Disclaimer: I don't own The Hills Have Eyes.
Summary: She was the only one able to soothe the beast. At least, for now. HadesEthel, pre-movie, AU, oneshot. Gift for Berry's Ambitions.
Okay, so this is a new pairing for me to sink my grubby little fanfiction writing fingers into. I never would have thought about writing for Hades in a non-evil capacity, but there's something about this pairing that just...gets to me, I guess. I owe this new pairing obsession to my good, good friend Berry's Ambitions, who writes just some of the best fic ever about HHE (as well as other fandoms). So, this fic is for her. Hopefully, I do this pairing justice, since she has set the bar pretty high! Hope you enjoy this fic, girl! (hugs)
Balm
A roaring, horrible sound erupted from Hades' throat. The growling was thick, holding the same frequency as screeching metal. The mutant screamed and hefted a brittle, wooden chair from nearby and hurled it into the craggy walls of the mines. It shattered upon impact, splintering as if it were made of nothing but dry twigs.
Ethel stood in the doorway, eyes wide but not frightened, breath fast but not due to terror. She clasped her hands in front of her, knitting her fingers together just to have something to do.
It was not time yet, not time at all.
Again, screaming - enormously loud, punctuated with curse words and other barely discernable phrases. She supposed other women would wince, would turn their face from him in embarrasment and pity - and fear, she added, the most obvious deterrant.
Other women would try to submit to him, cater to his every whim to make him feel better. Which wouldn't work.
Other women just might try and fight him themselves, which really was a silly notion if Ethel had ever heard one. There weren't any men that could take on the young, strong Hades without dying, let alone a woman. She had seen Blair try, and fail, to do just this.
At this point, Ethel couldn't remember just exactly what had gotten Hades' temper so scorching. It didn't take much, she knew, especially not as of late. The thin line that separated the normal - which, to describe him, was a varying concept on most days - and the abnormal aspects of his character was stretched even further. The smallest of things could get to him, the most insignificant.
Though not frightened in the moment, not scared in the least of his terrible outburst and the constant threat of physical violence, Ethel was constantly frightened about Hades' future. Nothing else.
She didn't want to think about what this meant. About what it could possibly mean for him to be just so volatile. She hated to think that his grip on reality was slipping, that he was becoming something that belonged less to her and more to his own delusions.
And it was selfish, she knew, but she couldn't help herself.
Another chair bit the dust, followed by a table. The entire room was littered with piles of wood, dust forming a quickly thickening cloud around the place. Ethel stifled a cough, not wanting Hades to recognize her presence just yet. Let him get out this frustration, let him take out his anger on these inanimate objects. And then she could make her move.
Hades' voice punctuated the air again. Inhuman and frightening. It was enough to get the hair on Ethel's neck to stand on end, but she did not move. She did not waver.
He was out of breath, but still enraged, standing amongst the rubble. For a moment, he looked rather beautiful, standing there amongst the chaos, the last thing intact in a room full of debris. A survivor of his own wrath.
At least, for now.
She could tell he was still angry. That his destruction had done nothing to quell the boiling rage within him. His fists were clenched, and she could see the bulging veins of his hands even beneath the tanned skin.
This was her opening.
Ethel stepped away from the doorframe and into the fray.
"Hades," she spoke, her voice sweet and soft.
He did not jolt, did not do anything to show that she had startled him. Because she hadn't, she knew. Though blinded by his fury, he still was aware of her presence near him during his outburst. She wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse. The fact that he hadn't turned on her was a miracle in and of itself.
Hades said nothing. There was a growling coming from his chest, constant, like the buzz of bees. His hands were bleeding. There was nothing left to destroy, and his anger was still there, festering like bacteria in a wound.
Ethel approached him, her feet making no sound as she closed the distance between them.
She touched his shoulder. "Hades."
He jerked away from her, snarling. Ethel tried her best not to flinch.
"It's me, Hades."
There was a bitter chuckle - if she could call it that - that erupted from his chest, breaking up the growls.
"I know," he replied, as if she were stupid for even saying that.
Ethel placed her hand on his shoulder again. This time he did not jerk away from her, but he was far from relaxed.
"You're okay," she cooed. He still would not look at her. She tried to move around so that he would look her in the eyes, but no dice.
Eventually, she grasped his head between her hands. If anyone else who lived in the mines were to witness this moment, they would be in shock that the ferocious Hades was allowing this. In fact, sometimes, it still shocked Ethel herself that she was allowed to be so near to him, to touch him in this way.
"Look at me," she commanded.
His eyes focused on her after a while - his own kind of protest, she guessed - and they were still so, so angry that it made Ethel's chest clench. But not in fear.
In sorrow.
"You're okay," she reassured. "You're okay."
Hades growled. "You..."
His large hands encircled her wrists.
"You..."
She was sure he could feel the pulse in her wrists. Bounding, fierce, fueled by adrenaline.
Ethel leaned forward. Her chest felt as if it were going to explode. She clinked her forehead against his.
His breathing was coming out fast, labored almost. But he did not pull away from her, like he had in the past.
"You're okay."
The growling turned into humming.
"You're okay."
Hades let out a large breath.
"You're okay."
Repeating this mantra over and over again, soft like a prayer, she found herself hoping that her words remain true.
Ethel would be frightened to imagine a world in which they do not.
End.