trembled, frightened and disbelieving that she was alive.
Her black hair slipped away from her face. Chris studied her features: a woman between thirty-five and forty years old, approximately 5'6" tall. She shuddered again as she came to, her eyes slowly opening, revealing a sky-blue color. Through them, Chris saw just how human she seemed, even though she was an experiment. She was disoriented, trembling in his arms.
"Who are you?" Chris whispered.
With a faint breath, the woman pleaded:
"Daughters."
Darkness swallowed her, and her body fell into anguished sleep. Was she trying to say something? Chris wondered. Was it a plea to save her supposed daughters? If so, how many were there? Where were they?
Questions swirled around him, none of them with any immediate answers. Under the current circumstances, there wasn’t much he could do. He needed to find Ethan and save Rosemary, in addition to deciding the woman’s fate. Perhaps the BSAA could examine her and remove the remaining mold still visible in her body.
Tundra, the only woman in the squad, removed her coat to cover the unidentified woman’s body. Chris gave her an appreciative look and stood, holding the woman in his arms.
"Brown Eyes." Chris handed the woman over to the soldier. "Take her to the helicopter and try to contact Canine. Tell him to return and watch over her until further orders."
"Understood." Brown Eyes nodded and headed back across the bridge toward their starting point.
"What are your plans for her?" Tundra asked.
"The BSAA will take care of her once we’re done," Chris replied, turning toward the hill where the ceremony was taking place. "Let’s move."
***
Everything happened very quickly. Chris tried in every way to help Ethan reach the helicopter, warning him that the entire place would explode within minutes. Rose was in his arms, Mother Miranda had been defeated, and Ethan was practically disintegrating. His body was pure mold, and there was no hope left for him.
"Take care of her." Those were his last words to Chris as he handed Rose over along with his coat. "Teach her to be strong."
Using his remaining strength, Ethan shoved Chris back, saving him from being struck by one of the Megamycete’s mutant roots. In that brief moment, Ethan took control of the detonator from Chris’s hands and headed toward where the organism had manifested. Knowing what Ethan intended to do — and that nothing could be done for him — Chris ran with Rose in his arms, crossing the village consumed by blazing flames, passing charred bodies of lycans and humans — innocents who hadn’t managed to take refuge — until he finally reached his helicopter, where his entire team awaited him.
"Hand her here!" Wolf extended his arms to take Rose, while Canine grabbed Chris’s arm to help him into the aircraft.
"Where’s Ethan?" Canine asked.
The answer came in the form of an explosion beneath them. The helicopter shook violently, and Night Howl regained control moments later.
"Ethan’s gone," Chris replied, watching black smoke engulf the village ruins.
Only the castle remained intact, standing beyond the range where the explosives had been planted.
"Alpha, come see this." Brown Eyes motioned for Chris toward the back of the cabin, where the body of one of the BSAA agents had been found dead. When Chris approached the corpse, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. "The BSAA didn’t send soldiers. They’re bioweapons."
"What the hell are they thinking?!" Chris’s indignation was unmistakable. He had already suspected the organization earlier, and now this evidence gave him even more reason to investigate the BSAA and settle accounts with whoever was responsible for all of it.
"What do we do with her now?" Brown Eyes asked, glancing at the rescued woman, still unconscious, wrapped in a blanket and laid across one of the seats.
Chris evaluated the situation distantly. Now that he knew the BSAA was using bioweapons — and that there might be corruption within the organization — they would clearly use the woman for experiments and create more weapons. That would be a huge problem. Especially if they got their hands on Rose. Chris would not let Ethan and Mia die in vain. He would honor their wish: take care of Rose.
"We can’t hand her over to the BSAA. We’re heading to the European Blue Umbrella hospital. It’s the only safe place for both of them right now."
Everyone remained alert as Night Howl changed course toward the Blue Umbrella base, where they could rest and receive proper medical treatment. Without anyone noticing — overwhelmed by everything they had endured — the black-haired woman briefly awakened. Her eyes caught sight of the castle, her final image before the helicopter’s rear door closed, darkening the entire cabin. Once again, she returned to a deep sleep.
***
Two days had passed since the events in the village. Rose was being cared for by Blue Umbrella’s doctors and was constantly protected, with Chris by her side at all times, monitoring the baby’s condition. His colleagues were present as well, each assigned to a sector of the base. The corporation had once existed only in the United States, but had now expanded into Europe, following the same ideology as the BSAA of establishing companies worldwide to ensure humanity’s safety. A doctor entered the room where Rose and Chris were, carrying a clipboard.
"Chris." The doctor nodded.
"Dr. Campbell." He returned the greeting.
"That woman you brought from the village — she woke up recently. And as we suspected, she still has the Cadou inside her, but it was severely damaged within her system, which prevents her from using any abilities she may have developed from the mold."
"That’s good. We won’t have much trouble with her. Is it possible for me to interrogate her?"
Dr. Campbell looked at him contemplatively and said,
"You can try, but believe me, you won’t get any useful information out of her."
Chris frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"I’ll explain on the way to her."
Dr. Campbell opened the door, allowing Chris to step out first. Outside, his colleague Canine — Dion Wilson — stood guard in Rose’s room until Chris returned. As they walked down the white, brightly lit corridors, Campbell explained the case of the woman from the village.
"As soon as she woke up, I had the chance to speak with her and run some tests. Unfortunately, the entire incident severely affected her brain."
"Affected it how?"
"Memory loss. She doesn’t know where she came from, not even her own name. The reports you found in Miranda’s hideout are indeed connected to her — and much more…" They stopped in front of a door, presumably the room where the woman was staying. Beneath his clipboard was one of the books Chris had found during his mission. The aged cover bore a crest of flowers with two crossed swords. "Our research indicates her name is Alcina Dimitrescu, and she was one of Miranda’s first test subjects. Unfortunately, she remembers none of it."
Chris flipped through a few pages briefly; he had already read about her before, along with other data regarding Alcina’s age, weight, and the effects the Cadou had on her body.
"Are there any chances she could recover her memory?"
"Our exams detected a complication… rather abnormal and drastic — from the Cadou itself," Campbell explained. "The parasite reacted aggressively during the battle. The trauma from the attack triggered an instant mental block in Alcina’s mind — a primitive survival instinct from the parasite to protect itself. As a consequence, her mind was shattered, and the fragments were concealed by the Cadou. The parasite is like a second consciousness, an intrusive mini-brain that stole her memories, and since it’s dormant… well, I believe the damage may be permanent. We’ve never seen anything like this."
Chris inhaled deeply, processing all the information.
"I’ll talk to her. If I make any progress, I’ll let you know."
He handed the book back and cautiously entered the room, finding Alcina staring out the window beside her bed.
Even though the countryside landscape was beautiful, her gaze was dull, revealing how lost she was in her own thoughts. Only when Chris closed the door behind him did Alcina notice his presence, allowing him a clearer look at her face.
Her skin was no longer as pale as before, appearing more human. Her black hair was neatly arranged above her shoulders, curled at the ends. Alcina wore a hospital gown. Chris was not one to dwell on appearances, but he had to admit to himself that Alcina possessed a unique beauty. They were not alone in the room. Emily (Tundra) was also present, assigned to monitor Alcina during her recovery.
"You’re finally awake," Chris murmured calmly. "I was told you woke up recently. How are you feeling?"
Alcina did not answer immediately, studying Chris’s face and gradually recognizing him.
"Your face… You’re the man who found me."
"I’m glad you remember that. Dr. Campbell said you don’t remember anything else."
"Dr. Campbell?" Alcina whispered thoughtfully.
"The man who was in your room earlier."
"Oh… yes." Alcina recalled faintly, shrinking slightly on the bed.
"Maybe you’re feeling insecure after waking up in an unfamiliar place, but no one here is going to hurt you." Unless you activate those claws again, Chris thought. "You suffered an accident. A serious head injury. My team and I brought you here. Do you remember anything before that?"
"I…" Alcina tried her hardest, but her mind revealed nothing. A complete void. "I don’t remember anything."
"You don’t know about your home? Family?… Children?" Chris remembered she had mentioned her "daughters" during the rescue and wanted to see if she would recall it.
"I… don’t remember." Alcina repeated.
The confusion in her eyes was evident, and Chris found no trace of deceit.
"We’ll look into any possible relatives and keep you informed. Your memories may return someday, but for now, rest. I’ll come back later."
Chris stepped closer to Emily and murmured near her ear,
"Did she say anything to you?"
"No. She’s been staring out the window all morning," Emily replied, watching Alcina return her gaze to the blinds. "She barely touched her food."
"Keep watching her. Call me if anything happens."
Leaving the room, Chris crossed a few corridors to meet Campbell and report his experience. They spoke for much of the day. The doctor remarked that it was nearly a miracle Alcina had survived, and that such survival might have been caused by some evolution of the Cadou even Miranda hadn’t known about. Theoretically speaking — but if that proved true in the future, it could become a serious problem. It could also mean there was a chance Miranda herself had survived. There were still many unknowns about the Cadou.
***
They were dark nights for her.
As time passed, Alcina remained lost, dissociated — perceiving the world around her as artificial. From her perspective, everything surrounding her felt anomalous. And she didn’t know why she felt that way. There was a void inside her, an endless icy darkness wrapping around her stomach, her bones…
Cold.
Alcina stared at glimpses of silver flakes falling outside, cushioning against the window. The winter season was harsh that year. Breathing the air was like inhaling dry, frozen shards of ice. It was a piercing pain.
Cold.
Her eyes burned; a furtive tear slipped down. Alcina was petrified, her fists clenched tightly over the hospital blanket.
"Are you okay?"
Emily’s voice brought Alcina back to the present. She turned toward the uniformed woman standing half a meter from the door.
"What?" Alcina asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, disoriented.
"You’re crying."
Alcina blinked, expressionless. Apparently, she hadn’t realized a solitary tear had dampened her cheek.
She turned back to the window and said softly,
"Cold."
Emily assumed the draft seeping through the cracks was causing her discomfort and left her post to close the curtains, shielding her from the winter. From the world.
To ease the throbbing in her temple, the tightness in her chest, and the freezing emptiness, Alcina curled up in the hospital bed, seeking to drown the endless silence with a single solution: sleep.
Sleep became her escape hatch to endure the delusions and chronic stress pounding inside her head.
She did not eat — because she felt no need to.
She did not interact — because she had nothing to say.
And that sharp pain, she realized, did not come from the cold of the snow.
It came from inside her heart.
***
Chris began monitoring Alcina frequently. Of everyone, Chris was the only face Alcina had grown familiar with — after all, he had saved her. Trust was built through continuous presence. Chris shared false information at times to test her, but sudden memory lapses would interrupt their conversations, and Alcina would complain about sharp jabs in her head whenever she tried to remember something.
Outside the room, Emily informed him that Alcina was suffering from loss of appetite — along with excessive sleepiness, fatigue, repeated and disconnected words, and irritability.
Post-traumatic stress, Campbell had said, compounded by depression due to social isolation and recent amnesia. Daily tests were conducted, and Alcina faced new challenges: mental and sensory exercises. There were no mutations in her body. Alcina was in a state of cognitive decline due to the serum implanted in her system — drugged day after day, sedated with substances that suppressed the parasite.
It was necessary to guarantee safety — for the hospital and for herself. Still, Chris was beginning to grow uneasy about the amount of medication being administered to her. And the BSAA soldiers circling the building were already watching her closely.
With Alcina’s memories stored within the Cadou, completely dissociated from her original brain, Campbell considered the desolation irreversible — as long as the parasite remained suppressed. Untouched.
As for Rose, she was special. A child born of mold, inheriting abilities from it. She would need to be trained to control them, and Chris would take responsibility for that — determined to adopt her.
One night, Chris visited Alcina again. Seeing her so desolate made him reflect; her depression might go far beyond isolation and emotional exhaustion. "Daughters," she had once said, even though she couldn’t remember. And if she had been a mother… how deeply could grief destroy someone? Especially a mother who had lost her children and been violently severed from them, unable to remember their faces, their voices… forced to live "normally" as if they had never existed.
Then a hypothesis arose — a test of adaptation, a way to make the sky-blue of Alcina’s eyes shine vividly again.
What if he introduced Alcina to Rose?
If they complemented each other, Chris could not only claim custody of Rosemary, but of Alcina as well. That way, the BSAA wouldn’t be able to exploit them — turn them into bioweapons for profit.
"I’d like to introduce you to someone. Do you think you can walk?"
Alcina gave a slight nod.
"I think so."
Chris extended his hand and guided her out of the room. Alcina needed a few seconds for her motor coordination to adjust before taking her first steps.
It was awful. Alcina felt like a baby learning to crawl, her legs barely cooperating. Even though Chris held her hand, she felt the need to lean against the walls whenever she sensed her knees faltering. Chris anticipated it each time, steadying his arm around her before she could collapse. He was meticulous.
"Take your time," Chris encouraged gently. "One step at a time."
As they moved forward, Alcina inspected the hospital. Soldiers were everywhere. They stared at her coldly; weapons at the ready. Alcina swallowed nervously, her chest beginning to hyperventilate.
Her fingers tightened around Chris’s hand with surprising strength — far more surprising to Chris than to herself.
"It’s okay. You’re safe," Chris murmured.
Trying to compose herself, Alcina assumed she should have stayed in her room.
"I want to go back," she asked, pressing herself against the wall.
"We’re almost there. Just around the next corridor," Chris directed. "You’re doing very well. Trust me."
Still hesitant, Alcina allowed herself to be guided. But nausea climbed her throat as panic settled in her chest. She felt like she was going to vomit…
One. Two. Three. Four… she recited mentally — one of the exercises Campbell had taught her for panic attacks.
Then the bright light of the new room struck her face, temporarily blurring her vision.
Alcina found Charlie (Night Howl) inside, and Rose was fussing in her crib, on the verge of crying.
"You came at the right time. I have no idea what to do with this girl," Charlie muttered, rubbing his temple.
Chris stepped forward, picking Rose up and rocking her gently, but she began crying louder.
"I wish you were meeting her in a quieter moment," Chris said to Alcina.
Thoughtful, Alcina looked at Rose from a distance, feeling a sharp sting in her temple; her heart immediately began to race.
She took a step forward to approach the child. Charlie discreetly adjusted the weapon at his waist so Alcina wouldn’t notice. Chris shot him a subtle warning look, gesturing for caution. Charlie loosened his grip on the pistol.
Alcina kept walking, focused entirely on the baby. She stopped in front of Chris, less than half a meter away.
"She’s so small," Alcina observed, her eyes completely fixed on Rose, entranced. "Is she your daughter?"
"Not exactly. But she will be from now on."
Rose hiccupped, squirming in his arms.
Whether it was dormant maternal instinct, a neurological impulse, or simply Chris’s awkward handling of the baby, Alcina spoke up:
"May I try to calm her, if you’d like?"
Chris considered it. He had noticed her trembling had ceased; she seemed serene — even eager. He nodded.
He watched closely as Alcina extended her arms and carefully took Rose into her own, cradling her gently.
Chris clearly saw Alcina’s dull eyes transform into the most vibrant shade of blue he had ever witnessed. Fascination radiated from them; the fog clouding her heart seemed to lift. She inhaled Rose’s scent deeply — antiseptic mixed with baby powder.
Breathing in again, her heightened sense of smell detected a faint fragrance — lavender and roses — embedded in Rose’s blankets.
The crying softened as Alcina rocked her, humming. She supported the baby’s head with her right arm, her hand resting against Rose’s back, soothing her muscles.
"What’s her name?"
"Rose… Rosemary," Chris replied, surprised by Alcina’s natural ease, as the baby was indeed calming down.
"Rose," Alcina sang softly. "Don’t cry, little Rose. There is no harm that can touch you."
Rose began staring at Alcina, her bright eyes full of curiosity. A tiny arm stretched out, reaching for Alcina’s wavy strands, tangling in them and gripping gently without pulling. Now she had something to occupy her attention.
Chris gestured for Charlie to step aside with him.
They moved a short distance away, watching Alcina as they whispered.
"I expected everything except that maternal instinct," Charlie murmured.
"What did you expect? Her slicing Rose with her claws?" Chris joked.
"Honestly? I pictured her opening some giant fanged mouth and swallowing the kid whole."
"That village really traumatized you. Booked a therapist yet?"
"Go to hell."
They chuckled quietly while Alcina continued rocking Rose, who soon yawned — sleepy.
"When we found her, she whispered ‘daughters’ to me before passing out. I think she was a mother. That’s why she handled Rose so well," Chris said softly, ensuring Alcina couldn’t hear. "But she doesn’t remember anymore."
"Do you think those daughters could still be alive?"
"I doubt it. No one in that village survived. And the few who escaped won’t dare return to that region — especially with everything destroyed." Chris crossed his arms, watching Alcina lay Rose back in the crib once she had fallen asleep. "I’m relieved they got along. It’ll make things easier now."
"You’re taking the woman too?" Charlie asked, stunned.
"The less access the BSAA has to them, the better. The men are already watching her — orders from the director, I’m sure," Chris deduced. "With me, they’ll be safe. And I made Ethan a promise. I intend to keep it. This stays between us. Understood?"
"You can count on me, Captain."
Winter bid farewell a month later.
Flowers bloomed in honor of the first spring dawn.
Alcina could hardly believe it when sunlight kissed her face; when the breeze brushed through her hair, and the scent of freedom grazed her nostrils.
I’m outside. Finally outside.
Ahead, Chris waved at her, leaning against the hood of his black pickup truck — a Toyota Hilux Revo. He brought a cigarette to his lips as he crossed the road to meet his new protégées.
Alcina felt a gloved hand touch her shoulder. It was Emily.
"Got everything you need?" she asked with a smile.
Alcina held Rose in her arms, wrapped in a soft pink wool blanket. Deeply asleep. A bag containing medication and donated clothes had been given to her before discharge.
"Yes." Alcina nodded, her head still slightly foggy from morphine.
Chris approached, tossed the remaining half of his cigarette onto the ground, and crushed it beneath his boot. Emily waved goodbye and returned inside the hospital.
"How do you feel?" Chris asked.
"My brain feels like jelly."
Chris smiled faintly.
"That’s the morphine. It’ll wear off soon." He glanced at Rose sleeping in Alcina’s arms. "She’s gotten used to sleeping there."
"Rose was restless earlier. I sang to calm her."
Chris frowned curiously.
"You sing?"
Alcina nodded, looking down at Rose — for some reason she felt shy admitting it.
"I… didn’t know I could. It just happened. And… I think I was born in Romania."
"Did you remember anything else? Your name?"
Alcina shook her head. Her expression dimmed.
"Dr. Campbell mentioned something about selective memory… honestly, I don’t understand much about medicine. But…" her features clouded with sadness, "he said the chances of recovery are almost nonexistent."
"Not everything is lost," Chris said softly. "You won’t be alone. I’ll be your guardian. I know it may be hard at first, but things will fall into place. And if someone comes looking for you, we’ll make sure you’re returned to your family."
A flicker of hope shimmered in Alcina’s eyes.
They walked to the truck. Chris opened the passenger door for her, making it easier for her to climb in with Rose in her arms. As he maneuvered onto the westbound road, he glanced sideways at the baby.
"Good thing she’s asleep. It’s a long drive. It could’ve stressed her out."
Alcina watched the Blue Umbrella base gradually disappear as the truck sped down the road. She tried to imprint the rural landscape into her mind, eager to fill it with new memories to replace what had been stolen from her.
She held Rose closer, wanting to feel her against her chest — to synchronize their heartbeats.
"Where are we going?"
Chris’s lips curved into a warm smile.
"Home."
***
16 years later.
The shrill, irritating sound that only phone alarms can produce blared in Helena’s ears. Used to waking up in a foul mood — especially when she hadn’t slept properly due to meaningless nightmares — she felt even worse that morning.
And of course, it had to be a Thursday.
"For fuck’s sake."
With anger, Helena turned off the alarm — punching it with her clenched fist. If she had Rose’s supernatural powers, she knew she would have already destroyed that device. She got up with her long wavy hair completely messy, puffed up like a dark cloud over her face, a reflection of a poorly slept night.
Stumbling, Helena walked down the long white hallway, rubbing her fingers into her eyes. She had always considered Chris’s house too big for three people.
Helena nearly slammed Rose’s bedroom door open as she entered, putting part of her weight on the handle.
"Time to wake up! Your class starts in forty minutes." Despite the warning, Rose remained motionless, curled under the blanket. Her left arm was the only visible limb, her wrist wrapped with a hair tie. Helena knew the loud bang of the door had already woken the girl, so she moved to tactic two. "I’m going to count to three. If you’re not up by then, you’ll regret it. 1... 2..." She paused to build tension. Rose didn’t move. "Do you really want to find out what happens at 3?"
With a jump, Rosemary leapt out of bed, her expression deliciously alarmed in Helena’s eyes.
"I’m going! I’m going!"
Rose dashed out of the room, the hallway echoing in rhythm with her hurried footsteps. Helena smiled, satisfied, and opened the bedroom window to let the breeze chase away the chaotic, uninhabitable atmosphere that was a sixteen-year-old’s room. Pairs of sneakers and socks scattered all over the floor; magazines and music records mixed across the study desk and shelves of school and fiction books. Earphones were tangled on the pillow.
Band posters peeling off the wall above the headboard and twisted blankets were the most common daily sight.
How Rose managed to find anything in that room was a mystery Helena would never solve.
While Rose occupied the bathroom, Helena went downstairs to the kitchen, a spacious area designed with a step-down layout connecting to the living room. Chris arrived at the same time, carrying a bag with fresh bread and proteins for breakfast.
Despite his considerably advanced age, he had resisted time well; his brownish-gray hair remained vibrant, his slightly wrinkled skin firm, his muscular body (like a stone giant) strengthened by his renowned career as a soldier. Clear, wise, welcoming eyes and a rough beard were his most attractive features.
At first glance, he looked like a pitbull. After intimacy, he revealed himself to be a bulldog. Aggressive in appearance; affectionate and gentle (in rare moments even needy) in soul — that was the description Helena had given Chris when they adapted to shared living.
"Nice new hairstyle," Chris gestured sarcastically.
Helena growled softly — a natural habit of hers that Chris and Rose found cute and amusing. Rose had adopted the same behavior over the years, though not as frequently. Helena walked to the medicine cabinet; bottles, jars, and blister packs of pills manufactured by Blue Umbrella nearly overflowed from the small compartment.
From a distance, Chris watched Helena take the white bottle with the blue Blue Umbrella emblem and only looked away after she swallowed the pill dry. Then she went upstairs to the bathroom, assuming Rose had already freed it.
She washed her face, brushed her hair, and applied a bit of makeup to hide the dark circles. Meanwhile, anticipating the urgency of the two women and their commitments, Chris began setting the table with what he had bought earlier at the corner bakery.
Soon, Rose came downstairs wearing jeans, white Converse sneakers, and her father’s jacket. She also wore a cap — her indispensable accessory.
"Good morning, Chris." Rose tapped his shoulder and helped him set the table.
"Good morning." Chris pulled out a chair, sitting at the head of the table. "Did Helena wake you up with a fake spider or another bucket of water?"
"I jumped out of bed before she could think of anything." Rose laughed, sitting at his right side. "I don’t want to go through the same thing as last time, with the whole bed soaked."
Chris knew how much Helena cared about Rose’s studies, doing everything to get her out of bed early. Despite Helena’s constant attempts, Rose had never used her powers for revenge, because she deeply respected her. The two had developed an admirable — and maternal, in Chris’s view — bond, becoming inseparable. Rose never knew Helena’s true past, only that she had suffered a car accident on the city’s outskirts and, because Chris had developed a friendship with her during her hospital recovery, he had taken both of them in. That was his version.
It had taken time for Rose to adjust to the idea that the older man and woman in the house were not married, nor romantically involved. Chris had always taken good care of them. He always gave his best, supporting and providing. As for Helena, she was the unofficial mother of the house, assuming such duties. Their relationship was a genuine friendship built on gratitude.
Helena was the substitute name for Alcina.
The medications she took daily slowed the Cadou in her system. The effects gave her artificially human skin, keeping her abilities dormant and containing the color fusion of her eyes — once yellow, now intensely blue. In the files concerning Alcina, written by Miranda, the medical team discovered an extremely rare blood condition, a hereditary disease Alcina had faced before becoming an experiment.
Blue Umbrella required Chris to justify the mandatory use of the pills with that illness; to encourage Helena to consume them and thus keep both the Cadou and her memories isolated — suppressed by drugs and monthly injections during her exams at the BSAA laboratory linked to Blue Umbrella.
Chris never had the courage to tell Helena the truth. And after everything they had built and learned together, he would rather die and take that secret to his grave.
The only thing he disapproved of were the medications. They were necessary, he knew. They were to protect Helena — to protect her from the parasite inside her. Although there were consequences, harmful to her mind and body… they were necessary.
Chris only wanted both Helena and Rose to have a normal life.
Finally, Helena came out of the bathroom with her hair tied in a ponytail, her curls loose at the ends. She loved that hairstyle on sunny days. She sat at the table with Chris and Rose, taking the seat at the opposite end.
"Now, good morning." she said, pouring herself coffee.
Noticing her tired expression, Chris asked,
"Rough night?"
"I tossed and turned all night. I hate these meds." Helena grumbled, cracking her neck.
"They’re for your health," Chris justified, spreading butter on a slice of bread. "Besides, was there another reason for the insomnia? Any hallucinations?"
Helena set the coffee pot back on the table, her cup steaming, and murmured,
"I don’t remember anything."
"Tell us something new." Rose teased with a smile.
Helena grabbed a napkin and tossed it at Rose, causing loud laughter from the girl.
Chris smiled briefly, his expression calm.
"Girls, if you want war, make it a pillow fight — not at the table." he said peacefully. "And you, young lady, with that attitude, you’re not going to heaven."
"Hel likes my jokes." Rose defended herself, nibbling on toast. "By the way, can you pick me up from school tomorrow?" she asked Helena.
"Of course."
Helena never refused a request from Rose, no matter what she was doing. She always gave up her own plans to attend to her.
They finished breakfast at the same time and began preparing to leave. Rose went upstairs to grab her backpack, while Helena changed clothes. She put on black leggings, a white jacket tied around her waist, and a dark blue tank top. She slipped into her black sneakers, grabbed her purse, and went downstairs, meeting Rose at the door with headphones on and backpack ready.
"Don’t forget about our appointment tomorrow afternoon." Chris reminded them, still sipping his coffee.
"We’ll see you there!" Helena said, closing the door.
They headed to the garage, where Chris’s pickup truck and Helena’s black Troller T4 — her first car, bought five years earlier — were parked. Rose buckled her seatbelt while Helena turned on the radio, tuning into her beloved jazz station. It was her favorite genre, and Rose, though she preferred rock from the 60s and 80s, appreciated it too.
On the main avenue, on the way downtown, Helena took the opportunity to talk to Rose, since Chris wasn’t around.
"You used to be more playful in the mornings. Did something happen?" Helena asked, getting straight to the point.
"Just tomorrow." Rose said, looking out the window, her voice low. "It’s their anniversary."
Helena pressed her lips together, her face tightening slightly in guilt.
"Of course." she sighed. "I’m sorry, I completely forgot."
"It’s okay, Hel."
"It’s not okay, I should’ve remembered." Helena turned a corner. "Damn meds. Is that why you asked me to pick you up instead of taking the bus? To visit them?"
"If you’re not busy..."
"Of course not, Rose. I’ll never mind taking you to your parents’ grave. We can stop by the flower shop and buy them flowers."
Rose smiled gratefully.
"Thank you, Hel."
When Rose was only four years old and used her powers for the first time, Helena was the first to witness it — and naturally, she was frightened. Later, Chris told her about the tragic past of the Winters family, about the mold, his history with Umbrella and S.T.A.R.S., adding the fight against bio-weapons while avoiding any mention of the village, Miranda, and the Cadou. Despite the initial shock, Helena did not distance herself. On the contrary, she grew even closer to Rose, forming a strong bond between them — something both of them needed without knowing how deeply their lives were connected.
Helena dropped Rose off at school on time and then returned home, where she slept the rest of the day until it was time for work. The pub was only two blocks away — one of the few advantages of the job. Even so, she walked briskly, the day beginning to darken, streetlights already on.
While crossing the main avenue, a car sped by too fast, forcing her to take a sharp step back. The bastard even had the audacity to honk as if he were right.
"Watch where you’re going, you asshole!" Helena shouted, raising her middle finger at the car before continuing on her way, irritated.
The place where she worked was an upscale night pub, known for its elegant atmosphere, dim lighting, and live music every night. The venue attracted demanding customers — businessmen, influential figures, and people willing to pay high prices for a good drink. Helena worked in the bar area, preparing drinks and mainly serving wine to the most coveted clients in the house. She had done surprisingly well in the position, something she attributed to both her confident posture and her knowledge of wine brands and how to use them to persuade clients to pay more for the best bottle.
When she entered, she noticed the lounge was still relatively calm. The band was adjusting sound levels on stage, and Rubby was cleaning one of the tables. Helena went straight to the bar area, where she found Eddie, one of the cooks, leaning against the counter with an expression far too proud for someone who had definitely done something wrong. He was only ten years younger than her.
"Thank God you’re here." Eddie said, pushing a small plate toward her. "I need your professional opinion."
On the plate was a cupcake. The frosting was crooked, exaggerated, decorated with colorful candy and cream spread chaotically, forming something that vaguely resembled a face in distress.
"What do you think?" he asked, puffing out his chest. "I’m the Picasso of cupcakes, right?"
Helena tilted her head, twisting her lip in disapproval.
"It’s horrible."
"Your sense of humor is amazing."
"It’s not humor, it’s honesty." she replied, handing the plate back. "Hide that before it traumatizes a customer. You’re great with appetizers, Eddie. Dessert clearly isn’t your thing."
"I told you she’d hate it!" Rubby shouted from across the lounge.
Rubby was one of the pub’s waitresses, a twenty-four-year-old woman and Helena’s only friend there, along with Eddie. Helena waved at her before heading to the staff locker room. As expected that night, business quickly picked up. The lounge filled up, orders kept coming, and the live music carried the atmosphere.
Time passed faster than Helena expected. During a brief break, while organizing wine bottles behind the counter, her gaze was drawn to the pub’s dark window. Outside, a BSAA van was parked. Two uniformed agents, wearing sunglasses even at night, were watching the interior with excessive attention.
It was like that every single day.
They monitored Helena the same way they monitored Rose at school. It disgusted her. She had asked Chris countless times to demand more privacy for both of them, but he couldn’t go against direct orders from the BSAA director.
Even so, Helena told herself that this suffocation wouldn’t last forever. She already had her own plans.
Near the end of her shift, she changed clothes and quickly returned to the lounge, now almost empty. Eddie was sweeping the floor near the kitchen when he saw her pass by.
"So, what are you doing tomorrow?" he asked, curious.
"I’m picking Rose up from school and then heading to the shooting range," Helena replied, adjusting her jacket.
"And later?"
"I plan to get home, open a good bottle of wine, and read Shakespeare," she said without hesitation. "Why?"
Eddie cleared his throat.
"It’s just that… there’s a good movie playing at the theater. And, well… I kind of don’t have anyone to go with."
Helena smirked.
"Ask Rubby. I’ve got to go. See you."
She left before he could respond. Eddie stood there for a few seconds, watching Helena walk away down the lit street. Rubby appeared shortly after, pulling a pen from her apron pocket and adding another tally mark to an improvised scoreboard hidden behind a decorative painting in the pub.
"And with that… that makes eleven times Helena has turned you down," she commented, laughing.
"I’ll get it next time," Eddie insisted, still hopeful.
Rubby rolled her eyes.
"When are you going to accept that Helena is a lesbian?"
"How can you be so sure?"
"Oh, come on," she replied, putting the pen away. "It’s practically written ‘I hate men’ on her forehead."
Eddie ignored the comment and went back to sweeping, pretending he didn’t care, while Rubby laughed softly behind the counter.
***
The next day, Helena arrived at the school and honked to get Rose’s attention, who came out quickly. Knowing how anxious the girl was to visit her parents’ grave, Helena drove a little faster than usual.
"How was class?"
"The same as always." Rose sank into her seat, looking bored. "Tests piling up; preppy girls making fun of the way I dress, and teachers pretending nothing’s happening. And of course, a totally inconspicuous black van ‘sneaking’ past my window."
Helena smiled at Rose’s sarcasm, though she felt the weight behind it.
"Soon you’ll be in college, and things will be different," Helena said hopefully.
"If you say so. And your day?"
"Not much different from yours. Working in the city is exhausting, but soon I won’t have to wear myself out so much."
"What do you mean?"
Helena realized she hadn’t told Chris or Rose about the flyer. A few days earlier, on her way home after a stressful shift, she had stopped at a gas station about three kilometers outside the city. There were two reasons she liked that place: cheap fuel and aged wine — the owner had a small vineyard, and Helena was one of his most loyal customers.
On one of the corner poles, she had noticed a flyer fluttering in the late afternoon breeze. It read: the owner of a large estate in a village nearly an hour from the city was offering a housekeeper position with lodging and an excellent salary. There was also a contact number at the bottom.
Rose had once mentioned that when she came of age, she would love to live in the countryside. In a meadow surrounded by trees and flowers, with animals and a stable with three horses — one for her, one for Helena, and one for Chris. She longed for a peaceful life, far from urban noise and soldiers. A quiet life like her late parents, Ethan and Mia Winters, once had.
"I’ve been thinking about changing my life," Helena finally revealed. "Leaving the city."
"You’re leaving?" Rose asked, startled. "Leaving Chris and me forever?!"
"No, of course not!" Helena assured her. "I’ll visit on weekends and holidays. And you can visit me whenever you want." Rose still looked stunned, so Helena continued. "I’ve been stuck in this city for sixteen years, Rose. I’m tired of soldiers spying on me. I want to build something of my own; live beyond these buildings, have new experiences. I’m so grateful to Chris. He’s the kindest, most generous man I’ve ever known; I love him with all my heart. But he’s getting older, and he’s exhausted. I want to build a future for you and for me. Without demanding more from him. Chris has done enough for us — more than enough."
"When were you planning to tell me?"
"After I found out more about the job; it’s in a rural area that looks promising. They offer lodging, in a village I didn’t even know existed," Helena said, turning right. "It’s perfect. Outside the city, far from the BSAA. Remember when you said you dreamed about living in a house in the countryside? We can start investing in that now."
"Chris won’t let me move in with you — at least not now. And I don’t want you to leave, Hel," Rose said anxiously.
"I understand, sweetheart," Helena sighed. "This should’ve been discussed with Chris too. But know that I love you, and no matter the distance, I will always come back to you."
That reassured Rose — for now.
They stopped at the flower shop, and Rose bought the usual white roses for her parents. In silence, they drove to the cemetery, "Running Up That Hill" by Kate Bush playing softly on the radio. Helena knew how tense Rose became during these visits and gently squeezed her hand.
"Do you want me to go with you?" Helena asked as she parked.
"You don’t have to. I’ll just be ten minutes."
"Okay. I’ll wait here."
Rose got out and walked along the familiar path inside the cemetery, the same one she had taken countless times toward her parents’ grave. When she arrived, she placed the flowers beside the headstone, which read: "In memory of Ethan and Mia Winters — A kind couple and loving parents who put family above all else."
It was a ritual for Rose to share everything with them, as if they were still present: her day, school, her interactions with Chris and Helena. She never spared details, as if the transparency of her words could somehow keep them close, wherever they were. When she finished, she always whispered, "I love you," before turning away, her eyes wet with tears she could never quite hold back. She wiped them on her sleeve, as she had done since childhood, before returning to the car, not wanting Helena to notice.
Back on the road, now heading to the shooting range to meet Chris, Helena noticed how restless Rose still seemed. She knew she needed to cheer her up. An old trick came to mind — something that used to work when Rose was younger and feeling down.
"Don’t be like this, my love," Helena said softly. "Your parents wouldn’t want to see you like this, especially being such a beautiful girl."
"Hel, I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but… I’m not in the mood for compliments right now," Rose replied honestly.
"I’m just telling the truth. If I were one of your parents, I’d haunt you at midnight just to punish you for crying," Helena teased with a grin.
Rose gave a small smile, but it quickly faded. So Helena moved to "plan B."
"Oh, you’re going to keep that grumpy face?" Helena joked. "Then you leave me no choice."
She plugged a flash drive into the radio and skipped through a few songs until one in particular started playing. Rose immediately recognized the opening notes.
"Oh no! Hel, please turn that off!" Rose pleaded as "Pass the Dutchie" by Musical Youth filled the car.
"Pass the Dutchie, pon the left hand side! Pass the Dutchie…!" Helena began singing deliberately off-key as she turned up the volume.
"Helena, please! Anything but this!" Rose covered her ears dramatically.
"Give me the music, make me jump and prance! It a go dung!" Helena sang even more out of tune. "I’m only stopping if you sing with me!"
"No way!"
As she sang louder, Helena started poking Rose, tickling her while driving.
At that point, Rose couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst into uncontrollable laughter. Mission accomplished. Slowly, Rose joined in, singing the chorus, remembering how she used to do that as a child. Her voice always so high-pitched, Helena always beside her, singing and playing along. The moment transported them back to lighter times, when problems felt distant and joy was simple and contagious.
When they finally arrived at the shooting range, they found Chris already waiting for them at the entrance.
As they stepped out of the car, Helena looked at Rose, who was still smiling.
"Hey, can you keep what I told you earlier a secret?" Helena asked, fully trusting her.
"You know I’m great at keeping secrets," Rose replied conspiratorially.
And Helena knew that well. There were things about Rose — abilities she had — that even Chris didn’t know about. Only Helena had witnessed them. But Helena also knew that sooner or later, she would have to tell Chris about her plans to change her life. She just hoped he would support her. Otherwise, things could get complicated.