Summary: A different take on the end of 'F.E.A.R 2: Project Origin'. Rough one-shot. My first.

Disclaimer: don't own anything, don't profit from anything, leave me to my dark, confused, insane, solitude.

A.N I am a disturbed person, F.E.A.R is a disturbing story if you don't like Alma, in any capacity, this is not a fic for you. Take it how it is. It is strange and obsessive. This is FEAR, a happy-ish ending but its still FEAR nonetheless, and its heavy stuff. Some of you maybe used to it, some of you won't.

You have been warned

The fire blasted hell howled its mournful call around us, a maelstrom of her pain. My hold on the handgun was like iron.

"NO! She's MINE! She must be MINE!"

Keegan, mad, his finger on the trigger. All the rage, calculated and aimed, I suppose I knew what he felt. All the rage… her rage… she has haunted me… hunted… coveted… I've witnessed her power and felt the horror of it. Most of my squad has been torn apart by it. But for L.T… a round to the chest did her in. I can't bring myself to think of Aristide… if I do I'll lose it. Think I already have.

She's so close. I can feel her presence on me. Intoxicating, overwhelming. My heart thudded in my chest. And I got another flash. She was there. Atop me, beating my chest, gripping my fatigues, screaming, I wanted her to stop. I didn't feel the pain but… it was indescribable.

After all that has happened… I… I don't know what to think anymore… the duality of the situation catching up, it's a simple solution; deal with one problem first. The gun changes direction, horror, terror, it blooms on his face. My cold glare meets his, as my face remains passive even as I prepare to blow his head off.

"To fucking hell with you!"

I spat out into his shifting deformed visage as I force off a round. We're close enough, I mused, he might get there. He disappeared into ash and I pulled the last lever. I do what I have to do… I suppose its necessity. She'll have the world burn if I don't… but… I can't help it… I feel so sorry for her… given what I know, and even as my knowledge is limited… what she has been put through… she's not the monster… she's the victim of it. Science, ambition, selfishness. Take your pick of human flaws and she's been scarred by them. Its dark now… lights, the inside of the amplifier. And… it's working.

She's here. With me… hiding herself. Throwing something together, to show me… I don't know what… I don't care. One of the restraints is loose, Stokes didn't get around to fastening it properly. Slowly, calmly, I remove my hand from it… my movements are slow… I don't want to alarm her. Rather than take it to my other restraint to release myself, my arm circles something… her… I close my eyes. I know she's there. She knows she's been found out. Psychic entity or no, there is a limit to how much she can bend reality, and right now, trapped with me, there is only so much she can convince my mind to believe.

She doesn't want to be seen. But I know she's there. And that to me is all that matters. The lights flicker on for a moment before it goes dark again. I can feel her tensing, waiting to release something… I don't give her the chance. My eyes open.


I whisper, calling to her. She freezes. My arm pulls tighter. No headache, no hallucination, just darkness, as the small blue laser lights flicker around me. I don't know what I'm expecting, frankly I don't care anymore. If she's done anything to me; it's desensitise. However, it's not apathy, it's a singular goal now, she... whether she meant to or not, has given me the ability to focus… on her.


I whisper again. She shivers. I still can't see her. I don't know how to convey the message, it's… complicated. From the first time I laid eyes on the mission dossier and was briefed in the Blackhawk of the new assignment… I suppose we'd developed a strange relationship. What kind? Give me a break, I'm a soldier not a philosopher or psychiatrist, though with the amount of waxing poetics I'm dreaming up I probably could hand off enough bullshit to be one.

I suppose if I had to take a stab in the dark; a hunter-prey relationship, and for once, the firearms, training, and the physic I possessed didn't make me the predator. Did she… love me? I didn't know, and… this time I couldn't bring myself to not care. Just the thought provoked numerous reactions, do you want me to list them? Note to self; psychiatric ward, now! Reach for the gun at my waist and get real friendly with it. Never been afraid of heights, just the sudden stop at the bottom, time to ensure it was well founded.

She was obsessive, and I was something she found desirable, again I didn't want to think of in what way. Then again… God! Freud would have a ball with me. What did I want? What did I feel? So… what was Alma to me? A force of destruction, a mission objective, target? I searched for a word for it and couldn't find one. I gave up, closed my eyes, let out a breath, relaxed and let myself feel

I heard her gasp, echoing, resonant. I felt weight now, on my lap, conscious of it. I pulled, and she fell, flush against me. Bare, shivering, unsure. It was complicated, she wanted me… in what capacity? I still don't know… but I'm sure if she wanted me dead, she's had an abundance of opportunities to carry out that will. But those opportunities haven't been taken and even now, I know I am vulnerable. But I don't care.

My eyes opened, my nose and rough shaven chin itched slightly with the feather light brush of her raven hair. I could see her, my arm winds around the small of her back as she sat astride me. My gloved hand crept up and reached her shoulder blades. She shivered. My fingers lace themselves through her hair and cradled her neck.

My eyes slid closed, and for the strangest of reasons, in my confused, and broken reasoning, I felt hope, a subconscious optimism in her, should I think of it; 'recovery'? I didn't know if it was possible. I let out a long suffering sigh, and she breathed with me. Maybe there would not be one to hope for, maybe this was my reprieve, my last moment of lucidity before she ripped my sanity away altogether. What did confound me even further was a contentedness that washed over me. I presume its acceptance.

I held my fear close, cradling her scared, scarred form to me, and I wasn't afraid. It was strange, a level of understanding. She wanted me, and now she had me. For all the past hours of pursuit, I guessed she had prepared for me to go down fighting. The reckoning of conflicting expectancies and now a realisation that she didn't have to fight to get me… it threw her off balance. I felt her hand trail down my left arm, to the restraint. The strap frayed and my watch face cracked.

I enveloped her, held her tight, and made a solemn promise to not let go. I think she heard me. She drew back and looked at me. No cracked skin, no empty eye sockets. Just smooth, pure skin, the eyes of a child looking at me. I brought my right hand around to brush her cheek, she seemed confused. I closed my eyes and brought her close "I see you." I affirmed. She gave out a sob, relieved… and I dared to hope; happy.

She was impulsive, I should know that more than anyone. I could die in the next few seconds, but if I was to do so… I wanted her to have happiness, something she'd had far too little in her life. She clung to me, and I held her close.


she spoke… whispered, insecure, an echoing mix between her slightly deeper teenage voice with her lighter child tone.


I hushed her gently.

"I know…"

I whispered. I know… she loves me. I don't understand it, I don't want to. Here I was, an unknown soldier, Delta pending F.E.A.R operative until I was redirected to retrieve Aristide. Normal… until I was laid out on an operating table and given the Diodes. Then I became a psychic beacon for her, she found me intriguing, and… her feelings developed, however sporadically, this is what they were now, and I found myself in this position… accepting them.

It was simplistic, it didn't need over analysis, it wasn't a twisted affection, a need to consume like 'snake fist' and indeed all of us had feared, I was different from the others, Keegan, Fox… out of all of them, I was the most receptive, the most successful Harbinger Subject, Paragon. My purpose… I grew cold, Necessity. I unconsciously held her tighter, possessively

… Not anymore…

I'm nobody's pawn, not Aristide, not Armacham. She leaned closer, resting her head in the crook of my shoulder, nuzzling. Was she doing this to me? Was I nothing more than a puppet? Was I her pawn? Don't know, and once again, I can't bring myself to care.

'Can… can I-'

she started shyly. It was my turn to shiver, she was compulsive and now I doubt she even meant to be so. I waited, relaxed, rubbing soothing circles over her naked back,

'Can I keep you?'

I think she already knew the answer to that one.