There's a Seat Here Alongside Me
Rating: PG-13/T
Genre: Drama/Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Friendship
Summary: For the hc_bingo prompt "Minor Illness". "We are all in the same boat in a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty." G.K. Chesterton. Travis picks up a hitchhiker outside of Silent Hill.
Author's Note: YAAAAAAAAY I WROTE MURPHY. AND I WROTE TRAVIS. MY TWO FAVORITES. :D
Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Hill. It belongs to Konami/Vatra. The title comes from the song "Roads Untraveled" by Linkin Park.
-1-
Travis still drives by Silent Hill every now and then.
It's not that he thinks he'd go through hell again if he went back. It's not as if he's under the impression that… She wants him back. All the same, Travis always makes sure he has enough gas, enough oil, the tires are in one piece and full of air, the windshield isn't cracked, no bird nests in the tail-pipe or whatever sort of fuckery might give him cause to make a pit-stop in that town.
He will take no chances. Not when all he escaped by the last time was the skin of his teeth.
-2-
Travis picks up hitchhikers.
He figures that he's intimidating enough in appearance that any punks are going to think twice about screwing with him, and that's all he cares about. If someone thinks twice about getting in with him, like that wisp of a girl with brown hair and a bruise on her neck, he pulls over and lets them out whenever they ask him to. No problem.
Travis has never encountered a hitchhiker so close to Silent Hill before. The last time he picked up or dropped off a hitchhiker in this area was that young solider four years back on his way home to Shepherd's Glen. He could remember driving by the lake and seeing Silent Hill across it.
He picked up a little more speed than was perhaps safe and got back to his route without looking back.
-3-
He's close to Silent Hill.
It rained last night, and the road is foggy.
Travis clenches the wheel a little tighter than normal and keeps the radio on, listening for anymore static than is normal.
-4-
The fog breaks, and there's a man on the road.
The combination of factors tempts Travis to keep right on driving, maybe putting the pedal to the metal and pretending he doesn't see the guy at all. Just keep on trucking, Travis, and don't take the risk, because this is the kind of shit that led to your stint in the level just slightly above Hell, just because you had to be a good-goddamn-Samaritan-
He catches a surprisingly good look at the man's face: He looks cold, miserable, and maybe a little under the weather.
…Damn it.
He brings the rig to a halt, and the man slows to a stop as well. Travis leans out the window and calls: "Need a ride, son?"
The man- he's in his early thirties, rusty-colored hair, unshaven, a large, ratty-looking jacket over his shoulder and generally covered in mud- eyes Travis like a rabbit might eye a half-dead fox: Probably not a threat, but not quite willing to take any chances. He sniffs, and oh yeah, he definitely isn't doing well. "Don't want to be any trouble to you." He says, and his voice is scratchy.
Travis looks him in the eyes, really looks, and sees a tiredness there that he remembers seeing in his own eyes when he looked into the rearview of his truck thirty-six years before. "You coming from Silent Hill?" He asks before he can stop himself.
The man's face is impassive. He sniffs again. "Yeah."
And Travis knows.
He turns away for a moment, shuts his eyes. Please don't let me regret this.
"Get in, kid."
-5-
"Name's Travis."
"Murphy."
They give a brief handshake, and are then silent for the next three hours.
-6-
Travis had been avoiding Silent Hill physically, but mentally it was never too far away.
He made a point of keeping an eye on any unusual news about the town, and hell if he was disappointed: Disappearances were the biggest occurrence, followed by the scandal with that orphanage (Hell, if they were willing to burn a seven year-old girl alive, Travis can absolutely believe that those crazy motherfuckers would abuse children on a general basis), and occasionally a body that, with a little light research, traces back to the Order in one way or another.
Point is, he knows that stuff is still going on there. He's not crazy or masochistic enough to go investigating beyond a few Google searches, but Travis knows that that town is every bit the field full of mind-fucks that it was when he took a merry stroll through it.
Murphy is proof.
Travis doesn't care if the man hasn't said a thing besides his name; he saw the tiredness in his eyes first, and now he can just feel it. It's like they're two rivers and someone's dug a canal to connect them, because they just get each other now. Travis can tell that Murphy has Been There, and Murphy apparently feels safe enough to fall asleep; something that Travis had trouble doing for at least a month after his Silent Hill experience.
They've both been there. They've both seen the things that place has to offer. They both know Hell. So Travis guesses that they're friends now.
He'll have to let the guy he's known for less than a day know that once he wakes up.
-7-
Murphy starts coughing.
Travis finally forces himself to break the calm silence to address it. "That doesn't sound very good. You need a doctor?"
Every line of Murphy's body goes tense, and panic flashes in his eyes before that perfect poker-face is back. "I'll live."
"Don't like doctors?" Murphy shrugs, shuts his eyes and seems to go back to sleep. Every now and then, he'll let out a stuttered cough that sounds like so much gunk rattling around in his lungs, and Travis winces. It's the kind of cough that sounds like it could turn into bronchitis.
He's already making plans to pull into the next convenience store available and pick up some cough medicine for the guy when Travis suddenly notices something odd, something he'd failed to notice before: Murphy's pants are muddy, but what little of the unsullied cloth Travis can see is… Orange. The left leg is blank, but the on the right Travis can kind of see large, blocky black lettering.
That's an unusual fashion choice. Where have I seen pants like that before…?
The first thing- that also happens to be the most likely answer- that jumps to mind makes Travis's head hurt.
God damn it, I picked up a felon.
-8-
Murphy seems to think he's getting kicked off when they pull to a stop, and starts to get out of the cab.
"Going somewhere?" Travis inquires, and Murphy looks at him.
"Can't stay on forever."
Travis rolls his eyes and motions for Murphy to shut the door. "Unless you need a bathroom break, stay the hell where you are. The only place I'd even consider leaving you at is a hospital." Murphy cocks an eyebrow at him, but hops out anyway.
"Bathroom break, then." He mutters, and Travis really hopes that he actually comes back. But then, if he needs to track him down, all he has to do is listen for that cough.
In the store, Travis picks out a bottle of Nyquil and a box of saltine crackers. He looks around to see if there are any sweatshirts or sweatpants for sale like some stores do, but Travis doesn't see any. He really, really hopes that no one else notices Murphy's pants, else he's going back to prison for whatever he did, and Travis is getting put away for harboring a fugitive.
If Murphy really did go to the bathroom instead of running, that is.
When Travis returns to the truck, he sees Murphy in the passenger's seat. He sees the younger man coughing into his hand, back heaving with the effort of it. He's bent in half and breathing raggedly when Travis climbs into the cab.
After a minute, Travis gives his arm a little nudge and proffers the medicine and crackers to Murphy, who accepts with a choked noise that Travis assumes is an attempt at 'Thank you'.
-9-
They stop at a motel for the night.
Travis is well-trained in the art of driving for uninterrupted amounts of time that would be inconceivable to others, but he needs a break. Murphy looks like he could use a horizontal surface to sleep on as well. The Nyquil worked well-enough that the worst he had was the occasional soft cough every now and then, but for the most part Murphy seemed to be breathing easier.
Travis still isn't 100% certain about what he's going to do once he finishes the route. He can't just leave Murphy out in the cold (If he had sleeping problems before, he'd be up to his neck in them from guilt then), but knows that he is both- again- harboring a fugitive and dealing with someone who probably has all kinds of things wrong in his head after visiting that horror-show of a freak-town.
Murphy drops onto the second bed like a sack of rocks, and the second shot of Nyquil he'd taken must have worked, because he doesn't cough. He doesn't really move either, and that's slightly worrisome; convicted felon with psychological issues that may also require medical attention. God, the shit Travis got into for trying to be a good guy.
Travis shuts off the light and gets into the other bed.
Sleep is not going to happen easily. I'd put good money on it.
-10-
After an hour, Travis gives up.
"You asleep?"
A pause. "No."
Travis waits, considers, and then really gives up.
"You want to hear about how I know you've been through Silent Hill, otherwise known as the ninth circle of Hell?"
It's a reminder of how close the trauma is for Murphy, because from the silence that follows he sounds very close to curling up into a ball with his hands over his ears. Travis wouldn't blame him in the slightest.
It's a testament to his grit when he says "Yes."
-End