Silent Hill Survivors Anonymous
Rating: PG-13/T
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Humor/Angst/Friendship
Summary: For hc_bingo, prompt "Group Support". Once they all find out that they exist, it only seems natural that they meet.
Author's Note: I'm not going to lie: Travis and Murphy (And Anne) are my favorites, and so they're probably going to feature somewhat prominently in group stories like this. I will do my best to make sure I get as much screen-time for everyone else.
Disclaimer:I don't own Silent Hill. It belongs to Konami/Vatra.
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Note: This takes place in late 2011, some months after my head-canon for Downpour (Roughly, March 2011). The only non-canon timeline thing I have here is Silent Hill 2: I wanted Laura to be a snarky teenager, and so in this story, Silent Hill 2 took place in 2003, three years after Silent Hill 3. (On that note, I'm basing this all off the timeline on the Silent Hill Wiki).
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Almost everyone seemed to meet through Travis in one way or another.
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Cheryl met Travis in 2005, having tracked him down amidst some research into her life as Alessa and the events that had led up to the fire. Douglas had driven up with her and stayed to the back as she and Travis spoke about things that were perhaps best left between them. She didn't quite remember being Alessa and only had a dim sense of haven't-I-met-you-before when looking at Travis, but Cheryl and he seemed to have a certain… Connection. Odd, considering the hell that Alessa had put him through; but Travis didn't seem interested in holding a grudge.
Not after what she had gone through.
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James and Travis had the most casual of relationships: Travis had made deliveries to the hardware store that James worked at, and they had struck up conversation on more than one occasion. The subject of Silent Hill came up much by chance, and the only reason the less than pleasant aspects of Silent Hill ever came up was because Laura happened to mention it in passing one day. She meant it is as joke, but the door opened and the next thing they knew, Travis and James were discussing the differences between the monsters they'd seen.
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Travis had picked up a hitchhiking Alex and then dropped him off in Shepherd's Glen back in 2007. Alex tracked Travis down some time after escaping Silent Hill and had outright demanded an explanation for the bullshit he had seen, because he and Travis had had a long conversation about the Silent Hill-area (which Travis was apparently knowledgeable about) when they rode together for a time. A gnawing curiosity, a need to know, to understand had gripped him and Elle, and he figured Travis would be a good place to start.
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Murphy had been picked up by Travis just outside of Silent Hill, after returning to the shore-side with Anne. Being an allegedly-dead fugitive, he was bunking with Travis. A sort of kinship had been forged between them from the knowledge that they had both survived Silent Hill (and didn't even get lousy t-shirts for it). Travis- amongst quiet and flat but profuse thanks from Murphy- assured the younger man that he was welcome to stay and get back on his feet.
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The only people who didn't meet everyone else through Travis were Henry and Eileen. They met James through Frank, and Travis through James. Frank had suggested that they discuss Silent Hill, since it seemed to be a shared experience between the three of them. One conversation led to another, Walter Sullivan was brought up, and the rest was history.
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Somewhere along the line, Travis got around to mentioning to Cheryl just how many people had been through the non-tourist side of Silent Hill.
And she got to thinking.
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"What did you have in mind?"
Cheryl tapped her fingers on the table pensively, eyes flipping between Travis and Douglas. "Something like a… Support network."
Douglas's hand froze, pepper-shaker suspended over his omelet. "A support-network." He repeated.
"Right."
"Small problem."
"Yeah?"
"Most people aren't going to be too okay with discussing this kind of thing in any sort of public forum. Most people have the impression that seriously discussing this kind of thing could land them in a padded cell and a very snug jacket."
Cheryl gave him a pointed look. "We already have people who are apparently okay with sharing their experiences with like-minded people. And we can just have our Silent-Hill-Antenna-of-Weirdness-" She nodded to Travis, who inclined his head towards her gracefully, "-keep an eye out for anyone else who looks like they might have 'seen things, man'."
Douglas shrugged and gave his pepper-shaker another twitch before setting it down. Travis kneaded his knuckles for a moment, considering. It certainly wasn't the worst idea he had ever heard of. "Guess it could work. We're not spread out too far, right? Murphy and I are in New Hampshire, Alex and his gang are in Vermont, Henry, Eileen and the Sunderlands are in Mass, and you guys are in Maine. Contact shouldn't be a problem."
"Right!" Cheryl said, eyes widening and nodding eagerly. "That's why I was thinking that we could all meet together in one place a few times, get to know one another. That way, if anyone ever has any-" She stopped abruptly, and then lowered her voice. "…problems, they have others who know what they're going through."
Problems, Travis knew, like nightmares. Or hallucinations. Or the tendency to jump and scream when you heard metal-on-metal, and avoiding places that looked unusually rusty or industrial. Or staying in places where there were a lot of people and as little fog as humanly possible (such a shame they all lived in the Northeast). And those were just the problems you got from Silent Hill, never mind the ones that landed you there in the first place.
"So how about it, Travis? Will you call everyone?"
Travis nodded. "Eh, why not? Don't see the harm it would do in just checking to see if anyone's interested."
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Wheeler shook his head.
"Girl's got ambition, I'll give her that. Elle's the same way. Ten bucks says she's onboard the second I tell her."
Travis chuckled and shook his head. "No way, Jim. I'll take your word for it."
Wheeler leaned back in the chair, glancing out the window of Travis's apartment. It was a gray kind of day. "So where exactly is Mason planning on hosting this little get-together, a church? Beach shack? Cabin in the woods? Someone got a summer home we can go to?"
"The hell if anyone going to this meeting has that kind of money."
"You and Murphy, the four of us, those four from Massachusetts, Mason and Cartland- That's twelve people, Travis; all of which have been to Silent-Creepy-As-All-Fuck-Hill, and nine of us who have had direct contact with and pissed off those sun-worshipping lunatics. You think bringing us all together in one place is a good idea when they could be watching?"
Normally Travis might have dismissed Wheeler's paranoia (God knew he had enough of it to start a dozen or so conspiracy-based websites), but it was a legitimate concern- especially for himself, Elle and the Shepherd boys, given that Alex was the reason Shepherd's Glen was in its current state.
"Well," Travis sighed. "Given that I'm the one who originally pissed them off, I could always wave my arms and yell 'I'm Travis Grady!' at the top of my lungs. You guys can am-scray while they're beating the shit out of me."
Wheeler rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying that if we're doing this, then we need to make sure it's in a safe place." He scowled. "One that can't be bugged."
"We'll find a place, Jim, don't you worry. Cheryl's resourceful like that. Are you expecting a call, Murph?" He leaned over and Wheeler turned around. Murphy was looking at them, but a second before he had been involved in a fairly serious staring-contest with Travis's phone.
"No."
Wheeler snorted. Travis smirked. "You sure about that?"
"Yes."
Wheeler rolled his eyes back to the trucker. "Well, I say we go get a beer and leave those two alone." Murphy gave Wheeler a flat look as he and Travis rose from their seats at the kitchen table.
"We'll be back soon." Travis assured, and chuckled when Murphy gave a grumbled, incoherent response. The man wasn't much for chit-chat and likely did not enjoy implications that he had feelings for a telephone.
"You sure he didn't kill anybody?" Wheeler asked, only speaking once they had left the complex and were on the sidewalk.
"For the… Wait, let me count… Thirty-second time, Jim, Murphy did not kill anyone. He did, apparently, beat the ever-loving hell out of a pedophilic baby-murderer- which in my humble opinion should have gotten him an instant pardon- but he didn't kill anyone." Wheeler left it alone. He knew what Murphy had done to Patrick Napier, but he also knew what Napier had done to Murphy's son. In the grand scheme of terrible things a person could do, both he and Jim had seen worse. "He's been acting kind of weird, though."
"Oh really?"
Travis rolled his eyes. "Weirder than you seem to think is usual. That's not the first time I caught him staring at the phone."
"Who'd he be calling? Everyone he knew thinks he's a murderer."
"His ex-wife, maybe? That's what I assume, anyway, though apparently she dumped him real hard when he got thrown into prison." Wheeler started to laugh. "That's funny?"
"Man, this whole situation is funny- in a sad way. You're harboring a fugitive, I'm living with a kid who actually died eight years ago, Mason's the reincarnation of some little psychic girl- And I thought I was paranoid before!"
"Oh, don't worry- You're still paranoid as hell."
Wheeler became serious. "Hey now- I think after everything that's happened the phrase 'just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you' is more relevant than ever."
"I'll give you that one." They walked a little further, and Travis thought it might be better to sew up the conversation before they went to a place where people could overhear them. "So how about it, Jim? You gonna play ball?"
Wheeler blew out a contemplative breath, slowing to a stop and jamming his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Don't suppose I can avoid it… Elle will probably jump on board. Alex will do it because she'll do it, and Josh will do it because the both of them are doing it."
"And what, you're their designated babysitter?"
Wheeler smiled. "Nah. We just stick together now: If we didn't have each other, we wouldn't have much." He stiffened, and then pointed at Travis threateningly. "Those words will never be repeated again, Grady. Got it? I have a shotgun. I will end you."
Travis laughed and clapped Wheeler on the shoulder. "Whatever you say, Jim. Whatever you say."
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"So… How is he alive, then?"
Travis shrugged. "Alex says he went upstairs and just found him sitting on the bed, like he'd always been there."
James twisted the plastic cover on his coffee cup pensively. He was on his break, sitting with Travis on the back steps of the hardware store; they had already unloaded the boxes, a shipment of screwdrivers and various nuts and bolts. "Even though he was definitely dead?"
"Apparently. For obvious reasons I didn't really try to dig into it." Josh was alive, and that was all that Alex (and Elle and Wheeler) cared about. Travis did not much feel like prying into a subject that had apparently had such a profound effect on Alex's psyche that it had landed him in a mental institution for four years.
James was quiet for a while after that, and Travis kept his mouth shut here too: He knew about Mary, and more importantly about Mary's death. He'd known James long and well enough to know that he was probably meditating on how nice it would have been to bring Mary home from Silent Hill, alive and well. How nice it would have been to retrieve what he had lost, what he had loved the most.
After maybe five minutes of silence, Travis checked his watch. It was just about time for him to leave, and he still needed to get a yes or no about the meeting. "So, the, uh- group therapy session. You in?"
James huffed a laugh. "How do you think they're going to feel about a guy who killed his wife?"
"I think a good portion of the people who will be there aren't in a position to judge. We're all human, we've all done… Regrettable things."
"That's one way of putting it." The blonde muttered.
"Are you in?"
James shrugged. "I'll see if I can't get Laura in on it. Can't leave her alone, not after the last time."
"Yeah, yeah. How many plants caught on fire again?"
"It was the garden. The entire garden. I checked with her teacher, and no, he did not suggest a re-creation of slash-and-burn farming." Travis fell into helpless snickering, slapping a hand over his eyes.
"That girl. How many gray hairs has she given you now?"
"I've lost count." James groaned, downing the rest of his coffee in one swoop. Once he had swallowed, he gave a slow nod and repeated, "I'll see if I can't get her to agree to come. Want me to call up Henry and Eileen?"
"I'd appreciate it. I don't seem to have their number."
"Do you have mine?"
"I do. Cheryl's made me the official ambassador to Massachusetts and Vermont, so I'm collecting everyone's numbers. If Henry and Eileen are interested, could you ask them to give me a call?"
"Sure thing." James crushed his cup and took a deep breath. Travis observed the younger man with some sadness: James was thirty-seven, but he had the general appearance and conduct of someone much older. Silent Hill, his guilt over Mary and the work of raising Laura alone had worn him down over the years. Maybe having a place and a group of people to talk to would do him some good.
Travis gestured towards his truck before patting James on the shoulder. "I'll talk to you later, James. Don't let Laura give you an ulcer, all right?"
"Another ulcer." James corrected with a sardonic grin.
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Travis picked up the phone to call Douglas, but a sudden epiphany told him that he hadn't checked for any messages, and he was expecting Henry Townshend or Eileen Galvin to call with their numbers.
He pressed a button, and on the screen a number popped up: 207-555-2925. Above it read WINDHAM ME.
Travis frowned. It was possible that it was just a telemarketer, but the time-stamp on the screen said that the call had come in the day before, 9/17 2:04 PM- and he happened to recall, yesterday afternoon, Murphy being right next to the phone around that time. Travis had left around 1:50 to pick something up at the corner-store.
Now, if Murphy hadn't recently been caught staring at the phone a number of different times over the past two weeks, Travis may have stuck by his telemarketer theory. But because he had, Travis developed an alternate one: Murphy had tried to call someone; they either didn't pick up, or he had hung up before they could. And then the person maybe checked their own caller-ID and dialed the number back.
Yes, that sounded likely.
When Murphy came home about an hour later from the garage he had managed to get a job at, Travis pounced.
"Were you calling someone?"
Murphy's expression went blank, and he folded his arms over his chest. "No."
"Because I don't care if you call anyone, Murphy, I really don't."
"I wasn't calling anyone."
Jesus H. Christ: The man was a crap liar, but he just denied and denied and denied until he was blue in the face. "Okay then, who were you not calling?"
"I didn't call anyone, Travis." Murphy was already turning away, heading towards the bathroom as he undid the first two buttons on his shirt. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take a shower and scrub away the scent of motor-oil."
"If you had any experience as a mechanic you would know that smell never goes away!" Travis called after him, raising his voice as the younger man got further away and eventually disappeared into the bathroom.
In all honesty, Travis didn't care if Murphy had called someone; the man was smart enough not to do anything that would get him thrown into prison again. Maybe Travis was just turning into a busy-body (though precedent might suggest that he had always been one), but he was simply curious as to who it was Murphy was calling and why he was so hell-bent on keeping it secret.
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"This is it."
Cheryl pushed open the door, holding it so that Travis could follow in behind her. They were in the basement of a church in New Hampshire- somewhere in or near Concord, Travis honestly didn't know where the town or city lines were. Geographically, it was the epicenter of everyone's homes, almost an equal distance from each place to get there, so no one really had to travel an unreasonable amount of time to get there.
The room itself was one of many smaller rooms that encircled a larger, empty room. It had a table, and room for people to sit around it; it wasn't like they needed much space, they weren't hosting an exercise class or anything.
Cheryl turned to face Travis once she had reached the head of the table. "So… What do you think?"
Travis shrugged, looking around the room. "Suitable."
"Suitable."
"Suitable." He reaffirmed. "Unless you were planning a cage-fight, in which case it may be a bit too narrow." Cheryl gave him a flat look.
"Go on Comedy Central with that act."
"I would if they'd have me!"
Cheryl plopped down in a seat, leaning back and stretching her legs out as much as the space would allow. Her eyes scanned the room, and as they lingered on the ceiling she asked, "Do you think this is a good idea?"
Travis glanced at the young woman, and looked away when she didn't return it. "It's not a bad one."
"I just…" Cheryl pursed her lips, eyes narrowed. "I mean, I don't really know how we're going to do this. Most everyone knows you, but… We're asking people to bond over what are probably some of the most traumatic memories of their lives."
"Seems to work for other group-therapy sessions. Ours is just a little more… Creepy."
"Like we all went to a Halloween party that went terribly, terribly wrong."
"Essentially." Travis folded his hands on his lap. "Assuming all goes well with the first few meetings, everyone will probably start to get more comfortable with one another. God knows I'm not going to be blurting out all the shit from my past that Alessa dredged up when I went to the place."
"Did I ever apologize to you for that?" Cheryl asked dryly. She had, several times, usually whenever the subject of Alessa (pre-split) came up. The apologies were typically pretty wry, bordering on funny, but Travis had detected in every, single one of them a note of pure seriousness: Cheryl was genuinely sorry for Alessa's manipulation of him all those years ago. And Travis had assured her on about half of those occasions, very seriously, that he didn't blame her in the slightest.
Now, he felt, was not a time he needed to reiterate that.
"Yeah. Doesn't mean I have to forgive you though, you crazy brat." Cheryl hesitated, but then her mouth twisted into a grin.
"The hell with you then, old man: I don't need your forgiveness."
Travis settled more heavily into the chair with a hearty chuckle. "Ah… This is gonna be fun."