Disclaimer: if only, if only... Believe me, if I owned Silent Hill, I would be the happiest person in the world. But I don't own anything. Ask Konami, they will confirm it.

Author's Note: Not many people seem to read my SH fanfiction, but nevertheless I keep on writing it again and again X))) This time I decided to try something more challenging and to write from the POV of a character I actually haven't thought about. This man's fate seems tragic and touching for me, so I've chosen him...

This story can be a little AU, but just a little (I mean the episode with Frank talking with James and visiting Mary in the hospital - really it seemed he didn't do it, of course; but I wanted to describe it very much).

If you like it, press the review button and drop me a line ;)

My favourite colour is white.

Colour of the cloudy autumn sky. Colour of the reading lamp light on my table. Colour of the wedding dress.
Memories about the wedding dress are especially bright and painful. Usually I don't remember my mother's wedding dress which I've only seen on the photos. Even when I shew them to six-year-old James, and he screamed with excitement "Dad, Granny is the most beautiful woman in this dress, isn't she?", I felt numb and couldn't find the valuable words to answer him. I regret my son has never met his grandmother.

I don't remember my wife's dress quite well; I don't even remember our wedding. Everything was flashing too quickly: our meeting, our love, our marriage, James's birth... And then it stopped with her leaving. We're still aren t even divorced. She just told me our love is over and walked away. I knew she was right. But I still had a little child on my hands - our son - and I also knew I had to bring him up doing all my best. I knew James wouldn't repeat my own way, my own mistake...that I just let his mother go.

So I remember my daughter-in-law's dress perfectly. It was quite simple, and Mary had chosen a few of jewellery. But I'm still sure her bright and happy eyes were the best adornments for her.I remember the moment I hugged her and whispered calmly: "Be happy, my dear. I know you both deserve it." And I remember when my and James's looks met somewhere in the crowd of the guests. He was at loss, but when he saw me, he smiled calmly and softly. Just like his mother did. That moment I felt tears in my eyes.

When they went to Silent Hill, I felt some unpleasant cold in my chest, some kind of presentiment - just for a few days...My mistake was that I just took it as tireness - be sure, to be a superintendent in a such big and noisy building as South Ashfield Heights will eventually eat you all. But there was something wrong with that building, and it still exists.A part of me knew when it all started. From that abandoned baby I found once...or not? Anyway, I tried not to pay attention to that moody thoughts and surmises. I had a family and I was looking forward for James and Mary's return.

But they didn't return. Neither the day they had planned to, nor later. I was loosing my mind from anxiety. I didn't trust the day I called up to their place. No answer. No answer. No answer. I was ready to surrender. But one day, to my shock, I was answered.

"Hello?"

That "hello" was so strange to me. The man's voice was weak and hoarse. It might belong to a man who hadn't slept for a long time and in addition I could say he was drunk. Obviously it wasn't the voice I expected to hear.

"I'm sorry, it must be the wrong number..."

After the pause my collocutor asked unsurely:

"Dad?.."

I felt my foots glued to the floor.

"Oh God", I breathed out. "James...How are you...Why...I don't..."

"Dad, Mary's very ill. I couldn't manage to call you."

You couldn't manage or you didn't want, I spoke to myself.

"Ill? What happened? What is going on? Is she in the hospital? Are you back?" I had too many questions and no hope he would answer them all. James kept silent.

"James?" I said desperately wondering if we were still connected.

"Yes, we're home. We're in Ashfield."

"Please, tell me where she is."

"It's our own deal. You never seemed to be very interested in our life..." He sounded irritated. The words I heard from my son were painful, but true. Painfully true. I hadn't seen anything through my work...

"James, I WANT TO SEE HER!" I finally lose my temper. "And...I want to see you at last."

Silence, torturing silence.

"She's in the St. Jerome's hospital."

Berore I laid the handset, he added:
"I'm...very sorry, Dad."

It was the last time I've ever heard his voice.

I rushed like mad to the hospital to see Mary. I repeated myself again and again that everything wasn't so bad, that she would recover, certainly she would...but was I sincere?

When I saw her, I understood I wasn't. It seemed that only a ghost remained of the beautiful young woman I had known once. She met me with surprise, but joy, and I couldn't share it looking in her eyes filled with bitterness. We had been talking for several hours - that had happened so rarely in our much happier time. She was asking about my health, my work and our common friends, but tried to avoid answering my questions - about herself, about James and changes in their relationships. Pain and cold in my heart were becoming stronger during our meeting: it was unbearable to accept my dearest people were hiding something very important from me.

When I decided it was time to come back home, it was already the late evening.

"I wanted to tell you...I'm tired. I'm tired with all of it. With my life." She suddenly told me.

"It's because of your illness. You'll be all right." I gently squeezed her hand.

"I won't..." She turned her face to me, and I saw her crying. Then I realized. And touched her cheek.

"You have to live, my dear."

She didn't response, but the answer was clearly visible in her eyes.
For what?.. My time is over.

I wasn't able to tell her anything more. Instead of it I kissed her on her forehead and whispered:
"Then I beg you just to be strong."

The moment my hand touched a door handle, she lifted:
"Frank!"

It was too hard for to look at her once again, but I turned:

"Yes?"

"If you see James, tell him...I'm waiting."

She added so quietly I harly managed to hear:
"...No matter what.'

It was the last time I've ever seen her.

Two years have passed, and only the photographs still remain me how alone and empty I am. I told to everyone that James and Mary dissapeared on their vacation in Silent Hill. Well, it's almost true - they were already dissapearing, slipping, while being there. Now I know nothing about them. Sometimes I call them up and listen to the toots in complete silence. I'm empty, and any work can't fill this emptiness,it only distracts my attention from it. However, I even manage to become friends with somebody. For example, Henry Townshend from 302 is a very good guy. To say the truth, I don't know much about him: I can't say whether he works, has parents, friends, girlfriend. But he likes photography, and I presented him some nice pictures. Henry shew me his photos made in Silent Hill. I hope he didn't see my face that moment he mentioned about Silent Hill, he's just fascinated with this town...

I try to work as much as I can to hide from the emptiness. This loss destroyed a part of me forever. But sometimes I ask myself the only one question.

James...Mary...Are you happy there...wherever you are?