"You seem oddly pensive today."
Flick. A little burst of flame. Click. The flame died, swallowed back up into the silver sarcophagus. Flick. With a vengeance it returned, dancing and swirling in the darkness, alive and free but only as long as she willed it.
Power.
Control.
Life and death.
"Master?"
Her eyes lingered on the flame a little longer before she flipped the lighter closed again. Even after the fire vanished, she focused on the silver thing in her hand, the fire starter, her eyes bright in the dark.
Heather Mason only glanced up at her partner when he reached over and kicked her with one of his long legs.
"What's with you? Where'd the 'boss' disappear to?"
A huff. "I'm really not in the mood today." The woman grimaced angrily and thrust her lighter into her jean pocket. She didn't carry it for smoking - she quit that long ago and would never start again. She just needed something to do with her hands.
The darkness in the room didn't bother either occupant - both could see just fine, with the girl staring blankly at the ceiling now, arms stretched out across the back of the couch, legs crossed, and the other sitting across from her, staring intently at her face.
A smirk and a chuckle lit up the male's dark features, his eyes flashing in the dark. "What? Gonna ignore me now?"
The woman grunted and her head fell back further. "... shut up."
That prompted more laughter from the other as he let his upper body fall back against the couch with an "oomp". "Still such a brat after all these years..."
Finally her head lifted, but only so she could prove his point by sticking her tongue out at him. Then her head fell back down. A clunk was heard; and the "oww" soon following proved that she'd dropped her head back too hard.
"You're an idiot."
"Bite me."
Those two words sent a shift through the air - a heavy-ing, like something heady and thick had settled in the room. A long tongue curved over the sly smirk of the man, and his grin revealed rows of very sharp teeth.
"May I?"
There was a pause; the girl shrugged her shoulders, head bobbing between them. "Ugh. Maybe later." The grin faded to a content smirk, as the beast masquerading as a man was content to wait.
"Are you sure about this Henry?"
Two naked, wet bodies stood flush back to back beneath the steady flow of the shower head, steam fogging the vanity mirror. Still, Henry could make out their basic shapes in the reflection, how Walter towered over him from behind, the tanner arms snaking around his waist. One such arm was resting on his upper chest, the hand holding his chin, two fingers enveloped gently by Henry's willing mouth.
It was another experiment, a nervous, fumbling exploration, the kind which had been happening with more frequency since that first day Walter had walked in and found Henry on the couch pining for him. Still, this one was different, more daring. Neither of them had tried going this far before.
Fingers still in his mouth, Henry nodded fervently, blush coloring his face as his tongue wound round the digits one last time, before he opened his mouth with a 'pop'. The hand lowered, thumb tracing the line of his ribs, before Henry was turned around and pressed against Walter's chest.
"A... Are you sure?" Henry asked of the other, who truth be told, seemed more on edge than Henry. Fidgeting, eyes nervously avoiding his partner's, Walter tried to nod.
"I - I just..."
Henry knew. Reaching out, he found the quivering hand, took hold and guided it to its destination. Roses bloomed on Walter's face.
"I don't want-"
"It's all right." A serene smile, just for Walter, came to Henry's face easily. "I want this. I want you."
With Henry's soft guidance, the first finger drifted between the cheeks, just teasingly, and Walter's adam's apple bobbed.
"Henry..." It seemed the blond had made his choice, brow falling into a line of concentration, and Henry's guidance was no longer needed. The younger man's expression exploded, head flying back as his eyes snapped open. Strange, painful, intimate, confusing -
"W - Walter..."
Only one knuckle in, Walter gently pressed deeper, wiggling, stretching, easing softly. Henry shuddered from the queer feeling, the intrusion, gripping Walter's shoulders until his hands were white. Each push seemed the last, the final stretch, surely it could move no further, but then it did, traveling deeper inside him, Walter going deeper inside him... just the thought was enough for Henry to forget the agony and the oddity and sigh in bliss.
"Oh, Walter..."
On the other end, the taller man was fully erect, eyes wide and staring at the panting face of his lover, so lost in feeling when he had yet to master his technique, with just a finger... he couldn't believe this. He knew it was too soon for the pain to have faded, and he hadn't found that pleasure spot that would allow Henry to forget all else. Walter, unable to believe, knew that all signs pointed to one thing: Henry was already in the throes of ecstasy simply because Walter was touching him. The both of them began falling into the tub, Walter unable to keep his knees steady as he shivered.
First finger fully in, Walter began moving it around, stretching out Henry from within, watching the brunet's beautiful face sway from pleasured gasp to pleasured groan, eyes half lidded and mouth formed to repeat the same name over and over.
"Walter... Walter... don't stop..."
But the next gasp was sharp and pained again - immediately Walter retreated, but Henry spoke out. "D - Don't! ... It's okay, keep going..."
The second finger returned, inching in, stretching the entrance and despite how much it hurt, how much it burned, Henry shivered and felt orgasm coming already. To both his relief and irritation, Walter saw that, and a hand came up to grip the base hard.
"Not yet... trust me, you'll enjoy it much more..." He smirked at the frown on Henry's face as he squeezed just hard enough to hold Henry off. With his nose, Walter gently pushed some wet brown hair out of the other's eyes.
"J - jerk."
"You love me."
It was true, and Henry showed it as he began to writhe against his lover's chest. The two fingers were now being joined by a third, pushing and swirling and the pain began to dull, instead of increase with the third digit.
After another minute of letting Henry adjust, Walter glanced down at their erections, which brushed each time they moved, and realized it was time to try that next step. The fingers came together, and moved more purposefully. Walter probed around, searched within the muscle, and Henry formed a confused frown.
"What're you - OOH!"
Smirking, Walter leaned forward and moved his other hand to Henry's lower back, pressing them together. "There it is."
"O O ooooh... oh god..."
Walter waited a moment, then pressed all three fingers against that spot again, and Henry surged forward. Begging and pleading poured from his lips incessantly as he ached to move, to rub against the other, to find release in his arms. Walter kept moving, letting his hand loosen on the man's erection, drifting back and forth over it.
It wasn't long before this pattern sent them both spiraling into bliss.
Walter was still asleep when Henry awoke the next morning; curled up into Henry's side, hands folded awkwardly in front of his face. It was endearing, and a joy to wake to, creating an immediate smile on the younger man's face. Henry sat up slowly, easily, so as not to wake the other, then tip toed from the room.
In the kitchen, he took out a mug and filled it with coffee and cream, before sneaking out of the room into the hall, still in pajamas. The door fell shut quietly behind him, and Henry, cradling his warm mug, walked towards the end of the hall.
"Good morning, Henry," came Sharon's soft greeting as he walked passed the old woman. He nodded in reply, moving towards Eileen's room. He rapped on the door twice, heard a Hispanic accent chime, "Come in!" and smiled, opening the door.
"Hey!" Eileen sat up and grinned when she saw him, rushing towards the door. "Fancy seeing you here!"
A laugh from the other woman kept Henry from replying. "I'm just surprised he's up this early; I'm sure Walter kept him up reaaal late." Cynthia giggled at her joke whilst Henry threw her a half hearted glare.
It was then, as the playful glare died and his eyes moved downward, that he noticed the new addition to the room. Little Walter was sitting on the floor, putting a puzzle together on the table... and there was a little girl beside him.
She was older than him by a few years, but only slightly taller, with dark hair cut into a bob, and a cute little blue dress with kittens on the front. When Walter looked up and grinned at Henry, the girl turned and looked at him with a curious frown.
"Who's the girl?" Henry asked as Eileen let him go. Said girl leapt to her feet and ran over to him, now smiling.
"Hi!" The cheerful voice fluttered with happiness like butterflies in spring. "My name is Cheryl. What's yours?"
"... ..."
The girl blinked. "Is he okay?"
Eileen's hand came onto his shoulder and she gave a nervous laugh. "He's all right, he's just shy." The girl shrugged, then turned back to little Walter to continue playing. Eileen looked back to Henry, whispering concern.
"You all right?"
He nodded, mouth dry. "Y - Yeah... don't know what that was. Where'd she come from?"
Shrugging, Eileen glanced back. "I think she's another ghost like us. Walter found her - little Walt."
Henry looked back at the two children - and shuddered. Why? What felt wrong here? Something... The man didn't realize he'd been backing away until he hit the door.
"You're really pale... you sure you're okay?" Eileen put a motherly hand to his face, but he nodded and gently pushed her arm away.
"Just... fresh air." He muttered incoherently, pulling her door open, and escaping into the hall. It slammed shut behind him and he felt free - but still very disturbed.
Cheryl; that was the girl's name. She didn't seem dangerous or vicious, there was just something off putting about her. Just like the blonde girl -
Wait.
Henry blinked, putting two and two together. The blond girl's name was Cheryl, too. The two girls didn't look much the same, but then, neither did little and big Walter. Was this Cheryl a young version of the blonde Cheryl?
Narrowing his eyes, Henry moved from the door and further down the hall, letting the thoughts circulate in his mind. He'd never really heard from the older Cheryl again after the incident - and until that moment he'd completely forgotten about her. Would he ever hear from her again?
His musings kept him from hearing the pitter patter of little footsteps behind him.
"Hello again."
Shocked, Henry spun around, spilling hot coffee over his hand. He bit back a curse and looked up to see little Cheryl looking up at him innocently, hands held behind her back.
"U - Uh... hello."
The little girl winced. "Sorry if I scared you. You really are shy, huh?"
Not knowing what to say, Henry stuck with nodding. The girl came closer.
"That's okay. I used to be really shy too." She stood, little body swaying back and forth, staring up at him. Color began to fill his cheeks.
"Um... did you need something?"
She shook her head. "Nope. Just to talk. Y'know, death's not the end of anything."
The sudden shift in conversation took him for a loop. "What?"
Cheryl shrugged. "Just saying nothing ever ends. Not really. It stops and starts again. Death isn't the real end. The world keeps moving." Her eyes drifted down to the floor, filled with heaviness and a wisdom someone her age should not possess. "I mean, I've died a lot of times and here I am. Still moving."
Henry's eyes were wide as he stared at the cute little girl, admitting to having died multiple times. What in the world could she mean? The red blush faded to a pale pallor, as Henry knelt to her level.
"You... how many times?"
She looked up at his eyes and smiled big. "Doesn't really matter. We got off topic. I'm supposed to tell you about your new friend." The elder scrunched his eyes and cocked an eyebrow.
"Friend...?" This conversation had as much linear thought as an ADHD child on crack.
Cheryl came closer, leaned in to his ear, and whispered.
"Someone new will arrive at South Ashfield Heights today. He's very sad, and he's going to die." A shot of lightning sped down Henry's spine, and the coffee was waving like stormy seawater because of his trembling hand. "You can't stop it. But you have to help him. Meet this new sad person and go with him when he leaves."
"W... why?" Mouth dry, Henry let the word out like a raspy breath, but Cheryl said nothing. She leaned away and smiled.
"It'll be okay." Then she turned and raced down the hall, disappearing into Eileen's apartment like nothing had happened.
Henry remained crouching, staring after her.
Someone... a new tenant at the apartments? And he was going to die?
"Can't... stop it..." Slowly Henry came to his feet, swarmed by confusion and questions no one could answer. At least, no one here. There was a clunk as his mug fell from his hands, coffee pouring across the floor, but he didn't remember it as he turned and blindly rushed down the hall.
Was there no end to the madness here? No peace in death? Only more death to come, and he'd couldn't stop it. Well, he'd be damned if some little girl's prophecy would keep him from trying to end the senseless violence. Yes, he would greet this new arrival.
And he would keep him alive - no matter what it took.
Somewhere in darkness, a lighter flicked again. This time it stayed open, flame swaying in the dark, trying to light up the dismally dark room. It was an impossible feat - fire might be strong, but this fire was so little, in the face of so many shadows, which easily swallowed up its feeble warmth. No, this tiny light was not enough to light up this darkness.
Nothing could light up this darkness.
Heather knew this, staring at the light, reflecting on hope and how many times it could be squashed before it died forever.
"Heather?"
Her head snapped up. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?"
The thing across from her chuckled. "I will always call you that. It's your name."
The woman/girl (not quite either, but somewhat both) snapped the lighter shut violently, but her anger features could still be seen - furrowed brow, mouth thin and taut, eyes burning.
"My name is Cheryl."
"It was Cheryl. You're not that innocent little girl anymore." The thing stood, walking the short distance to her before kneeling down at her feet, head just above her thighs, shoulders touching her knees. "You're tainted, and your name is too." A hand light ran outside the left thigh, barely touching the skin, tentatively traveling upwards. "And I love it."
She smacked the hand away, but did not move to make him stand. Instead, Heather/Cheryl glared down at him and said nothing, all her words shown through her wicked eyes.
The thing understood. And it smiled.
"You know, you didn't taint me. So don't be proud, like you brought me down to your level." Her hands reached out, slowly, their aim precarious, as if she wasn't sure where to move them. Heather settled on placing them on his shoulders. "I was screwed up long before I met you."
A dark, rough laugh revealed sharp teeth. "Oh I know my goddess, I know." His eyes left her face, looking down between her thighs, but not really focused at all. It was almost like he was lost in a feeling, a desire. "I know..." Then his head fell, not as if he'd moved it, but as if he'd gone suddenly unconscious and his neck gave out. His head caressed her inner thighs, moving sharply and roughly. "I know..."
They remained in the dark.
Henry opened the door to the main hall of the apartment building carefully, wincing as the heavy door creaked with each little moment. He was trying to be discreet - trying and failing. With a sigh, he simply threw it open and stormed out into the hall.
It was nice looking again, the stairs fully carpeted, the walls furnished and wood polished. Henry let his hand slid against the rail as he walked down the stairs two at a time. His mind was still reeling with thoughts, confused as to what this was all about.
Was there still a real world out there somewhere - a place where Ashfield Heights was still an apartment building with rooms to rent, where people lived out there lives? People he had known for years, good and bad. Well... he hadn't really known them. But he had known of them.
Lost in his thoughts, Henry didn't notice the slight changes in the room as he came to the last stairwell. By the time his foot touched bottom, he did notice, head flying up.
People were in the room - most of them familiar faces from a life he'd long left behind. Police tape lined the doors to the third floor hall, and concerned families were grouped together, holding one another.
His head flew to the right looking out the window. It was night, with the lights of sirens brightening the sky, crowds of people gathered between police lines. What was this? What was going on?
"Come on, people, move outta the way -" A gruff voice behind him caused Henry to spin, turning to look up at the cop on the stairs. He was walking down them, leading a group of paramedics holding a stretcher.
"Don't you have any respect for the dead? Come on, move it!" The crowds of apartment tenants finally parted, allowing the doctors to carry the stretcher, covered by a pale white sheet, stained by blood. Henry's eyes widened as he realized what it was, even as his theory was proven correct by a gust of wind through the door. The sheets moved -
It was his body.
Pale, thin, and covered with little scrapes and bruises from his fights with the monsters and Walter - and the numbers were there, bleeding through his shirt and the sheet, 21121. Without thinking Henry's hand drifted up to his chest, where they were hidden beneath his shirt.
Quickly a doctor's hand snatched the sheet back up, even as someone in the room let out an agonized sob. Henry winced. He knew no one would really mourn him, but to see something like that...
He heard a sigh nearby and glanced up, surprised to see a heavy lidded gaze following the stretcher. Frank Sunderland watched the doctors leave with a sad groan.
"Never does stop around here... never does, that death... just keeps moving..." He shook his head in that absentminded way he always did, then turned and began to leave, as if all the doctors and police were already gone.
Through the window the blue and white light continued to filter, blinding and frightening, as the trembling families slowly returned to their homes. Outside, the mobs slowly drifted away, fearful and tired, suspicious of everyone. Someone out there was killing people - a serial murderer. Henry wished he could tell them that was all over, that was behind them now. Everyone who was supposed to die was already dead.
As the people cleared the area, Henry noticed there was one who lingered. One, who stood staring at the building from behind the police line. This one caught his eye.
He seemed the type who was so tired, so exhausted he might tip over, but he was much too strong for that, so instead of sagging his shoulder, he squared them off and fought exhaustion. Sleep deprived, food deprived, the man was big, but gaunt, skin thinning and pale, bags beneath his eyes. A big green jacket sat on his shoulders, making him seem bigger - he was at least six foot, on par with Walter. Blond hair covered his head, but it was short, with bangs falling onto his forehead.
He seemed... so sad.
Henry didn't notice he was walking out of the apartment complex towards the man until he was already halfway to him. No one saw him - no one could. The stranger kept staring at the complex with fixation, almost horror, eyes not focused, like he was seeing something else in its place. Henry's brow furrowed. Who was this person?
The man lowered his eyes, resigned to something, to some great burden on his chest, mouth partially open. Lost and hopeless, the man sighed, before ducking down under the police tape. He was so big it looked ridiculous, but something about the man told Henry he would rather bend and submit, than pick himself up and step over.
The stranger had a strong walk for such a tired, weak face - he had power in him, but was so tired of using it. Like a soldier who had seen too much war.
Henry followed him, fascinated, the words of the little girl echoing in his ears - a new friend - he's so sad - followed the stranger through the front door, towards the first floor hall.
He walked with purpose, walked like he knew the apartment better than anything, before turning and stopping before the superintendent's door. There he hesitated, the lost look returning. This man was such a contradiction, so strong and so weak, so sure and so unsure. Henry watched as his hand trembled when he knocked twice.
"Coming, coming," came Frank's voice from within. At that voice the stranger breathed in sharply, but he kept his eyes open. Some kind of strength was in them -
It wasn't the strength of someone ready to fight. It was different - the glory of someone brave enough to submit - strong enough to kneel and accept his fate, for the better of everyone. A kind of strength Henry had once relied on in order to turn his gun on himself and save Walter Sullivan. It was enough to allow him to commit suicide, of all things, and save the man he loved. This stranger had that same lack of concern for his own well being in him.
Who was this man?
The door opened, and Frank appeared, looking out into the hall confused for a moment before his whole body froze and his eyes widened.
Henry watched, fascinated, as the two people looked at each other, and he took the time to notice the similarities in the faces, the long noses, wide foreheads, the eyes.
"... Dad."
The older said nothing, merely wrenched his door open and dragged his son into a powerful embrace. It shocked Henry how much strength the usually slow old man had suddenly, holding onto his son for dear life before finally choking out one word.
"J - James!" A sob mixed into the name, but Henry understood still.
James. James Sunderland.
He's very sad... he's going to die, and you can't save him...
Warmth blanketed him and surrounded him from all sides - warmth, and the smell of masculinity, of sexuality, the scent his lover left behind.
Slowly, Walter's eyes opened, and fell upon the empty side of the bed. The scent of freshly brewed coffee enticed him to get out of bed, though he would have rather waited for Henry's return, in order to lay with him in it. But he'd grown fond of coffee since Henry'd addicted him to it.
When he walked out into the kitchen, he was surprised to find no sign of Henry. Usually he was on his laptop, lounging on the couch, working in the early hours of the morning until Walter awoke and seduced him back into bed. Today though, it was not the case.
He assumed, then, that Henry was at Eileen's. But, with senses specially trained for his lover, he found the man was actually out in the yard, sitting beneath a tree in front of the building.
Henry?
...
Henry had his knees pulled up to his chest, back against a familiar tree. It was the one he'd had Walter pose in front of as a boy. If you'd asked him when he was alive to point out which tree, he wouldn't have remembered, but now, it was something that had flown out of his dormant mind and returned to him. It gave him comfort.
Suddenly a breeze drifted over his mind, caressed his skin, smelling of Walter and safety, and Henry opened his mind to the other. He poured out all the things he'd learned these past hours - the little girl, James - his discomfort, his fear, his sadness.
In the blink of an instant, Walter was standing beside him for real, the mental connection even stronger.
"Henry -"
Nothing was even said before the blond knelt and the other fell into his embrace, frowning heavily and set adrift in confusion. He scooted onto the other's thigh, then tucked his legs under the other leg, so the two were twisted up in each other.
"Who is that girl?" The brunet spat, knowing Walter knew more than he'd been letting on. Through the connection, he saw pictures - a burning house, the symbol of the church, a town overtaken by shadow.
"It is a long, hard story." Walter whispered against the shell of his ear. "I'd rather not tell you. You have enough nightmares as it is."
Henry turned slightly, shoulder against the other's chest, to look up at his eyes. "I can't be kept in the dark, not if I'm involved."
"You're not."
"Well, I am now."
Walter glared, vehemence rising, and bared his teeth. "I won't allow you to get involved in it. Forget that man. Forget Cheryl and that damned town."
Henry sat up suddenly in the man's lap, leaning away. "What's so horrible about that place? I know the orphanage was centered there, but -"
"It is the source of everything, Henry, and it is much worse than all else combined, don't you understand?" Walter spat suddenly. "Those men who tried to kill me and you, they were from that horrid cult, which was born of that town."
Frowning, and a little off put by Walter's anger, continued. "Yes, but -"
"Henry, that town - it's -" Walter tried to continue, growling under his breath. "Remember the darkness you traveled through while fighting me?" Henry nodded, wishing he didn't remember as he shivered just a little bit. Walter noticed it, and the hands on his hipbones squeezed a little in reassurance.
"But what does that girl have to do with the town?" Henry interrupted. "Who is she?"
"Everything. She and the town are one. And that town is just like that horrid darkness you traveled - full of beasts and traps and the dead. It is horrifying, and I won't let you be dragged into it."
"But -" He didn't trust the girl completely, but she had definitely helped them before, right? Walter heard his unsaid question and continued.
"I know this is confusing, but please trust me Henry, and forget this."
At that moment, Henry tore the mental connection down. Just before it broke, Henry could feel Walter's hurt, like he was rejected, and it pained him to have caused it - but he didn't feel like sharing his thoughts right then. To comfort the other, he raised his arms and wrapped them around Walter's shoulders, letting his forehead rest against the others.
But as for listening to what Walter said - he wouldn't.
Because he couldn't forget that shimmer of anguish and the sliver of power that made it possible for James to fight the pain. He could see that sliver was fading, and would soon be nothing.
How would he fight the sadness then?
No, Henry couldn't forget this James Sunderland.
He had to help him.
Somewhere, out in the fog, there was a long, rusted pier stretching out over Toluca Lake. Monsters prowled its edges, and every movement let out a shriek of blood soaked metal creaking. These monsters, dogs with their heads split open, lizard like beasts, hunched over and gurgling, seemed not to notice the person standing at the end of the pier.
It was a lone figure, thin and petite, staring out over the water.
The door to Eileen's apartment was thrown open, and the owner was shocked to see Walter storm in. She stood to greet him, but he passed her by and walked straight over to Cheryl, who stood as he approached.
"Hello," She smiled even as he glared venomously at her.
"Why him?"
The girl shook her head incredulously, a light chuckle on her lips. "You know why."
"It could have been me."
Cheryl looked up, something sharp in her eyes. "Yes. It could have. But you would do it out of love for Henry. Henry would do it out of the kindness of his heart, out of protective feelings for a stranger. He's different, Walter, and you know it."
"What's going on?" Cynthia interrupted, saying exactly what was on Eileen's mind. The two girls glanced at each other as they were ignored.
"Don't do this to him. He's seen quite enough. There must be others."
The little girl nodded, then looked up to Eileen. "There are."
Immediately the brunette woman found her view obscured by Walter's back. Shocked she tried to look around him, to see Cheryl grinning.
"Not her."
Giggling, the little girl shook her head. "Don't you see? There are other kind hearted ones, but Henry's the strongest. He might live. She wouldn't, not without him." Cheryl stated. Walter was suddenly gripping Eileen's hand so tight it hurt, but she didn't tell him to stop.
"We are not your tools, you above all should know how it feels to be used." The man spat suddenly, voice dark and laced with... pain? Hate?
A nod, lowered eyes, and the girl turned away, looking at little Walter. The boy had been, for the most part, staring wide eyed at his older self. "I know, and I'm sorry. But it'll all work out in the end. You know I won't let anything happen."
Walter's glare hardened. "And you know I can't let you do this."
A smirk came over the girl's face. "A battle then. Silent Hill's strongest demons, warring against each other."
The gaze hardened further, but Cheryl only laughed. Then, suddenly, she was gone.
A week passed and everything went back to "normal", but the tension in the apartments never wavered after that day. Walter was distant, even somewhat angry, and Henry knew why. He was using his powers to keep Cheryl out of Ashfield.
Henry, meanwhile, was a bit torn. He was touched that Walter was so protective of him (and the others in a way) but he knew he had to help that man. Another effect of Walter's powers was that Henry couldn't go back to the "real world" - he was separated from that strange man. James... Henry couldn't stop thinking of the sadness in his eyes.
Brooding by the window in his apartment, Henry hardly heard Walter talking to him before fingers snapped in front of his face. He jumped.
"Henry, are you all right?" The brunet glanced up, and felt a wave of pity. Sweat was clinging to Walter's body, and his eyes were slightly glazed. The man was exhausted.
Henry immediately leapt to his feet and put a hand to Walter's forehead - no fever. With a strong grip on his arm, Henry dragged him over to the kitchen, ignoring what he was saying in favor of grabbing a washcloth. He started to clean off the sweat on his neck and face when a strong hand caught his wrist.
"Henry." The tone was slightly ironic, as Walter smirked at him. "I'm fine." Still, the younger seemed concerned, as Walter chuckled and shook his head. "I was worried about you."
As he freed his wrist, Henry continued drying Walter off. "I'm fine."
"You've been at that window for over an hour."
"Just thinking."
Having finished, Henry lowered his hands. The look in Walter's eyes kept him frozen - protective, possessive, afraid, and anxious.
"About what?" Guiltily, Henry glanced downward. "Henry." A hand tilted his chin back up. "Please, don't dwell on that girl, or the newcomer."
"How can I not?" The man said suddenly, a week's worth frustration coming free. "How can I just forget what she told me? That man's going to die - and I could help him! I - I might be able to change that, somehow!"
Gritting his teeth, Walter snapped back. "No! You can't! That's the point. He has to die Henry, and you can't stop it."
"Then why tell me!" He threw back. "Why tell me it's going to happen if she didn't think I could somehow help, that I might make a difference, or -"
"You don't understand the nature of her, or that place, that's why you're thinking that." Slamming his hand on the counter, Walter let out a growl of rage. Henry jumped back in surprise. Walter hardly ever showed violence that way, not since - "Silent Hill does not change. It gives you hope only to destroy it. She would tell you that man will die, give you the hope you might save him, only so you'll follow him and watch as he inevitably falls before you!"
Brow furrowed, Henry felt some pent up anger of his own clench his muscles. Fists clenched he said, "Why! What's the point of that?"
In a second Walter was right in his face. "To destroy you. To rip you apart, inside out. That's what she does - what that place does."
A rush of blood flew to Henry's face and he thrust his arms out, felt them tremble as they met Walter's chest. He hardly had the strength to throw him back a few inches. "You're just afraid of - of -" Henry's mind searched frantically and latched on to something, a weapon to fight with. "What? Are you jealous?"
Eyes flying into his hair, Walter shook his head and scowled. "Jealous?"
"Of me paying attention to that guy, James?"
"You know his name?" The other spat, and Henry felt triumph.
"See, you're jealous! I'm trying to help him - and all you see is me paying attention to a different tall blond! You're being selfish!"
"SELFISH?" Walter bellowed, and the apartment shook. "I'm being selfish! I'M TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!"
"I DON'T NEED YOU TO PROTECT ME!" The other shouted back. I need you to support me! But his mouth dried up when he tried to say the rest.
"Don't need me! OH REALLY! Can you survive on your own?" Suddenly the enormous, bulky figure of Walter was right above him - and the two were someplace else. They weren't in the apartment anymore.
They were in a rusted building - the subway? The hospital? - and there was a bloodied ax in Henry's hand, a revolver in Walter's.
"Remember this?" The blond muttered in his ear. "Can you fight like this again?"
"I survived you, didn't I?" Henry jumped back, angrier than he'd ever been in his life, but beneath it he felt other things he tried to ignore - sadness. Disappointment. Fear. "I can do it again."
Deep, maniacal laughter, and Henry was back in that place, running from shadows, listening to that echo of mirth coming from all around him. "Don't fool yourself. You didn't survive me, Henry, you killed yourself! And this is suicide all over again! You'll be doomed if you set foot in that place!"
Bitter rage flew up his throat. "I'm stronger than you give me credit for bastard!" Henry shouted.
As if to prove it, Henry lifted his blade and prepared to use it, staring Walter down. The blond remained stoic, the gun in his lowered hand, eyes hidden by his hair.
"Henry..." He muttered, his quiet voice betraying no emotion. The brunet began to feel anxious. Surely the man was pissed - surely he would do something? "Henry... you seem to have forgotten." Walter took a step closer.
Henry remained still, not moving the ax. He would never actually use it on Walter, not now, he was bluffing. But... something felt wrong. A shiver went up Henry's spine as Walter stepped closer.
"I suppose it's my fault - I've let you domesticate me. But you know what I really am. What I do."
"W - What are you doing?" Walter stepped closer, but still Henry didn't step away. In fact, he lowered his ax, confused by this turn. That was his first mistake.
Guard lowered, Walter easily batted the ax out of his hand, his other hand coming up and grabbing his collar. He pulled Henry up as the brunet stared at him, wide eyed, walking forward with him until Henry's back hit the wall. When Walter leaned in to whisper into his ear, he thought nothing of it.
"I... am... a murderer."
Cold steel pressed against his belly suddenly, and shock coursed through him as it pressed down on the very spot where he'd shot himself. The wounded skin burned in pain as Walter pressed harder, smirking against his ear when Henry let out a choked gasp.
"Walter!"
The man tossed him to the side, and he stumbled, falling beside his forgotten weapon. Immediately Walter began stalking towards him, the gun still raised at him.
"Come on, are you just going to sit there?" Walter murmured, coming ever closer as Henry realized something was very, very wrong, and he needed to make space between him and Walter, quickly. Ax forgotten, he scooted away on the floor, staring up at the man. Walter kicked the ax towards him as he walked. "Won't you fight me, like we used to? I thought you said you were strong enough. If you can't stop me, how the hell would you survive Silent Hill?"
The gun raised and a shot was fired.
"AHH!" Henry screamed, jumping as the blare echoed, but the bullet flew by him and hit the wall. Henry jumped and bit his tongue as it went off again, hitting the wall on the other side of his head.
"What is this!" Walter shouted. "Huh? I thought you said you were strong! What are you doing?"
"W - What the hell are you doing!" Henry shot back. "Walter!"
Another shot, and this time Henry merely flinched. "W - Walter..."
The blond came up to him, dragging him up by the collar. But this time, he flipped the gun around, pointed it at himself, and then forced Henry's hand onto it. The brunet gasped in horror as Walter stared him down.
"Don't you get it Henry?" Walter muttered quietly. "I'm trying to kill you. If you don't stop me, you will die. So kill me."
Shaking in Walter's grip, the smaller man shook his head violently. "N - No!" It came out a pained gasp. What the hell was Walter thinking?
"Come on! Do it, and you'll be free to follow this James to the end of the earth! Don't you have the strength?" Walter seethed, anger rising in his eyes. But Henry could only rasp.
"N... no... I could never..." Henry was on the verge of tears. "Don't ever ask me to kill you!" He finally screamed. "Don't you see? I already chose to kill myself before killing you once! I - I could never kill you..."
That knowledge didn't lighten Walter's eyes, or lower his hands.
"... don't you see? That's exactly why Silent Hill would kill you." Walter finally let him go, and the illusion disappeared. They were just in the apartment, Walter and Henry, standing a few feet apart. Henry's legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor, hands shaking. "H - Henry?" Walter's voice finally lightened, as he knelt by the man, but Henry visibly flinched when he did.
"D - Don't!"
Walter jumped at the pain laced in his voice. "Henry... I - I didn't -"
Only then did the blond realize how pale his lover was, how wide his eyes, his whole body trembling, and the weight of what he'd done settled in. "Oh... oh god, Henry -"
"Don't!" Henry almost shouted, frightened out of his mind. Walter stood tall, visibly shaken, fists clenched.
"God, Henry... I'm sorry... I didn't mean..." Slowly, Henry glanced up, and felt his heart tear at the agonized face above his, the pain. But when he saw Walter's sadness, he could also see in his mind the emotionless glare from a moment before, the metal pressing into his skin.
"J - Just go..." Henry whispered, and the shock and pain flew through Walter's eyes. Henry ignored it. "I - I need to be alone..."
Walter stood staring, then his eyes grew emotionless, blank. He vanished into thin air.
But it wasn't like he had just vanished, like he'd teleported away. Henry suddenly felt the mental connection, the shared part of his soul, where Walter always was - it was just gone. In an instant, he was alone - alone in the room, alone in his head, - Walter was gone.
Not just from the room.
He'd vanished from the earth.
Henry sat inside Room 302, alone, cold, shaking from some inner emptiness, and utterly devoid of thought.
It felt so vacant - so empty. A vast, hollow cave of nothing, with only him in it. Just like before, when he'd lived alone for so many years, closed off from the world, but now it was worse. He hadn't been alone - but he'd driven off the one person to love him, the one person who would protect him from anything -
He was trying to protect me, Henry thought bitterly, a burning ache welling in his throat. His eyes caught on fire as tears stung them. Just - Just trying to -
"P - Protect m - me..." The man sobbed, clutching his knees. "Protect... oh god!" A loud gasp for air, then another, then another. "W - Walter!"
He should of known - should have known - all the emptiness and darkness from before was settling back in, as if it had never left. He should have known it was all a hollow dream. He never deserved love, never had it. Why would anyone love him?
In his anguish, he didn't hear the door open slowly, creaking as it did so. But the voice of the superintendent awoke him - slowly, Henry glanced up.
"You sure about this?" Frank muttered, looking at James, holding his suitcases. "There's plenty of other apartments -"
"It's all right." James muttered quietly. "This one is fine."
Frank didn't seem so sure, but he nodded. Henry had a feeling he was one of those parents who could never say 'no'. "All right. I'll bring up your other things."
James didn't seem to hear, standing in the doorway long after his father had left.
Henry stared at the man, who was staring at him though he didn't know it. James eventually walked in, slowly and heavily, walking straight through Henry as he did so. It felt funny, being walked through. Like a heavy burst of wind had soared straight through you.
James dropped his bag without a care, collapsing onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. Head falling back, arms limp at his side, eyelids heavy. Henry watched him loosen his muscles with fascination, drying his eyes. What had happened to him? Was it that place? Maybe it was just as bad as Wa-
Shut up, Henry squeezed his eyes tight. He had to forget all that, all those good things that had made his life worthwhile. Nothing was worthwhile anymore. Sure, he had Eileen, he had Cynthia, but they weren't - they - he was alone. In Room 302, alone again. And that was all that mattered.
Well, he thought bitterly, he wasn't quite alone. His gaze returned to James as the man leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
At this point, he supposed, his only option was to follow this man - to his death.
A few hours after his father brought up his luggage, and it still sat where the man had put it by the door. James hadn't moved. He remained stretched across the couch, his heavy body sinking into the pillows as he cringed in pain, like he was wounded. Henry had looked him over and didn't see any physical wounds - but there could be something, inside.
He sat by James side for a lack of anything else to do, waiting for the blond to do something.
"How long are you going to sit there?" He whispered, knowing the other couldn't hear. "Aren't you going to do something?"
The eyes blinked open, and suddenly James was sitting up, unzipping his bag, and pulling out a gun, all in the blink of an eye. "Who's there?" He shouted, gun raised, searching the room with narrowed eyes.
Henry's heart leapt in his chest. "You... you can hear me?"
The gun was suddenly pointed at Henry's face. "Yes... but I can't see you." James' eyes, determined but not angry, stared him down. "Who are you?"
"I... I'm Henry." He admitted, heartbeat thumping. "I lived in this apartment, before you. ... I died here."
Slowly, the gun lowered, and James eyes roamed the area where Henry's voice was coming from, still looking for him. "The body they carried away."
Throat dry, Henry nodded, though it wasn't seen. "Yeah."
It was quiet for a minute, Henry searching the other man's face, as James tried desperately to see him. "You're a ghost?" The other asked.
"Yeah. I guess my death was so... well, I just can't leave this world. Not yet." Not so long as ... as he was around. Because even if he didn't give a rat's ass about Henry, Henry could never leave him, not forever. Again came the quiet.
The gun was still in James hand, but he let go with the right hand and brought it up to his hair with a sigh. "Sorry about that." He still had the gun, but he seemed apologetic.
"So... you're James? The super's son?" The man nodded as he stood, dropping the gun into the bag carelessly.
"Yeah."
"You've been gone a while. Why? And why come back now?"
The man paused in the center of the room, barely glancing over his shoulder. "I've... been on vacation. My wife and I... we... we left here a few years ago. Moved a few towns over. Then, ... well, I just never came home." He paused, his words heavy and drawn out, as if each one was carefully picked. "Then I heard about... the murders... I had to come home. I had to..." Sighing again, the man cracked his neck, his shoulders, moved his arms. "But now..."
Henry stood, walking around to face him, to look into his tired eyes. "I can't stay. I... I have to go... to go back."
"Go back?" Henry had a feeling he knew where this was going. James' eyes trailed to the floor.
"Back... to Silent Hill."
James was packing a bag for the trip, for the "vacation" - a trip which required medical supplies, a radio, a gun, a knife, and a blank piece of paper, rumpled and old.
"What's the paper?" Henry finally asked, feeling a bit nervous about it for some reason. James glanced over to where the voice was, a little confused, before he looked back into the bag.
"Oh..." It was like he hadn't known it was there. Trembling hands reached into the bag, took hold of the paper, and slowly pulled it out. "I didn't... I guess I don't... need it anymore." But he still held onto it, unable to force his hands to let go.
After watching his eyes flash through horrible pain and overwhelming sadness, Henry reached over and grabbed the paper, tearing it from his hands. James jumped, shocked to see the paper floating midair.
"What was it?" Henry asked, flipping it over. There wasn't a mark on it.
James eyes returned to the floor. "A letter. At least, for a while... or maybe it never was... maybe it was all a dream in the first place." Then he stood, hoisting the bag up. "... I suppose I should leave a letter. Tell my father... tell him what?"
Henry watched as his face struggled, as he clenched the bag tightly until his knuckles turned pale, and he couldn't seem to decide on something. Finally he turned away, resigned again, and didn't leave a note. He simply walked towards the door, head down, ready to leave. The brunet felt his grip on the paper tighten, before he finally threw it away.
"Wait." He called, and James barely halted out the door.
"... let me come with you."
The car ride there was somewhat awkward for before people. James still couldn't see him, and felt somewhat strange talking aloud to an invisible person. Henry, meanwhile, didn't want to make him feel weird, so he sat silently in the passenger's seat, watching the trees fly by with a heavy heart.
To tell the truth... he was terrified.
He was walking back into hell willingly, and now he had to wonder how he - and the other man - were going to make it back out. And why were they returning in the first place? He knew James held some horrible scar, and it probably had to do with Silent Hill, but he had no idea what it was.
He was a little afraid to ask.
"Still there?" James finally broke the silence as night fell.
"Yeah." Henry muttered, voice dry.
"... we're here."
It was a parking deck, overlooking a lake, looking as if no one had been there for a very long time. Henry felt his apprehension rise as the car came to a halt, and shut off, James getting out first. Henry followed after, coming around the other side of the car. James looked up to that side and froze, eyes wide.
"What?" Henry glanced behind him, saw nothing, and realized - "You can see me?"
Henry looked back, and saw that James was definitely staring at him. Looking down, his own eyes flew wide. His ghostly form was covered in wounds. All the wounds he'd died with - cuts, bruises, scrapes, the numbers bleeding on his chest, and the gunshot wound, pouring blood from his stomach. It was an echo of his death, and now he also realized, he was just barely floating off the ground, by an inch.
"What?" He whispered again, shock coursing through him before he understood - this was what he normally looked like as a ghost. Without - without his help, he couldn't look normal.
This whole time, he was using his powers to help me -
"Sorry about that," Henry muttered, finally meeting James' gaze. "... I know it's not pretty."
But James didn't seem concerned, merely drowning in agony now, his eyes pure sorrow. "Did it hurt?"
Henry felt his throat dry up. "You mean... dying?"
He remember the echo of the gun shot, warm arms around him, the confused face hovering just above, as his life poured out.
"... yeah. I bled out after I got shot in the stomach." His hand drifted to the wound, and he was surprised by how easy it was to talk of it. "... bad way to die."
James nodded, looking away, his own throat dry when he spoke. "Sorry." Henry just shrugged. His life hadn't been that important - the few weeks of bliss just after it were more than worth it. And now they're gone... he's gone...
As Henry brooded, James got his supplies out of the trunk, and suddenly Henry noticed something. His eyes snapped open, as he drifted over to the car.
It was... soaked with blood. The back was full of it - like a body had -
Henry's eyes flew up to James, but the other refused to meet his gaze. He slammed the trunk shut, and turned towards the lake.
"... it's time." He muttered, voice falling heavily. Henry looked up with him.
It seemed so peaceful. He couldn't help remembering those times he'd gone out to Toluca Lake to swim... but that had been from the woods near the Wish House... not here. Something about 'here' felt different. The world was darker, heavier, covered in fog.
The two started the long trek through the woods by the lake, Henry following James. The blond certainly knew the way - he was determined, if not slightly afraid. Henry could tell by how tight he held the ax, how his shoulders tensed with each little sound that came out of the woods. He'd been here... and it hadn't been pleasant.
The man's own nerves rose at that, but he shoved them away, knowing he was safer than James. He was already dead - these monsters could hardly kill him again.
His thoughts drifted as they traveled, following James blindly as they got closer to the town. James only paused when they came to a cemetary - his eyes fixated on one of the graves. Henry tried to read it but time had worn the name away. Did James know someone who was buried here? Curiosity bid him to ask, but the haunted look on the man's face kept him silent.
They kept moving, going through rusted fences and old roads, until finally, they entered the dread town.
Silent Hill.
Immediately something thick and heavy fell upon Henry's shoulders and he choked, shuddering, hands grasping his arms as he sunk like a weight. His feet hit the ground and he couldn't hover anymore, bile rising in his throat.
This place - this place - this place - Silent Hill -
"Henry?"
James was at his side, reaching out to comfort him, and to both their surprises James could touch him, and he was no longer transparent. Something wet and slippery ran across his spine and Henry groaned, collapsing to his knees.
"Henry!"
"This place -" he tried to speak but his throat felt swollen.
And then there was the siren.
Henry jolted, head snapping up, as James' whole body froze in place.
"Not now, not so soon!" The man practically screamed, leaping to his feet. "No!"
"What's going on?" Henry was almost afraid to ask, trembling from the horrid noise, the raspy wail of the siren. James grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet.
"Hurry, run!" James was running, trying to pull Henry with him as the brunet was still in a daze. "Run!"
Finally he got his legs to obey and the two barreled down city streets, past - past things - things that snarled and gurgled and Henry knew he had come full circle. Escaped one hell only to enter another. The siren blared louder and the world seemed to dim, and soon he only knew where he was going because of James' iron grip, turning and twisting, and he couldn't hear the man shouting anymore, it was like he was miles away -
"Run, Henry!"
The siren faded into the distance, but the darkness of the world remained. Henry heard the slamming of a heavy door, a burst of cool air as he was pulled in behind James, and then they stopped, both men breathing heavily.
The air was thick, and breathing it felt like he was swallowing chunks of ash, so Henry coughed and bent over, arms resting on his knees. His head spun, legs burning, dizzy and weak - he barely heard the flick of a flashlight.
Sitting up slowly, Henry saw James holding a flashlight in hand, turning it on the brunet. Through the dim light he could see another flashlight, unlit, in James' free hand.
"Here." He let Henry take it, fumbling with the switch. It flickered on a moment later.
"W... Where are we?"
The room was so dark it seemed to swallow the light, and all around came the creaks and groans of metal, the distant wailing of some poor beast. Water dripped constantly, and wetness was soaking the soles of Henry's shoes. James light trailed across the room - dingy, torn wall paper, rotting wood, stained carpet - it was a horrid sight.
"Woodside Apartments." James breathed out, almost afraid of the word. Henry looked up at him, letting his flashlight light up his bottom half, the light throwing shadows on his face. "... safer than out there... but nothing's safe at all." The man sighed, head lowered. "I should never have taken you with me."
Henry, concerned, stepped closer. "I told you; I'm already dead. What can they do to me?"
Ageless eyes met his, half lidded, and tired, and Henry felt his spine stiffen. "I'm already..." James said nothing; but his eyes spoke of agony. His pain was now twofold, because he had dragged Henry along, because if anything happened to Henry, James would blame himself. "I..."
"... let's get moving."
James approached the stairs, and their journey through hell began.
Henry was horrified.
There was death everywhere - monstrous things that spewed acid, dogs with faces torn in half, bugs the size of his feet - and corpses. Everywhere corpses, the bodies of those who had failed to survive, torn apart and soaked in blood and unmoving.
Every room was haunted by darkness, filled with endless noises, the scars of the shadows, and strange things - like shopping carts full of bullets, the wall littered with holes - and a chair soaked in blood, pulled right up in front of a snowy TV - something Henry noticed James could not look at.
Their trip through Woodside ended through the fire escape, as they climbed over into the next building - Blue Creek apartments.
It was much the same - wet, dark, monster filled, and beyond creepy. Everything seemed like it was alive, once, and now was dead, but just might leap up and attack you anyway. He followed James closely, his flashlight flying over anything that might move, his nerves higher than ever.
It occurred to him, ironically, that this was like him and Eileen - but he felt more like Eileen this time. He had come to make sure James stayed alive, but the larger man felt like a shield now. James knew much more than Henry did about where to go, and where they were, though Henry was certainly in a better position to fight.
The monsters they encountered couldn't hit him, and all he had to do was stretch his mind - like he had with... with him - use his mind, and he could kill them, rip them apart, set them on fire even. He didn't like this power - but it was keeping James alive.
They turned into a room, and inside were two doors, right beside each other. One white, one black. The black, burnt one was boarded up, impossible to enter... with a little discarded teddy bear sitting in front of it. James ignored the room, stalking quickly to the white door, eager to check inside it. Before Henry could even follow, he opened the door and entered.
Henry wasn't as eager - something had caught his eye. His steps slowed as he approached the black door, eyes trained on the teddy. It was so out of place - something so innocent in a place tarnished and destroyed. He reached out to touch it gently, almost afraid it might shatter when he did. Then his eyes glanced up at the door.
It seemed to loom like a monster above him, dark and rank, ruined by time and - and - did he hear a voice? A whisper of something? A memory long gone... Henry found he was standing, hands shaking as they touched the wood - and then -
Suddenly he fell through it, behind the black door.
Deeper than darkness - blindness. Total absence of light.
Daddy!
Daddy, no!
Footsteps running, the sobbing gasps of a young girl, the enraged screams of a man, and Henry felt his heart stop. It was all too - all too similar - but worse, but so much worse - this horrid man who claimed to be a father as he raced after his little girl - his little girl -
Daddy don't!
"Henry!" Bang bang rattle bang. "Henry! Henry!" Bangbangbangrattlerattle. "HENRY!" Bangbangbangbang -
Henry threw himself from the dark room, his ghostly form tumbling out through the wood and James' body, collapsing to the ground as he choked. James fell to his knees beside him, hands on his shoulders. "What the hell happened?"
"It - It called to me. It -" His eyes came up to meet James. "You're looking for someone."
The truth of it was there, in his eyes, as James looked away. Henry barely realized the darkness was gone - they were in Silent Hill, but the shadows brought on by the siren had left.
"Who?"
"... Angela Orosco."
He didn't know the name, but he felt the door behind them tremble. The darkness knew that name. "She was... I met her here, the first time I came through. And I was foolish enough to let her go. I can't..." James shook his head. "I have to help her."
Looking at James, Henry knew there was more, other things left unsaid. Why was this girl here? Why had he been here in the first place? Henry remembered the bloody trunk.
James stood, extended a hand to him.
"Let's keep moving."
"Where do you think she might be?"
They were walking the foggy streets, somewhat without aim, trying to decide how to find the girl.
"I'm not sure... I thought I might check all the places I've seen her... but I don't think that's a good plan anymore." James gave a sigh. "The longer we stay... the harder it'll get." Henry nodded, understanding, fiddling with his flashlight.
They kept moving.
Out in the shadows, a heavy head rose. Its burden did nothing to hinder its reaching gaze. It could see the man, could feel him, it knew exactly where he was.
It was time to welcome James home.
Their wandering feet led them to the base of a hospital. Henry shuddered at the sight, remembering his own trip into such a place, to find Eileen - and he also found haunted wheelchairs cutting at his legs, horrible sights of bodies and distorted heads and cages -
"Enough," Henry whispered under his breath. If James heard he didn't mention it.
The hospital was dark, with broken, blood soaked tile floors, and an eerie echo in every hall, the promise of silence that would be shattered. Henry liked this place least of all - and he could tell James hated it by how tense he was.
"Why here?" Henry muttered.
"I'm tracing my steps." James offered, sounding a little unsure, the path of his light fumbling. "... I don't know what else to do." He sounded so lost, and Henry had no way to help. All he could do was follow.
Most of the doors they checked were locked - some made noise behind them, and Henry stayed well away from them. He had offered to check locked doors, but after the event in the apartments, they both decided it was too risky. If the door was locked, they were leaving it alone.
He followed James to a hallway, dark and dank, lined with patient rooms. He walked this hallway quickly, like he was afraid something might appear - Henry hurried after him, until they stopped in front of an elevator.
"Let's go to the top." James offered. "Maybe... maybe we'll see something from the roof." It was a small hope, but all they had. Henry agreed.
The elevator worked, miraculously, and Henry could hardly believe how fast they were going through these places. Perhaps it was because James had been this way before. Still, Henry was nervous as the elevator appeared on the floor, doors sliding open.
Looking into it... suddenly his feet became still. Throat swollen, Henry shook his head.
"James..." He muttered. "Something's wrong."
The blond had already walked in, looking back at Henry with a furrowed brow - then the doors slammed shut.
"JAMES!" Henry flew at the doors, bursting through them just in time for the elevator to suddenly plummet.
Both of them crashed into the floor as the tiny cage lost control, tumbling through the air with only the cable to guide it. James was screaming, back against the wall and arms outstretched, eyes wide in terror as the elevator kept going. Henry felt bile rise in his throat, revulsion shaking his legs though he remained silent. How could it still be falling? They were on the first floor! The hospital couldn't have that large a basement...
"Henry!" James turned his terrified eyes on him, reaching out to him. "Hurry! Get out of here!"
"What!"
"Just do it!" James knew something - feared something. There was a horror even worse awaiting them at the bottom of this elevator shaft, and James was trying to save him. Henry violently shook his head.
"I'm not leaving you!" He reached out and took strong hold of James shoulder, then pulled himself to his side, grabbing his other arm. Closing his eyes, he focused his powers and tried something new. "Hang on!"
He didn't know if this would work, had no idea what he was doing, but with the force of his mind, he layered his psych onto James and stood with him. Then, turning, he threw them both at the doors to the elevator.
With a scream, they both tumbled through, going through the physical barrier, listening to the screech of metal on metal as the elevator kept falling to its doom. They, however, were literally trapped in the ground beneath the hospital, and if Henry so much as let his powers waver a little, James would die from it. Only their ghostly forms were keeping them from being crushed alive. Henry hadn't thought this part through - how to get out of this?
"God dammit!" He cursed angrily, holding onto his powers with all his might. He couldn't let go, couldn't let go - how to move up? Or down? Out! Get out! Get out!
"Hen... henry..." James was alive but breathing heavily, feeling the weight, succumbing to darkness, but Henry pulled him back up.
"Stay with me!" He had to figure this out. How to move? If they stayed much longer James was done! "James, don't let go!"
Closing his eyes, Henry reached out, listened to the world, the earth, felt the footsteps of heels on tile above them, the heavy breathing of something monstrous below them, the creaking of metal, the crash of the elevator meeting the ground, he tried latching onto these, pulling up, tried to feel the floor of the hospital, to pull on it -
"HENRY!"
It had worked, and now James was lying on his back beneath Henry, the brunet leaning over him, and above them towered a twisted beast with a scapel raised. Before Henry could do anything it fell and pierced his back, and he let out an agonized scream. The nurse like thing squealed as suddenly a knife was embedded in its leg. The scapel came out of his back and Henry collapsed on James.
"Oh... uhnn..."
"Henry!" James gently moved him so he could sit up, just as the Nurse swung again. With steely eyes and a hard glare, James caught the beast's arm, then swung his knife into her elbow. The thing screeched. Removing the knife, James pulled on its arm until its neck was closer, and then SQUELCH.
He pushed the dead thing away and it hit the ground with a thump.
"Oh god, Henry!" James dropped the knife and turned his attention to the man half leaning on him, blood pouring from his back.
"Iss'okay..." Henry muttered, pain blinding him. "Won't die... just hurts..."
James felt his back, the blood seeping through his shirt, eyes narrowing. "You might be dead, but blood loss seems to weaken you just the same. We have to stop it." He pulled out his medical supplies from his jacket, preparing to help him. He gently set Henry on his stomach on the dirty tile, turning his head so his cheek rested on the rusted ground.
"S... sorry..." Henry muttered as his shirt was pulled up.
"You saved me, Henry." James replied, shaking his head. "And got yourself injured for it." Guilt crept into his voice as he applied the bandages.
Tired from the exertion, and the wound, Henry felt his eyes drift shut as James took care of him... had anyone ever been this gentle with him? ... oh wait... there was one... once... but he was gone... Henry had chased him away...
TO BE CONTINUED...
This was part one of the Walter and Henry Halloween Special! 8D Hope you guys have liked it thus far! The next part will be posted at exactly 7 o clock tonight, when the trick or treaters are out and about. So, for those who celebrate Halloween, have a fun time! For those who don't, well, you at least get a super special really long fan fic out of it. 83
Sulhadahne (see you tonight!)