I've recently started playing Silent Hill 2, and when I got to the part where James first encounters Maria, I thought about writing for the pairing. And then, I reached the prison cell scene ("Don't you want to touch me?"), and all doubts escaped me. I knew I had to conjure up something concerning them (-cough- sex. Very rough sex). I have yet to finish the game, so if something more happens between them, I have no knowledge of it. I just enjoy the thought of it.
I decided to toy with the idea of Maria being alive when James comes back to the cell for her. I tried making it seem like Maria takes James over, sort of resembling how consumed he is by the need to find Mary. But, like it almost always seems, he's oblivious to the fact. And he goes a little nutty. :P I also didn't go into a lot of detail during the sex scene. I think it's better, in this story's case at least, to leave things to the imagination.
I hope I don't screw this up too badly. :P

He walked into the isolated cell, and was immediately greeted by Maria's sitting figure on the bed, leaning back against the wall. She was absentmindedly holding her hand in front of her, examining her fingers and nails. He had no idea how she could've seen anything, even if said thing was blocking her line of vision. It was so dark. But then he had stumbled inside, tiny flashlight illuminating her whole body. She turned her head, saw that it was him, James, and instantly sprang up like a panther about to attack its prey. A slow smile spread across her face. She sauntered toward him, languidly and strategically; her gait resembled her smile.

"Oh, James," Maria purred. "I thought you'd never come back. I was starting to get... lonely." She set her palm on his shoulder and quickly moved it down his back, pushing him closer. He almost tripped over himself. He started to laugh nervously.

"Ummm..." James awkwardly and stupidly stated. It was all he could manage. He didn't know if it was because he was insanely attracted to this woman or if he was repelled by her and didn't know how to tell her. In either case, he believed their... "relationship," or whatever they shared, to be uncouth. And untimely.

James scratched the back of his head as he stared at Maria. She looked so much like Mary. Exactly like her. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the absurdity of it.

"What's the matter?" Maria asked. "Cat got your tongue?"

James cleared his throat. But he still couldn't get the words out.

What words?

"Don't you want to touch me?" Maria repeated her question from earlier. She flashed him a crooked grin and began stroking his hair.

"I... I... Mary. I can't. Mary is here somewhere. I have to find her. Mary-"

"Who's Mary? I'm Maria," Maria interrupted. She gazed intensely into James' eyes, and he found himself looking back into hers. He had the intention of answering her- telling her about his beautiful wife. He learned to take most questions seriously, including some of the rhetorical, since his were never answered. He decided to give others the luxury of having their uncertainties clarified, if directed toward him, because it gave him a sense of belonging- a sense of power.

James also realized that this "town" they were in made people a little forgetful. So answering everything was almost a guarantee, when he was involved at least, no matter how many times asked or voiced. But before he could clear the air, so to speak, he felt Maria's lips upon his own. His eyes went wide and his arms seemed to have a mind of their own as they flailed about for a couple of seconds, not knowing what to do with them. But then he wrapped his arms around her and gradually shut his eyes, gaining composure (What composure?). His brain suddenly and unexpectedly started running on autopilot as he left a trail of soft kisses down Maria's neck. She moaned as he began unbuttoning her shirt. He tenderly kissed her sternum, at the same time, caressing her protected breast, still hidden beneath her bra. This was what Mary liked, and she very rarely wanted to break routine.

Fingers abruptly coiled around James' wrist, sending him back into reality (Was this reality?). He glanced up to find Maria- not Mary. Maria used her other hand to seize his chin and bring him up to eye level. James was discomfited. Had he not been kissing Mary? God, this place could make a person fly off the deep end, into scum.

"I don't want to make love. Too... what's the word? Cliché," Maria broke into his thoughts. She then leaned in and roughly whispered into his ear, "I'd rather fuck."

Maria used the hand she had gripped his chin with and shoved it down his pants. Then she took his wrist that she still held and forced his hand down her skirt. "C'mon, James. Fuck me as hard as you can. You know you want to." She passionately bit her lower lip, trying so hard. She was too hot and bothered to care how desperate she may have seemed. She had no idea why, but she had wanted him from the first moment she had laid eyes on him. She wanted him like she had never wanted any man before, or woman for that matter. "Take advantage of me," she breathed.

James couldn't move for what seemed like hours. He was transfixed by the determined look in Maria's eyes. He could've sworn he saw Mary swimming around in her irises, her pupils, trapped. Oblivious to the fact that someone's hand was down his pants and that his own was down their skirt, he took Maria's face in his free hand and forced her to be even closer to him. All he could see was lust. This wasn't Mary. This was Maria. Why couldn't he get that through his thick skull?

"What are you waiting for, big boy? Your wife? I could be her, if you want. I could be anyone in the whole wide world," Maria offered.

James searched her. For what, he couldn't say. He couldn't seem to explain anything nowadays. Maybe there wasn't meant to be an explanation. Maybe he was supposed to just do. That was the only rational explanation for what he did next.

Taking his hand from deep within the confines of Maria's panties as well as her hand from his underwear, James pushed her against the bars of the cell. He was stiff now as he thought about what he was going to do. Or lack of thought, per say.

"You want it rough, eh? I'll show you rough, Maria," James growled. He had no idea what was going on. He felt like a completely different person.

But Maria seemed to enjoy it. It was almost as if she wanted this to happen- as if she were expecting it.

She reached out to touch him, but James snatched her wrist, bending it backward just enough so she could feel pain. His impetuous movement caused something to snap in his mind. He saw Maria as simply another obstacle he had to overcome in order to find out what happened to his beloved.

His beloved that resembled the woman standing before him.

No. Wait. The other way around.

James was consumed by this raw need- this passion. If he continued to partake in this fleshy temptation, this carnal hunger, this complex dream, this attractive nightmare, he was convinced that his Mary would soon be revealed. He would have a reason, a purpose, for being here.

This is all for you, Mary.
I love you.

Maria yelped in agony and in pleasure as James prolonged forcing her wrist the opposite way. He held a blank expression; his mind was clear. He slammed her hand against the bars of the cell, clasped a tuft of her hair with his other hand, leaving a clearing on her neck as he focused on that particular part of her body. He proceeded to suck on her flesh which, in turn, elicited a moan from Maria. Then he bit into her salty exterior. He felt hot liquid on the tip of his tongue. Iron clogged his taste buds. James could feel Maria panting. He let go of her hair and her wrist, only to trap her completely by absorbing her with his arms as they wound themselves around her back. He held on to her tightly; her hair collapsed over the nape of his neck. It was a hundred tiny thorns covering his skin; sunlight burning through his esophagus.

James brusquely unhooked himself from Maria. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Maria was gasping for air as she crumpled to the ground. She was changing. Maria. Mary. Something dark. Maria. Mary. Monster.

When will this end?

James closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw dots, bright lights, everywhere.

He was changing. If only for a moment.

Maria slowly stood back up. She started to laugh. At least, James thought he heard her laughing. Saw her laughing.

He wanted Mary back. Where was she? Would he ever find her? Would he ever know?

"James!" Maria exclaimed. But she wasn't Maria. She was Mary.

"I'm waiting, James. Can't you see that? Waiting for you, James. Come! Get me out of here! Get me out of this whore!"

No no no no no. Mary wouldn't say that about another person. She was a kind, gentle soul. Wouldn't hurt a fly.

James vigorously rubbed his temples. He paced the length of the cell at least a thousand times.

He was fine a few minutes ago. He was fine when he got to this place. This "special" place.
Why couldn't he wake up? Just wake up, wake up... He'll find Mary, next to him. He'll find her somehow, some way.

Fingers interrupted him. Fingers that dug into his shoulders. Fingers that tried.

"James, what's wrong? Why won't you look at me?" Maria questioned, stopping him from behind. James turned around, only to see Maria drenched, drowning, drooling blood. He shook his head violently and then looked at her again. She was fine.

It was all fine.

"I thought we were doin' pretty well back there. Why'd ya stop? We haven't truly begun, you know." Maria pushed him onto the only chair inside the cell. It was like she didn't even care that she just had a chunk taken out of her neck. Between James' hallucinations and her mood swings, there was no telling how the next few minutes were going to pan out.

Slight tugging on James' pants. He glanced down, dizzy. He felt teeth. Molars. Incisors. Cuspids. Tongue. Wet. Explosion. Everything. How was he feeling? Numbness everywhere else. But not there. There, it was hard and warm and, and... good. So good.

He wanted more.

James' mind was disturbingly void. Void of the world. Finally, he got to choose. He was able to choose when it would start and when it would end. It wouldn't be taken from him. It wouldn't be tampered and toyed with. It would be... fair.

James had had enough. He shook Maria from him. Off of him. Away. He hurled her onto the bed she had been sitting on earlier. Made sure she was flat on her stomach. Teared her skirt off. Clawed at her underwear. Rammed it into her over and over and over. No words were spoken. He just did. She gasped and he grunted. He enjoyed the simple sound of silence. Two bodies heaving, writhing, wriggling. James yanked on her hair while he rode her back side. Her skin felt smooth against their rough movements.

These violent tendencies.

James bent over and licked the sweat from Maria's spine. It tasted good. (So good.) He traced his thumb over the path his tongue had made. His own sweat drip dropped onto her back- mixing, mixing, swirling. James let go of her only to flip her over the other way. Maria's forehead shone underneath the flashlight that took comfort in his breast pocket. She was grinning from ear to ear. He found himself grinning back.

"Take advantage of me," Maria whispered once more. She ran her index finger down James' torso, concealed by his shirt and jacket. Not yet.

James stuck his finger inside of her. He controlled it at first, but then he couldn't contain himself. He went as fast as he could. The noises Maria were making sounded delicious. He moved down only when she started to drizzle, drip drop. He gnawed on her tender flesh, tender sex. She came sooner than expected. She bucked her hips. She latched onto his head, messed it up, fingers tangled in hair, urging, begging, pleading. Harder, faster. Beautiful.

Perfection came later.

Now, perhaps?

Maria wanted him to give in. Give in to the fantasy she was holding out to him so gracefully, so graciously. Sweet poison. James wanted it, and he took it. He pushed forward, ended up in a tunnel. A tunnel of beauty and pain; sex and mutilation; truth and lies. There was no fighting this kind of power. He was facing himself- facing his fears. But also his desires.

They lasted and lasted. Everything around them faded and faded. Didn't they realize how much danger they were in? How much danger wanted, needed them?

No no no no no.

There may have been monsters on the outside, but what they failed to understand was they were monsters themselves. Inside. The beasts roaming about out there had the courage to reveal their true colors. They didn't have a choice, really. Nothing was safe from the imagination- the hallucination; the nightmare. The demons on the inside, however, had a choice.

And they chose wrong.

And someday, they will.

Pay.