Early 2008
Toluca Lake, Northern side
A ripple in the water was all that betrayed the addition of another tragedy to the bottom of the lake's depths. Somewhere out on the lake screams might've been heard - sobs and broken cries of anguish, the repetitious shouts of a name. Soon those sounds would be taken from the lake, moved onward to other places, but they would not be silenced.
Something stirred in the trees - the wind seemed to crave a new direction, before it stopped and was no more. Not a sound was made but for the echo of agony from the lake. The world seemed to change, a shift on its axis, a different scent on the air. Colors darkened and seeped into one another.
Something was wrong.
Further away, out of range of the horrifying screams, in the shadow of Silent Hill, those with power felt the change and were satisfied. The time had come for the town's borders to grow; a time for glorious victory in the name of God, against those who had forsaken the true way.
It was time for a homecoming.
The glare of sunlight over the world seemed dull despite how high it was in the sky. Through the gaps between the fingers on her raised hand, Heather stared up, fascinated.
she stood in the enter of the Ashfield Heights courtyard, dressed in a baggy green hoodie and dirty light-blue jeans. Her feet were bare despite the chilling cold. Behind her, seated on the wall, Henry Townshend sat reading, though he spared a few quick glances to Heather every few minutes. He set the book in his lap when he could fight his curiosity no longer. "What are you doing?"
The young woman flexed her naked toes against the freezing stone. "Taking it all in - the great big sky," She explained, stretching a second arm up. "Even when i wasn't living near Silent Hill, I never really lived in a place where you could see it like this." With that admittance, she dropped both arms heavily, staring without hesitation at the burning ball of gas.
Henry watched her, eyes scanning her strange appearance, before he stood, closing the book. "How's all that going?" He asked tentatively. "Any news?"
Heather lowered her eyes and turned her head to him, impassive. "The wind is tinged with darkness when it flies over Toluca Lake. Trees shudder as I pass; a boy calls me but I am too far to hear him well." Her gaze moved to the distance, likely gazing out towards where the town stood, far away. "But I cannot move closer, not as I am now."
The man nodded, quite used to Heather's mystery and ambiguity, so he took from the message what was needed - something was up, but nothing could be done yet.
Henry turned back to the complex. "Well, whenever you're ready... so am I." He reentered the building and did not see the confident smile fixed on Heather's face.
"I know. I will be counting on you, dear Receiver."
It was still a bit strange to enter Ashfield Heights and be faced with so many... well, faces. Well over 20 ghosts now called the Heights their haunt, their refuge from the madness outside the walls. The halls of the complex were always echoing with noise, conversations and footsteps, and few of the faces he passed ever held anything besides a smile. They all had their scars, their wounds to keep, but most of them were moving on. It helped to have others who had suffered the same nightmare.
Even Angela was making a bit of progress, though she was never left in a room alone with any man, and was hardly ever seen without Eileen, Cynthia, or Henry. To the man's shock, the broken young woman had become attached to him, perhaps because their wounds were morosely similar. Still very shy, and very depressed, she was still a lot better than she had been - and she was one of the only living people to call the apartment home.
The other was a recent arrival - a young girl named Laura. She was apparently James' adopted daughter, a living girl who had refused all attempts to send her back to the world of the living. None of the ghosts in the apartments thought it was good for the girl to waste her life with a bunch of dead people, but she refused to listen. Eventually they gave in to the hard headed girl, if only because Heather told them Laura had been touched by Silent Hill, and thus would never be normal again. Better for her to be with those like her, than lost in the outside world.
James did seem glad to have the girl around - he just wasn't very good at expressing it. In fact, he seemed emotionally stunted from his past experiences, of which Henry knew little. He had spoken to the man a good deal since his arrival, but James was very tight lipped.
Henry smirked a bit at the thought; he had, in a way, become the "shrink" of the complex. He was a good listener, an empathetic and insightful person, who cared enough to check on all the ghosts and make sure they were doing all right. At least, that was how Walter put it.
A dark blush came to Henry's face at the thought of Walter suddenly. The smirk became a grin. Ever since their devastating fall out and passionate reunion from a few weeks prior, the two had become closer than ever, and Walter had been very keen about making it up to Henry. He was a more attentive, more protective, and more active part of their relationship, and the two had made great progress together... in all manners of things.
They hadn't done... it yet. Henry's grin faltered, but his blush grew. They'd danced around the topic, and they'd experienced bliss and release in each other's arms plenty of times. But they'd yet to go all the way. With everything that had been going on, it just hadn't happened. They'd been distracted, and at times distant. Though, now that he thought about it, Henry realized their new level of intimacy and the bit of peace they were experiencing would probably lead to it... very soon.
Flutters of fear and nerves danced in his stomach, while a little higher up, his chest constricted and he swallowed dryly.
Your mind has a way of flitting from subject to subject, doesn't it?
Henry's feet fell out from under him, and the only reason he didn't hit his head on the stairs was because he grabbed the rail in time.
W - Walter?
Smug pleasure radiated from his connection to the blond. Yes?
Were - you were spying on my head?
How can I help it when your thoughts are so interesting?
Henry, remembering suddenly what the topic of his inner monologue had just been, turned bright crimson all the way down to his neck, and he couldn't help it if certain images of past experiences flooded his mind. Whether Walter sent them into his head or not, Henry didn't know. The brunet simply figured it would be a good idea to get to the apartment and hide before anyone in the halls noticed the problem rising in his jeans.
In his head, Walter laughed.
Instead of taking refuge in Room 302, Henry bee lined it to Eileen's apartment, if only to spite his blond soon-to-be lover. Flushed and exasperated, the man shut the door behind him and leaned on it as if it were an anchor, too distracted for a moment to notice who was in the room.
Or, who was not in the room. It was completely empty, which was very strange for Room 301. It was the unofficial base of the unnamed Anti-Silent Hill group, so someone was usually there: namely Eileen, Cynthia, Little Walt, or Cheryl. Confused, Henry leaned off the wood and stepped into the room, curious eyes glancing about.
I wouldn't do that.
Huffing at Walter's voice in his head, Henry strode in more confidently. Confident, for him, was two small steps forward - but it was a good deal less timid than he'd once been.
Noises came from down the hall, muffled, strange. Brow furrowed, Henry stepped towards the door to Eileen's bedroom. In his mind he could feel Walter's light agitation and amusement; he could practically see the blond rolling his eyes, something he wouldn't have imagined Walter doing if he hadn't seen him do it. (He'd learned the movement from Richard, apparently, along with the deep-aggravated-sigh-and-shoulder-shrug-of-annoyancel. Walter paid more attention to the others than they gave him credit for.)
Henry stopped a few feet from the door, eyes narrowed. He could hear pants and heavy grunts - was someone being attacked? Had Silent Hill made it into the apartment!
Walter was chuckling but Henry didn't hear it over his heartbeat and worry. Eileen could be in trouble!
But then he listened closer and noticed how rhymic, how un-monster like the noises were. How human the labored breathing was, and - and -
Oh god.
"O - Oh god!"
Henry didn't know who was in there, nor did he want to know - he turned tail and fled with Walter laughing at him for the second time in all of five minutes.
Second retreat failed, Henry decided to turn and flee the third floor hall, ignoring the disgruntled noises coming from Walter in his mind. The red flush on his face had returned full force and a tremor had made its way into his limbs, making his legs shaky. Still he flew down the stairs to the second floor, apologizing when he almost knocked Jasper over, before racing into the second floor hall.
He could've gone back to 302, but after making a fool of himself (twice) Henry didn't feel like facing Walter's smug, glittering amusement. It was a lovely sight, Henry admitted, but at the moment he feared what it might do to him (how it might turn him to jelly), and was avoiding it. Besides, he'd meant to check around on people anyway. Walter could wait an hour to pick on him.
He hurried to his destination, a room on the left, and knocked as soon as he arrived.
Within came no answer - none ever did. The knock was really more of a warning since the person who lived their never answered the door. Henry entered without invitation, glancing around.
It was a small and spartan space, with little furniture or decoration, only enough as was necessary. There wasn't a TV - it had been removed first thing when the owner moved in. Instead there were plenty of book shelves; and currently the renter was sitting on the couch, slouched forward, a book open on his legs. Henry approached cautiously.
"James?"
At first the man didn't seem to hear - then he blinked, and slowly looked up. "Henry." He nodded, and shut his book. "Good morning."
Henry couldn't help but smile at the soft, unassuming tones. James had wormed his way into Henry's heart (not the way you have, never like you, the man murmured at the spark of jealously from down the mental line), in a brotherly fashion. Like a little brother who couldn't quite be trusted to look after himself. Though, Henry admitted with a disparaging look at his meager form, James was certainly not little, not like him. Where Henry was lithe and delicate, James was thick and masculine. The brunet frowned; sudden warmth, like a body pressed against his back, comforted him.
He doesn't compare to you - no one could.
Despite how often he heard similar words (every time his self-confidence faltered, in fact), the comment sent his heart soaring, glee warming his whole head.
James didn't seem put off by how silent Henry had fallen, but the brunet realized and coughed.
"H- How are you?"
He glanced off, shrugged, and stood. "As good as you can consider." Sullen eyes narrowed and his shoulders stiffened, as if he expected a blow to come at any moment. Similar dark instincts had been bred into Henry at a younger age - when his father's fists could come any time, from any direction.
Stepping forward, Henry glanced about his apartment. "Is Pyramid Head not here?"
You need not lie little one. You know exactly where I am.
Henry was startled and stepped away - at least, that's what he hoped he did. But there was a sneaking suspicion in his mind that he'd actually squeaked and jumped back. There was the beast Himself - in his Silent Hill glory, not his human form. Henry had known the (man? creature?) had a habit of remaining as himself when in company with James but didn't realize he would be afforded the same boon. The great helmet, sharp and intimidating, had Henry cowering just as James had.
"Try and be polite won't you?" James turned halfway to reprimand his - his monster, and it was the most alive he'd sounded since Henry walked in. Still his eyes remained down, shoulders hunched, muscles taut and tired. Henry felt concern well in his throat and for a moment he almost forgot Pyramid Head was there. Almost.
"James, are you okay?" Henry stepped towards him. "I - I know it hasn't been easy for you but - you seem off today."
The blond was not forthcoming with any reasons, but his eyes betrayed him, flitting to the spot behind Henry's shoulder before quickly glancing off. The brunet didn't have to turn to know that Pyramid Head had been the one he'd been looking to. Why was he upset about the creature? Because they were living together in an odd stalemate? It hadn't seemed to bother him until now... Henry knew better than to openly ask, instead keeping skeptical eyes on his friend's back as the blond turned away and collapsed heavily onto the couch.
Do not worry for him. Came the commanding baritone in his mind, setting Henry off.
Does no one care about privacy!
PH ignored him obviously. He is concerned about an issue between us. It will be handled. The tone the beast muttered with was so potent, so authoritative, allowing no word edge wise, no dispute, that Henry almost felt scared of him again. But they were certainly on the same side now - no matter how easily the great monster could draw anxiety from the small brunet. Still he wondered what the issue was and how exactly it was going to be handled. He almost asked but then, he preferred his insides on the inside.
Henry took a tentative step towards the couch, to sit on the opposite side, where James had propped his feet. As soon as Henry stood by, James dropped his feet down, and let the younger man take a seat. Henry smiled warmly in thanks, and the smile remained, in an attempt to comfort the other.
"What have you been up to?"
James glanced towards the window with another shrug, his usually unruffled hair standing on end, all which ways. Exhaustion permeated his skin, bled through his eyes, and showed in the way he let his neck and head rest deeply against the pillow he rested on. It was like he hadn't slept in months. "Trying to find a way. Trying to move forward." He spoke softly as he always did - such a large and imposing man, with such a gentle and soft spoken tone. That was part of what endeared the man to Henry; the brunet had every reason to be afraid of large, strapping men, but James never scared him, never. He knew the man wouldn't hurt a fly if he didn't have to.
"Have you talked to anyone?"
Finally his eyes came to Henry's, and their gazes met, for a brief millisecond. Immediately the blond lowered his gaze again. It was something Henry would've done, with someone else. Usually he was the one everyone treated like glass, careful not to hurt the wounded man. He never thought he'd find someone more reserved than he.
"Angela and I have spoken. A bit. And Laura." He fell silent and shifted a little, with a wince on his face showing his wounds still hadn't fully healed. "Eileen and Cynthia come to visit often. Laura likes Walt and Cheryl." There was hardly any inflection, any emotion to the words. It was just the repetition of facts, and it worried Henry. He gripped his denim clad thigh tightly. Silence gripped the air tightly. When finally James made himself met Henry's eyes again, the gaze lingered, if only for half a minute.
"I, uh... wanted to thank you. He" (they both knew who 'he' was, and 'he' was standing in the room) "told me what you did. For me." James admitted, and only then did his eyes drop to examining the apparently fascinating carpet. "I vaguely remember it, but he - elucidated."
For a second Henry had no idea what he was talking about - then it hit him. His moment of complete and utter derangement, standing up against Pyramid Head as if he actually had some power of his own. Embarrassment and shame flooded him and he glanced up at the forboding figure near the kitchen - a figure who suddenly laughed.
What is this, little one? Somehow Henry knew that PH was speaking in both his and James' minds.
...
Before henry could fret any longer, a blonde head appeared in his line of sight. The man's eyes lowered to Heather's smirking visage. She seemed all too pleased with something - which did not bode well for Silent hill.
"Go back and find James, then meet me outside." She stated, turning to saunter back out the door. "The three of us have an adventure to undertake."
Ten minutes later, James and Henry stood in the complex courtyard, each with a weapon and a grim expression. Both had an inkling of why they were there, but they were a bit off.
When Heather turned and saw them, she smiled and shook her head. "Those won't be necessary." With a wave of her hand the weapons vanished. "This might be a bit of a hazardous venture, but it won't be violent." She then nodded her head towards the path. "Shall we?" Then, without waiting for reply, she spun on her heel and stormed off into the fog.
James and Henry shared a confused glance. James surely wondered why he'd been picked, and Henry was baffled as to why Walter's constant mental presence in his head had disappeared.
We can't afford to leave a psychic trail from here to where we're going, and Walter understands that. Now come along.
Shrugging, Henry took a deep breath and followed after. The heavy, steady footsteps behind him told James was coming as well.
When the fog lifted - when the veil between the living and the dead shimmered and faded - Henry, James, and Heather found themselves in a place alien and foreign, yet frighteningly familiar.
The girl grinned, spinning about to her allies. "A strange sight isn't it?" After taking in their awe struck faces, she spun back around. "But it only makes me want to fight more, knowing this is here."
Shock and repulsion sent James to his knees, face white limbs shaking like leaves in a gale. "W - What is this?" Henry, meanwhile, was still as stone, mouth agape, completely unmoving.
All around them was a small bustling town, with cozy little shops and thin roads. People took their time walking place to place, a bit wary of each other, but at peace all the same. Henry knew - somehow he knew - the name of this place: Silent Hill.
"Is this a memory?" He whispered. James was silently falling apart beside him. "How can this -"
"A few months ago I discovered this." Heather murmured dryly, head slightly turned to them. "I don't know how - but a town still exists by the name Silent Hill. Above the shadows of madness is Life." She turned away. "It gives me hope that innocents still live here." With confidence that belittled the anxiety of her friends, Heather strode forward, head high, a clear destination in mind.
Henry stared at her back - when he managed to collect himself, he reached out and gripped James shoulder comfortingly. The blond glanced up for just a second, before hauling himself up.
"We'd better go," The elder muttered, and Henry nodded in confirmation.
They trailed after Heather, making thier way through the relatively small shopping crowds, turning corners and taking side streets until they found the woman standing before a building.
"Here we are," She muttered, before purposefully approaching the front gate.
Sunlight beamed over the entryway, blinding his eyes until he stepped closer, out of the light. Only then did the aging, rusted letters come into view, and even when he read them, he had no idea where he was.
Alchemilla Hospital
The three stepped through the door as a triangle with Heather at center, the lead as in all things concerning the group. Both men felt a cool breeze, and were taken by surprise when they realized they were suddenly clothed as doctors.
Smirking (and still in her angsty teenage attire) Heather turned and began walking away, stepping backwards as she faced them, "Very nice. You both dress up so well."
Henry knew better than to comment. "What's the plan?"
"There's a room on the second floor - 206." She clarified, pausing by the elevator. Somehow no one in the reception room noticed the out of place teen. "I need what is in there. I'll free up the path for you, so it shouldn't take too long - but be careful. Don't take anything lightly."
"What's inside?" James pondered harmlessly; perhaps he didn't know Heather well enough yet to realize he'd never get a straight answer. She grinned cheekily and merely winked in reply. Then, as a gust of wind released upon an unknowing street, she sped around the corner.
The duo stared after her, flummoxed, until Henry shook his head with laughter. "I don't know it I'll ever get used to this!"
James finally looked at him - really looked - without turning his eyes in shame. "What do you mean?"
When Henry turned and smiled, James' gaze faltered. "Being part of something. Fighting together instead of alone."
The words made James glance back up, clearly still uncomfortable, but fighting it. He gave Henry a half hearted smile. "I know what you mean." And the darkness in his eyes told the truth.
Alchemilla Hospital was, from all outer appearances, ordinary. But something stank - some vile, loathsome secret, fermenting in the basement, rotting the foundation. Patients seemed distraught, lost, eyes void and distant. Doctors were closed off, curt, emotionless and almost on edge. Family members wept and grimaced, and stayed only so long - no one seemed to like the feeling of the place.
"It's a mental hospital." James commented wryly, and Henry's eyes widened.
"What - an asylum?" The other nodded.
"Something like that."
Screams and sobs came from patient rooms, especially the locked ones behind heavy doors, with padded walls. Henry turned white and looked away.
"Do they really use such archaic methods still?" He whispered.
"Somehow this doesn't surprise me. Ordinary world or not, Silent Hill is a twisted place." The taller man scowled, angered by what little they'd seen and concerned for Henry. Protectiveness radiated off him in droves, the way he kept his larger form in front of Henry, how he blocked him from view. A bit of warmth pierced his sadness.
They found a stairwell quick - neither of them dared an elevator after their last encounter with one - and took the steps two by two, eager as they were to leave the Hospital asap. The sooner they found 206 and left, the better. Both of them stormed the hall and not one person questioned it. Perhaps Heather had cast some kind of spell. Or maybe everyone assumed Henry and James were rushing to help a patient.
Or maybe, a dark voice spat in his mind, none of them cared to look outside their own lives.
It was easy to find 206 - down the hall on the left from the elevator was the door - but it was empty when they arrived.
When Henry tired the door someone finally noticed them - a female nurse. "Looking for that one?"
The small, buxom female snorted. "Quite a mess he is. His father brought him in not a month ago and he's become the most disruptive patient on the floor. Started a fight today!" She huffed and spoke of it as if the patient's problems were mere annoyances. " I believe he's due for ECT right now."
Henry had no idea what that was - but by how taut James' face became, how thick his voice was, it seemed he did.
"What! Where?"
"Where else? Third floor."
James blasted past her, with Henry fast on his heels, as they both careened madly towards the stairwell.
Once Heather was out of the other's sight, her cheerful demeanor gave way to heart wrenching sorrow, and she collapsed against the wall, hugging her arms tight to her chest.
"Oh god -" She bit back a sob, chewing on her lip, eyes scrunched tight together. Tears fought to be free but as soon they appeared she fiercely wiped them away.
The lights in the hall flickered suddenly. She was alone - no one else stood nearby. Again they darkened, for long this time, as Heather's head rolled back and she began to slump to the floor.
"Why this place?" She whispered darkly to the blood soaked air. The lights flickered faster, on and off, on and off. "Of all the goddamn places in the world -"
It was Fate that you return someday. Heather was hardly surprised to hear Valtiel's voice echo down from above. He clutched the ceiling tiles, his head leaning down towards Heather as he crawled closer. Here is where you began, and one day shall you end.
Bloodshot eyes looked up as Heather allowed her head to fall against the wall. "I'm gonna die here?"
Valtiel was now inches away, dead, blemished flesh, void of eyes, somehow managing to pierce her soul.
Not now. Not today. But in a future distant.
A dark chuckle sputtered from her lips. "Great. Thanks for the pick-me-up."
He drifted lower, until his upside down face was in front of hers. Eyes stared at the eyeless and silence descended.
Footsteps broke that silence and both heads turned to see a figure, a doctor, stepping into the hall, hardly realizing how grave a misstep he took.
Heather's breath caught in her throat - her chest tightened - eyes widened, and Valtiel growled.
The beast thrust its muscular arm out, and the doctor was thrown back with heavy force, clipboard and paperwork flying rom his hands; his head smashed against the back wall and created an arched, bloody splatter.
The tension left Heather immediately but she sighed. "You have to fix him."
I don't like when you're scared. The next kiss had a bit of bite to it, a nibble that sent shivers through her skin. A different kind of shiver went through the air and suddenly the cold skin she kissed was warm, soft, and human. The voice, husky and confident, was human too. "I like you happy. I like you pleased. Not scared."
After a short inner sigh Heather gave in with a hearty sigh, reaching up to lose her hands in his thick, short black hair.
"So - are we gonna renact Spiderman here?" The girl chuckled when Valtiel leaned away - red eyes wide and mouth parted in confusion. She clarified by sending a mental picture to him - the confused blankness became a feral grin.
"Certainly."
James and Henry burst out of the stairwell and into the third floor hall - and were greeted with a scream.
Blood rushing, anger pulsing, both men raced through the corridor, dodging around doctors, until they found a room with double doors and the two thin windows - through which a man struggling for his life could be seen. Henry's eyes grew wide as he realized what was happening - the man was tied down to a table and writhing in agony.
Henry and James each threw their bodies against one of the doors - and the moment one of the doctors glanced up at them, Henry let him have it.
Blood exploded from his nose as he fell; Henry grimaced, shaking his hand. "Hope you know how to fix broken noses."
The other doctors stared in growing horror as James elbowed the man closest to him into the wall, then turned to snarl, "Shut it off!"
"SECURITY!"
Suddenly there was a great ruckus, the sound of metal scraping metal - and to his intense delight, Henry saw chains barring the door. One of the doctors squeaked.
But then another, older doctor grimaced and bared his teeth. He snatched the electrified paddles that were on the poor patient - only to thrust them at James, who howled in pitiful agony, body violently convulsing.
Something broke in Henry's mind - a flood gate, a seal. He was livid; but there was an unstoppable rage blazing within him that wasn't his. Potency and absolute power flood his mind and his heart and his lungs and every vein -
"DON'T TOUCH HIM!"
Henry closed his eyes at the sheer intensity of it all - and when next he opened them, every doctor in the room was dead.
James, on the other hand, was now being cradled by his arms, suffering still from the shocks, but winding down.
"Y - You -" He cleared his throat - it felt rough. "You all right?"
When his head started to un-fog, James stared up at Henry with unabashed wonder.
"What the hell was that?"
The awe in his voice made the brunet blush and grin. "It wasn't me, not really. Though I have a feeling Pyramid Head will want to see you when you get home." It was James' turn to blush.
They both remembered why they were there when a small, raspy groan came from behind them. Henry helped James to his feet; then they both turned to the poor soul tied to the table.
He was tall, masculine, and well built - not quite as tall as James, but definitely broader. Matted, sweaty brown hair topped a traditionally handsome face, with hard lines and heavy features. Unhealthy paleness and darkness under his eyes took from that innate beauty, as his chest heaved under the restraints.
Henry glanced to the door. Despite how people were pounding on it outside, it wouldn't budge.
Henry.
Heather's voice in his head drew his attention.
I am almost sure we've been found out - the path back home will not be as safe as the one that led us here. Remain with James and recover, and I will send word when its as safe as I can make it.
Her presence faded to nothingness.
"Looks like we're gonna take a break for a minute," Henry sighed, moving to the wall. James was leaning heavily on him; he was relieved when the larger slid to the floor, back against the wall.
"T - Thanks."
Henry nodded and moved towards the table. He wasn't tired: he felt invigorated, almost antsy, pulsing with energy. Resolved to check their "objective", Henry approached the table.
Up close it was easy to see how abused the prisoner was. There were bruises on his cheeks, his neck, and Henry remembered the nurse's words about a brawl. Henry's eyes drifted over the musculature, which was a little thinner than it should have been, and also lined with cuts, scrapes, and blackened welts.
Looks less like a brawl and more like this guy was cornered...
Concern and worry marred Henry's features as he wondered why in the world this young man - younger than him - would be trapped in such a hell.
Well... we're all trapped in a hell of sorts, one way or another. His eyes drifted to James, then back again.
Slowly, his hand wavered through the air, moving towards the unconcious man's skin, glistening with sweat.
Eyes shot open.
"ERAGHHH!"
Henry's eyes widened when they met, enraged, blood shot brown glaring at him, but he did not jump or back away. He held his hands up in surrender, but did not falter as the man snarled and strained and fought for his freedom.
When minutes passed and Henry did no damage to the bound victim, the struggle stopped, and he fell back, panting, wide eyed with fear.
Henry kept his hands up. "It's okay." He whispered. "I'm not here to hurt you. We're here to help."
Skeptical eyes narrowed - I don't blame him.
Slowly, gently, Henry lowered one hand towards the man's shoulder. He flinched, but did not fight, body stiff as if he were about to be hit.
the hand came to rest gently on the man's shoulder; it squeezed lightly in reassurance. The man was stunned, and still ready for violence to erupt at any moment.
Henry's eyes fell closed.
Cool, soft, and gentle came the feeling - water rippling on a pond, grass rustling beneath feet - coaxing, smoothing, and peaceful. As the comforting sensations poured in, all the suffering and agony came out. henry absorbed it harmlessly, relaxing the wounded soul before him: as the process ended, the patient fell asleep.
Henry, meanwhile, couldn't have been more awake. The pain and anguish that had flashed through him sunk into the abyss, was drawn from his shadow and vanished. He felt fine.
James was stuned. "W - What did you do?"
Henry gave a laugh/huff. "I have no idea." He stumbled over, more power-drunk than tired, and collapsed by James.
They remained quiet, contemplative, burning queries flying through their minds. Who was this person? Why was he important? What was he doing in a mental hospital?
Sighing, Henry turned, cheek resting on the cold wall. "Being involved in all this... it can be really nasty." His gaze drifted to the man (practically still a boy) on the tables. "But knowing people so young are involved too..."
"Makes it worse." James agreed. His gaze hardened. "Makes it worse. When kids like Angela, like Heather, get wrapped up in this darkness..."
"Walt, Cheryl, Laura." Henry's dark mood fell darker.
"Cynthia, Jasper, Eileen." James scowled. "They had their whole lives ahead of them." His irritated, downtrodden eyes fell on Henry again - the brunet was almost proud when he held the stare. "Even you. Cut down before you even got to live."
"If I had lived," Henry placated gently. "I wouldn't ever really have lived at all."
Surprise lit James face. "Huh." His eyes lowered, head turned. "Me neither..."
"Henry... Whatever happens, I'm here for you." He murmured. "I won't leave you to face this alone."
The tension in the room began to lift and Henry managed to smile shyly, glancing at James from the corner of his eyes. "The same goes for you. And thanks."
Thunderous groans broke the conversation: two sets of wide eyes spun to face the far wall, where a breach was growing in size. The rumbling ceased and a hole was formed, with the red symbols lining it's edge. Henry smiled in recognition, something he could have never have imagined himself doing when first faced with the sight.
A bag tumbled out of the hole, with a note tied to it.
Clothes for the patient. It's as safe as it's going to be. See you soon.
The outfit was very military-esque, and came with a set of dogtags, which made Henry wonder if their agonized victim hadn't been a traumatized soldier. Wth James' help, the two got him through the tunnnel. It was slow going - he was heavy and James was still weak - but they made it.
When they tumbled haphazardly out of the exit, the duo (plus one) found themselves in a dense, dark wood. Henry quickly recognized it as the wood just outside of Silent Hill, close to the Wish House.
I hope the connection to the Apartments is still there...
"I know where we are," He began breathlessly. "and I think I know how to get us home from here."
James nodded, somewhat tense, sagging under the weight of the unconscious man they held between them. "Let's get moving. I don't think anyone's following us, but I'm leery just the same."
A deep gulp. "Me too."
So they began to trek, heavy footsteps sinking into the mud, traveling through the shadows of the trees. Daunting noises, creeping about the underbrush, was all that bothered them. Sometimes their charge would groan and surprise them, but no attacks came. Still, they walked on needles, nervous beyond normalcy for an ordinary wood.
Both of them knew it wasn't ordinary.
On they went; and on and on. Henry couldn't see anything familiar and began to fear after a time. Were they walking in circles? Did they have any idea what they were doing?
Finally Henry grimaced and stopped walking. "We're lost." His words stopped James as well. "Goddammit!"
The blond was clearly displeased as well, in his own way - brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, mouth partially open to welcome in a rush of breath. The towering trees around them, hiding secrets from sight, did little to put them at peace.
Suddenly James lifted his head - eyes narrowing further - "Did you hear that?"
"No," Henry strained his ears but only eerie silence met them. "What is it?"
Confusion mingled with doubt and fear became apparent on the taller man's face as he glanced over his shoulder. They stood in tense silence until James broke it.
"I think you should keep going," He muttered tersely. Henry immediately began to protest but was cut off. "I need to deal with this." The wording and tone of voice made Henry realize something important - something radically personal - was occurring for James.
"Let me help." HIs plea was honest and sincere, but James shook his head.
"Someone needs to protect him." Slowly he shifted more of the man's weight onto Henry - it was an effort, but the younger felt foreign strength keep them both aloft. Resigned, he nodded.
"Take care of yourself."
James began to back away, a found smile on his face - and for one minuscule moment, the light made it through his eyes.
The trees were thinning out - the light growing bright. Hope flared in Henry's heart as it began to seem as if the journey was over.
As they came closer to the end, the unconscious wretch gave a piteous groan, then awoke.
A hard elbow jammed itself into Henry's side and he choked, limbs seizing up. A moment later the keeper became captor as his body slammed into the ground and an enraged youth held him down.
Henry tried to speak - tried to breath - but the pressure on his throat from the stranger's forearm made both impossible. There was a feral gleam in his eyes, a burning hate born of pain and captivity. There would be no getting through to this wounded animal. Henry didn't even know if he'd get away unscathed.
The world was going black, but Henry worried more for the poor soul before him (as he was already dead and could hardly suffocate). But once he was knocked out, the youth would run off, and be easy prey for anyone... let alone Silent Hill.
The only thing he could think to do was not struggle: if he showed that he meant no harm, he might be set free.
But it wasn't working. There was a recognition, a glint of pale humanity that appeared just for a moment, but this man had been outside of kindness and humanity for too long. Fear of being returned to that place overrode compassion.
Then Henry tried tapping into the latent power he'd been using before, but the well was dry. He'd exhausted himself using it, so much taken in so few hours, when he'd never used it before. Left with no other option, Henry could only watch as colors blurred... and regrets rose to a darkening mind...
Leaves crackled beneath his feet as he followed the echo of his name.
James... I'm waiting for you, James...
He eventually came to a clearing, devoid of sunlight, where a woman stood with her back to him, cloaked in sheer white fabric.
James stopped, eyes widening, trailing over her form, but he did not say a word. He swallowed dryly as the woman turned and revealed her scarred features, just beneath the hood.
James... you came... Slowly she raised her arms, taking a tentative step towards him. You came home...
"Who are you?" The words were quiet and hurried, almost a whisper, but the woman stiffened.
James... Don't you recognize me?
He winced and fell back as if he'd been hit. "Don't taunt me."
The arms fell back down. When next she spoke, the woman sounded less ethereal, and more sultry.
"You were always too sensitive, James."
The white curtain blew back and vanished, and beneath the hideous Fake smiled slyly. The new face was not scarred, and was covered in make-up; but to James, it was far more revolting.
"Maria!"
Clad in a tight leopard print skirt and low cut shirt, Maria smirked and sauntered with a supposedly sexy gait, but her eyes were frozen, black holes. "So very thin skinned. No wonder Mary left you."
"She didn't leave me." James spat defensively, his voice like acid, but his posture betrayed his anguish, his fear. "She died."
That only prompted a sickening grin, and a dull, taunting whisper like a dry, irritating wind. "Murderer."
There was no reply, no condemnation, only resignation. James' eyes took on a painfully distraught light before lowering to the ground. Shoulders slumped, head hung, he was so lost in his pain he did not see the knife.
"What are you going here?"
"I'm here for you, of course. Where else would I be?" Her haughty chuckle sent chills and shakes down James' spine. "I'm here to take you back."
A bit of steel barely managed to make it into his voice. "I'm not going back."
He did not see her raise the rusted, blood stained knife drawn back and poised, intent on his heart. "I'm not going back."
"You have no choice, darling."
Blade pierced flesh but there was no anguished cry, no spurts of blood. The sickening sound of squelching made James look up - his eyes met a broad expanse of muscles, a grey toned back, a being much taller than him.
Pyramid Head snarled darkly and it vibrated through the helmet, a daunting echo. His left hand took firm hold over hers and the knife, ripping it out with another squelch.
Then his other hand lifted and the Great Knife shone in the dark. James could hear the smug smirk in his tone when the beast sneered, Mine's bigger.
Blood did spray in great bursts this time when the enormous blade tore through Maria's chest, ripping her apart. She made no sound, no sign of so much as discomfort; she merely sneered and vanished as if she never were. James might've believed she were an illusion if not for the blood everywhere - on the grass, the blade, covering both his and Pyramid Head's bodies.
The sudden release of tension and stress turned what was left of James' strength to naught, and he crumbled. His last vision before the world turned black was of his familiar grabbing him (surprisingly gently), and lifting him from the earth...
He heard his friend before he saw them.
"Stop fretting, he's fine -"
"It's been three hours! He should've been up already!"
"He's probably just exhausted."
"Not as if he can die twice..."
Groaning, Henry tried to sit up, and all the voices converged on him suddenly.
"Henry! How do you feel?" The man smiled at Eileen's familiar, motherly tone. "Anything hurt?"
As his vision cleared he smirked. "My ears." Eileen frowned playfully, ignoring the knowing chuckle Richard gave from behind her.
"Good morning, sweetheart," Cynthia took a seat on the opposite side of the bed. "Have a fun trip?"
Suddenly Henry's mood plummeted, his face drawn into a frown. Everyone noticed immediately.
"Heather already knows," Eileen commented gently, a hand on his wrist. "She said she was happy enough with the results. He's out of the hospital, which is good - we'll just have to find him."
"Apparently, the Cult - or the town itself, who the fuck knows," Richard groaned, "set up a trap when you left the hospital. That hole was supposed to bring you straight here."
Eyes narrowed, Henry looked to the older man. "What did the town want? The patient?"
"Maybe. Or James, since it lured him away. Or maybe you, but Pyramid Head showed up before you or James could be taken. Our runaway was gone by then."
"You don't think..." Biting her lip, Eileen turned to Richard. "Do you think he went to Silent Hill?"
He shrugged, with downcast eyes. "With our piss-poor luck, probably."
Awkward an somber silence choked the air, as all eyes settled on the floor, clouded and confused. The crack of the door opening brought all four sets up again, unnerving the intruder.
Angela faltered, falling back. "I - umm - I'll just -"
"Angela," Eileen smiled gently and benignly. "Come on in. We don't bite." The girl's eyes flitted to the curmudgeon in the corner (Richard did attempt to smile). She nervously brought herself in, scooting towards Henry.
"I just - are you all right?"
Henry nodded. "Getting there." He smiled and Angela grew pale, looking down.
"W - Walter's making you something to eat." With that she turned on her heel and rushed away.
Those left behind stared at the door; Richard seemed peeved, Eileen concerned, Cynthia emotionless, and Henry... well, he was oddly proud. It was a baby step, but a step nonetheless. You can do it Angie.
Sighing, Eileen stood, patting Henry's head as if he were young (and he found it a comfort, he was embarrassed to admit). "Well, I guess we'll leave you to your rest -"
" - and your boyfriend," Cynthia winked.
"- we'll see you later." Smirking playfully, Eileen pushed a laughing Cynthia from the room as Henry turned scarlet. Richard lingered, a snarky look on his face.
"You know what today is don cha?" Henry, embarrassment forgotten, blinked owlishly at him. "I didn't think so." A smug grin on his face, Richard left, leaving Henry to be confused.
The door reopened and Henry came out of his half asleep state, blinking the blurriness from the eyes. When it cleared he saw a blond haired angel approaching with a tray of something that smell delicious, and felt so very lucky. He voiced his opinion and the angel gave a quiet, smoky laugh.
"You must be very hungry to be so delirious." Walter chided gently, pushing the tray onto his lap. "Eat."
But he didn't have eyes for the food, nor hunger for it. Henry leaned over and placed a sloppy kiss on Walter's cheek. The angle was awkward and he slipped and kissed stubble, but that was fine. Henry chuckled against his skin.
"Sorry," Walter merely smirked (Henry could feel it in the way his cheeks moved), and turned his head to make it a true kiss. But it did not lat long - Walter pushed him away and gestured to the food. "Now eat."
Henry was not above pouting to try and sway his love's mood (where had all his nerves from earlier gone?), but it did not work. Sighing, he gave in and grabbed his fork, even though what he really wanted was to crawl over to Walter and eat his fill... he surprised himself with his thoughts.
Earlier I was shy beyond measure... now I'm giddy with the thought. What changed?
Henry looked down to his food - soup, a grilled cheese and... cookies? Puzzled, he set his fork down and picked up one.
"A gift from the kids," Walter explained. "They've been baking all day apparently."
But still the man seemed confused. He continued analyzing the heart shape, the pink sprinkles and the icing that read 'I 3 U"...
Do you know what today is...?
His eyes widened in realization and his nerves returned in a violent onslaught.
Valentine's Day. In the insanity of what his life had become, Henry had completely forgotten. Not that he'd ever had a reason to remember the holiday, before; it had always passed by unremarked, hardly noticed and never observed. But now... now... blushing, and feeling a bit faint, Henry's stunned eyes met Walter's.
Conerned, the blond drew a hand up to Henry's forehead. "Do you feel all right?"
"Y - yeah..." He licked dry lips and nodded. "Just... yeah."
The hand dropped but Walter seemed unconvinced. Henry turned his eyes to his dinner, leaving his romantic cookies untouched. The right of them made him a bit queasy.
What am I gonna do now?
What am I supposed to do now?
Standing in the kitchen with both hands gripping the counter, Walter hung his head and sighed. He'd made plans - such good plans too - as soon as Eileen and Cynthia had taken him aside and explained what exactly a "Valentines Day" was.
He'd been planning it for a few days; a perfect plan to make Henry happy. His Henry. But now...
Spasms of fear and nausea clenched his gut: doubts and worries and concerns snaking through his chest painfully. This was the time he'd been waiting for - and...
A stray tear traced his cheek and he let it fall to the tile floor unhindered. He was petrified; so afraid. It was a good thing he'd closed the mental bridge between them (to aid in Henry's recovery), as surely his love would be concerned if he could feel the pounding of Walter's heart, the rush of his breath...
Could he do this? Walter bit his lip and moaned. All he'd ever known, all he'd ever been shown was hate, pain, loneliness and torment. Could he make someone happy? Was he capable of giving anyone happiness, let alone the only person he'd ever loved so deeply his whole life? The keeper of his heart and soul?
What... oh, who am I trying to fool?