You walk, silent, enjoying the rain and the gray and the sounds of your footsteps on the leaves, trap after trap, all empty and ready to be set off. You had almost checked all of the traps, Brahms leading the way and somehow knowing where they all are, claiming to have talked to Jason about their locations and memorized them all. There were 3 more, Brahms said, and you began to talk about the day you'd found Norman after he'd stepped into a trap.

"That would be funny if it happened again!" you chuckled, and Brahms laughs lightly too,

"Don't jinx yourself, you know how unlucky you are." he said, rubbing circles into the cheek of his mask absent-mindedly as you walked. Almost as if Brahms had conjured it, a loud, metallic clang was quickly followed by a pained wail. Your gaze snapped to meet Brahms'. You shared no words as panic flared inside your chest. You had not been expecting to have to actually deal with people being caught in these traps. You had no idea what to do now.

***

"We have to check the trap!" Brahms' voice morphs into his childish one mid-sentence, his posture stiffening with worry. You nod at his words, knowing that was your only option. Sensing your fear, Brahms turned to you and smiled nervously. "I'll protect you, (Y/N)." he promised, then lifted his mask to secure it upon his face once more, taking a deep breath once he did. He let it out, seeming to be comforted by the sound of his breath against the porcelain, his fear vanishing. "I'll keep you safe, I promise." he says again in his child's voice, though it is firm and confident. The umbrella isn't held directly over the two of you as Brahms takes your hand and sets off towards the trap that set off, pointed slightly forwards so it doesn't catch in the wind and slow Brahms' huge, long, fast strides forwards. "It should be just up here." as soon as Brahms speaks you start to hear a panicked, pained whimpering, seeming to be male in sound but you weren't too sure. Brahms slows, holding out his arm to tell you to keep behind him. He closes the umbrella, holding it like a bat, prepped to swing at any teenagers trying to free their trapped friend or anything like that. You peered around him as he reached out a hand to push the ferns aside. Brahms let his guard down and so did you as you caught sight of one single person, trying to peel off the trap from their foot. They completely failed to notice yours and Brahms' approach until you misstepped, snapping a twig. The man and his curly brown hair whipped to face you, and you caught sight of his startling face.

The man broke out into a series of whimpers and wails as you took him in; framed by his curly brown hair was a mask, a mask made out of... skin? He wore a pale tan button-up underneath a yellow apron, his dark jeans stained with blood blooming from the wound in his leg due to the bear trap. Brahms turned to face you, silently asking what to do. You turned to him with a frown, not sure either. This poor... human-skin wearing man looked so scared and helpless. You knew Jason would kill him, but you couldn't shake the feeling that this was another Norman situation.

"Should we kill him?" Brahms asked with a tilt to his head, seeming almost as concerned as you. To accent Brahms' words the man let out a particularly loud whimper, scrambling away as much as his leg would allow him to and holding up his arms defensively. You take a few steps forwards, passing Brahms to stand closer to the trapped male, frowning. The man looked away from you and down to his leg, then frantically flicked his gaze around the clearing, most likely in search of an escape.

"I-I don't know." you stutter out and take another step forwards, the man's gaze flickering to you as he began to whimper and wail even louder, reaching for the trap and trying and trying to rip it away. His shouting blocked out all sounds, especially the loud, hurried, frantic footsteps nearing the clearing.

You had no idea anyone was even nearby until Brahms was letting out a shocked, pained cry and being thrown forwards by a shovel to the back of the head.

"BRAHMS!!" you cry as he's knocked out cold, falling forwards and hitting the ground at the trapped man's feet. His mask slides off of his face on impact, and you watch in horror as it splits in three large pieces. You peel your gaze away to settle on the newcomer, dread exploding in your stomach. He was huge, only a little smaller than Jason or Michael, with hair slightly darker than the trapped man's, shoulder length and tangled. Around his mouth and nose was a dark fabric bandana, his dark eyes illuminated with rage and fear. He wore a dirty red shirt and a beige apron, similar to his friend again. You guessed they were related. But that didn't matter as you stood like a deer in headlights, gaze locked with that of this man that had just knocked your defender out cold. The moment he bursts into action you let out a blood-curdling scream, stumbling backwards. You couldn't leave Brahms, he could be dying as you sat here screaming helplessly! Indecision raged as you turned and stumbled away to the edge of the clearing, glancing over your shoulder; as expected, the man was lumbering after you, covering ground quicker than you were. You needed to get home.

"Danny!!" you screamed, weaving around trees and ferns, hearing the footsteps of your pursuer. "Michael, Jason!!" you cry and cry, praying for someone to hear you. You throw a glance over your shoulder, the man inches from hitting distance, and bam, you run straight into something tall and sturdy. You tumble backwards, almost to the ground, and you would have if strong hands hadn't grabbed onto your shoulders and pried you away, shoving you behind them.

Relief washed over you at the sight of Jason, machete in hand, facing the man. Jason was injured, but otherwise much better equipped with a sharp, deadly weapon. He was also taller and sturdier, you knew who would win in this fight; so did the man. Only a heartbeat passed before he turned tail and sprinted back in the direction of his brother. Jason took off after him, and despite your lack of breath you followed behind, pushing yourself forwards. Brahms was out cold, you couldn't risk the same thing happening to Jason. Your lungs burned and screamed for air but you forced one leg in front of the other, hearing sounds of a struggle up ahead. You stumbled back into the clearing, Jason and the man locked in combat. Jason swung his machete and the man blocked it with his bat, pushing forwards to shove Jason a few feet away from the man's injured brother. You could tell that was all this man was trying to do; defend, just like Jason. Jason noticed this as well, and in a split second he was lunging for the trapped man, raising his machete and preparing to strike, making the free man stop dead.

"No, no don't!" the man shouted, his voice gruff and dripping with fear, almost as much fear as you. Jason didn't listen, he still swung.

"Jason, STOP!" that made him stop. Jason's machete was inches from the trapped man's face, said person cowering in fear and whimpering much quieter now, shaking his head and shivering intensely.

"It's okay, we're at a stalemate. We can be calm, alright? We don't have to hurt you guys!" you say, taking slow steps between the free man and the trapped man, towards Jason. You placed your hands on the side of Jason's machete, pushing it away from the trapped man. "We're okay, we're calm. We're not here to hurt you." you force your voice to be calm, turning to Brahms. He was shifting, trying to grasp onto consciousness. You kneel at his side, gently shaking him awake. "Brahms, Brahms wake up!" you whisper, the previously unconscious man letting out a groan and forcing himself up, onto his knees. "Are you okay?" you ask, brushing his shoulders and chest off as best as you can. Brahms squeezed his eyes shut, groaning again and pressing a hand to the back of his head. It was a miracle when it came back without blood coating it. Brahms looks at you, then Jason and the two new men, then it lands on his mask, broken. Rage explodes in his gaze, and he lunges towards the trapped man. You stop him just in time. "Brahms, no!" you demand, grabbing onto his arm. You were sure he wouldn't have listened if he hadn't dragged you with him, making you let out a shocked cry as you were dragged along. He flinched, pulling back and pulling you into his chest, hugging you tight.

"Are you alright?" he rushed out, and you nod, pulling away and connecting your gaze to his.

"It's okay, Brahms. You're safe, I'm safe. I can fix your mask." you say, still sensing the anger dripping off of him.

"What happened?" he asked, peering around you to glare at the two men.

"This man hit you with his bat, he knocked you out, but-" you move to block Brahms as he tries to lunge forwards again, "It's okay Brahms! We're not fighting anymore, okay?" Brahms glances at you, then back to the men, debating whether to listen or trust his instincts. At last he let out an annoyed huff, opting to pick up the pieces of his mask rather than attack. "Good." you sigh, turning back to Jason and the two men. The trapped man was still whimpering, shivering, frozen, and you felt bad for him. You frown, moving towards him without thinking and spurring the free man into motion. He had lunged towards you, Jason cutting him off and dropping his machete to the ground, fastening both now empty hands on the man's arms and preparing to deliver a vicious shove. "Woah, woah I'm sorry, Jason let him go!" you stumble backwards, holding up your hands, knowing you'd just scared the free man. Reluctant, Jason pulled away, looming over the free man.

"Don't touch him!" the free man growled, glaring at you then at Jason, Brahms standing angrily at your side. You nod, holding up your hands submissively.

"We have to get him out of the trap, we have someone at my house who can patch him up." you say calmly, knitting your brows in concern and holding the free man's gaze.

"No!" he spat, shaking his head, "I can take care of him just fine!" he glared back at Jason, still looming.

"Please, this is my fault, I want to make it up to you!" betraying the free man's strong, well-taken care of facade, his stomach let out a desperate rumble. Only then did you notice the cuts, scrapes and bruises all over his body; and his brothers. They had been injured before arriving here. You lower your hands. "You guys were hurt before coming here. Where do you live? At least let me help you guys get home safe." the free man shook his head, a flash of pain crossing his face; an emotional pain. Then it was gone, his anger returning.

"We don't need help. We can live on our own." he growls, his gaze returning to you and Brahms.

"You don't have a home, do you?" Brahms adds in, tilting his head. The child's voice is odd without the porcelain mask to go with it. The man shrinks into himself, then slowly, hesitantly shakes his head. You frown, and tilt your head.

"W-What happened...?" you ask quietly, and the man lets a growl rumble from his throat, most likely brought on by memories.

"A fire. We need to leave." his gaze moves to his brother who falls silent, staring from you to the free man with scared eyes through his human face mask.

"You need proper medical attention. Please, I have plenty of space in my home. You can stay with us like these two are. There are others, too... killers."

The free man's gaze sparks with interest.

"You... take care of them?" he asks quietly, and you nod. His gaze moves to Jason and his eyes spark with realization. He mutters something, and then turns to his brother, bleeding on the ground. He moves towards him and Jason steps in the way. You hold out a hand, nodding, signalling Jason to step away, and he does. "We're going to be alright, Bubba." he mumbles to his brother, Bubba, fastening his hands in the trap and opening it with practiced ease, as if he was experienced with traps like these. The brother doesn't make a sound as it opens, just wincing as it snaps free of his flesh.

"Jason, can you help him walk?" you ask, and the one you don't know the name of yet hugs Bubba close, hesitant until you flash him a gentle smile. "It's okay, you can trust Jason." Reluctant, the unnamed brother lets Jason haul Bubba to his feet with gentle movements, swinging an arm around his shoulder to support him. The unnamed brother does the same with his brother's other arm. "What's your name? Your... brother, he's Bubba, right?" the man nods, flicking his gaze at Brahms and Jason, still scared.

"T-Thomas. Thomas Hewitt." The name Hewitt is so familiar, and it hits you; one of the main suspects for the odd disappearances you'd been studying. Another criminal, just you luck. Not that you minded. No one else would nurture these poor souls. You nod, turning to Brahms before setting off.

"How's your head, Brahmsy?" you ask sympathetically, Brahms swaying gently on his feet.

"It hurts, (Y/N). A really awful headache." he whines back to you, staring at Thomas and Bubba with an equal mistrust to the way Thomas stared at him and Jason. You pat his chest comfortingly, and smile at him.

"I'll get Hannibal to take a look at you, too, okay?" you say, and Brahms nods. "Let's get home. This turned out to be... eventful. I need a break from all this chaos and blood." you chuckle, and lead the way with Brahms at your side. The walk home is slow and silent, the rain picking up a little and chilling you to the bone. Brahms, Jason, Thomas and Bubba were all shivering too, and you craved the dry, warm inside of your home. At last it came into view, and then you stepped out of the trees. The rain tripled in intensity without the cover of leaves, so you all tried your best to hurry forwards into shelter. The door was peeled open by Norman, the boy stepping aside so you could pass by. He seemed to know something was up; he or Hannibal had probably seen Jason leap from his bed at the sound of the trap, or your scream, or something.

"My, oh my." Hannibal muttered at the sight of you all. Thomas sat Bubba down on one of the dining chairs, staying glued to his side as Hannibal raced away for the medkit.

Danny thundered down the stairs, entering the room with a doubled-over Michael in tow, hand still on his wound as always, mask on his face.

"Woah, new guys!" Danny smiled, Thomas returning the exchange with a withering glare. Bubba somehow shrunk into himself further, overwhelmed by the new faces. Hannibal and his mind reading came to the rescue, knowing the two newcomers were overwhelmed.

"Everyone out, but (Y/N) and Brahms!" he shooed, ushering them away.

"Oh, come on, why does Brahms get to stay!" Danny whined, trying to push past Hannibal back into the room.

"Michael can stay too!" you call, turning to Brahms who was sitting on one of the other chairs, staring at his broken mask with a deep sorrow in his eyes.

"What! Michael?" Danny whined again as Michael was let in, hurrying to your side with his gaze glued to Thomas and Bubba. He glanced away for only a moment, spotting Brahms' mask instantly and understanding.

"Your mask." he said simply, and Brahms looked up at him, then directly down again in an attempt to hide his face. With a sigh, Michael held out his hands. "Give. I'll fix it." he says, reluctant and unimpressed. Brahms glances up at him again, tilting his head.

"Really?" he asks, and Michael nods curtly. Setting the porcelain down in Michael's large hands, Brahms stared down at his lap again, Michael leaving the room to get to work. Hannibal hurried back into the room with your medkit in his hand, ignoring Thomas' nervous protest as he pushed past him and knelt down in front of Bubba's bleeding leg. Jason came to hover at the doorway, wanting to respect Hannibal's wishing for privacy but still needing to have an eye on you. Thomas stands still as a statue, clenching and unclenching his fists as Hannibal got to work cleaning Bubba's leg. The injured man didn't seem to be in too much pain, he seemed like his whimpers and whines were drawn from fear. The opposite of Danny, Bubba must have a high tolerance for pain. You turn to Brahms, knowing Bubba would be well taken care of.

"Are you okay?" you ask with a concerned tilt to your head, learning a distant nod from Brahms. His eyes had an almost far-away look and he swayed from side to side.

"I feel a little ill." he says, trying to focus his eyes on you. You wouldn't be surprised if he had a concussion. "Are you alright?" he turns the question around and you nod.

"I'm okay, I'm not hurt. You took quite the hit to your head, and I'm sorry about your mask." Brahms shrugs at the mention of his mask though sadness returns to his emerald gaze.

"Michael can fix it, right? He asks, head lowered, looking up at you through his eyelashes. You take his hand, and nod,

"He can, I promise."

It takes almost 30 minutes to stitch up Bubba's leg and to get it cleaned and bandaged, as well as to check Brahms over and deduce he has a concussion that should heal in just a day or two. Hannibal said he was lucky he hadn't suffered from some sort of major brain trauma, and Brahms was happy that he'd be alright. Dr. Lecter also somehow smooth-talked his way into patching up Thomas, treating his cuts and bruises with cleaner and bandages. You had insisted that Thomas and Bubba got some rest afterwards, leading them into your well-lit basement towards the pull-out-couches in a spare seating room you rarely used. You also showed them to the shower, giving them towels and promising a set of clothes and a warm meal at least, in the case that they chose to leave after healing. Now, you were sat on the sofa with Brahms curled up at your side, Jason on the recliner and Danny asleep on the floor in a bundle of pillows. You had a movie playing, House of Wax, and all of the people huddled in the living room seemed just as involved with it as you. Just as Dolton, the slapstick humour of the movie, was decapitated, Michael walked in with a porcelain mask held gently in his hands.

Brahms sat right up from his position previously lying down, the winced and swayed at the headrush amplified by his concussion. Michael held out the mask, displaying the face; the three pieces had been glued back together with paint covering the seams, almost the exact same colour as the mask itself, only slightly paler. It reminded you of a scar, lighter than your flesh but still similar. Brahms let out a squeal, reaching to take the mask from Michael and tracing a finger along where it had broken. He tilted his head, and then flipped the mask and secured it on his face, turning to face you and Michael in search of approval.

"Does it look right?" he asked, his gaze settling on you, "Is it pretty?" he referenced your words regarding his real face from the forest, and you smile and nod, pausing your film.

"It looks great!" you smile, Jason nodding in agreement from across the room. Michael held out a thumbs up, and Brahms hopped to his feet, collapsing into Michael in a hug.