Note: Okay, here we go again. This time it's Silent Hill. I don't know why. Yesterday I was all about the Teen Titans, and today it's all about the Silent Hill. So I noticed that there's a distinct lack of HeatherXVincent stuff on this site and I made it my duty, no my LIFE'S MISSION (da da da da da da daaaaaa!) to remedy this situation. Which is odd because I'm usually an avid yaoi writer. I'm not really good at het stuff but I'll try. Please feel free to laugh at my pathetic efforts. Especially since this fanfic, like my many others, will most likely never be finished due to my incredibly short attention span. In fact, I might not even-- ooh, what's that? Ooh, look, a butterfly! I'm sorry, what? The fanfic? OH SH--
I don't own Silent Hill 3, or any of the Silent Hill games for that matter. I don't own anything having to do with Silent Hill. Konami does. Lucky, lucky Konami.
WHAT IS THIS I DON'T EVEN--
Deception and Deliverance (1)
Heather fell to her knees in front of the gigantic, malformed corpse, having struck it down just moments before. It's head stopped twitching, the arms stopped flailing, and the horrific screech echoing through the walls finally ceased. Heather dropped the blood-stained katana and stood slowly, knees shaking as she stared in horror at herself, covered in blood and who-only-knows (it seemed inappropriate in Heather's mind to think of "God only knows", seeing as the giant corpse in front of her was the supposed "God" she birthed and murdered) what else. Oh man, what did I just do? What's been going on? I've gotta get out of here. She turned and fled, back through the doors which she came from. She slammed straight into a warm body, sending both herself and the other person flying to the floor in opposite directions. "Heather, calm down! It's only me!" Vincent stood up, put his glasses back on, and helped Heather to her feet.
"Vincent?! How are you still alive?! This is another hallucination, isn't it? I'm insane! You can't be alive! I saw you get murdered! There was blood everywhere!"
"Did you?" Vincent grinned his trademark snarky grin and opened up his vest and shirt, revealing a bulletproof Kevlar material covering his torso and several blood capsules taped to his front that had been punctured, still leaking their false contents down his front. "I faked my death to throw Claudia off, giving you enough time to destroy her false God and save us all. Claudia thought she'd stabbed me dead, but I had one over on her." Vincent buttoned his shirt back up just in time to catch an armful of Heather, who had barreled into his chest in a crushing hug.
"I thought you were dead.... The only person here who really understood me. My father is dead, and I can't go home. I thought I was going to be stuck here forever."
Vincent patted her back. "There, there, Heather. Don't feel sad. I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm not sure whether it's a good thing or a bad thing, but it seems like you're stuck with me."
Heather broke down crying, clutching Vincent's bloodstained shirt tightly, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to let go. "You... you bought me time... you faked your own death.... you cared about me enough to help me...."
"Of course, Heather, what would give you the impression that I didn't?" He asked, holding her tightly.
"You.... bought me time...."
"Er, yes, we've established that."
"Faked your own death...."
"Heather?"
Suddenly, Heather's fist connected with the side of Vincent's head, knocking him over. "Ouch! Heather, what the hell!" Vincent cried, grabbing his head. His glasses went flying off again. He found them and put them back on.
"You idiot! You fucking stupid idiot! You didn't even tell me you were going to do this? I was so worried about you, I was beside myself! You didn't tell me you were still alive?! I was close to suicide, don't you understand that, you fucking asshole?! I thought you were dead!"
"I had to make it believable. If you knew I was still alive after Claudia stabbed me, she would have found out and it would have been for nothing. To deceive her, I had to deceive you, and for that I'm sorry, but it wouldn't have worked any other way, you understand? Believe me, I didn't want to do it, but I had to procure you that time, and there was no other way to do it." Vincent explained calmly, rubbing the sore lump on his head. Heather really did have a strong arm for such a petite little thing.
"I was about to shoot myself!" Heather shrieked, punching him in the chest.
"I know, and I had no choice but to take that risk. I'm sorry." Vincent replied, gently taking hold of Heather's wrists.
Heather started crying again, and Vincent put his arms around her to comfort her. "I'm sorry.... I'm so sorry, Heather...." he repeated quietly into her hair.
"I have no home now." Heather whispered into Vincent's shirt, tears mixing with the fake stage blood that stained it. "My father is dead...."
"Yes, you do." Vincent said simply, and Heather's surprised gasp cut through the silence. She looked up at him, and for once, both of his eyes bored straight into hers, instead of his false attention he usually paid to things.
"But no... I don't. I'm not old enough to get my own house. My dad's dead.... I don't have a job, how am I supposed to pay for--"
"Now who's the idiot?" Vincent cut her off, his snarky grin returning.
"What are you talking about?" Heather asked, pushing away from him slightly.
"If you weren't so busy being dense, you'd notice that I'm inviting you to come live at my house." Vincent said. "I mean, it's only right. You don't have anywhere else, you know. I doubt the police are going to let you into your apartment now. They've probably got the whole building cordoned off. I've got a spare room you can use, and, well, I don't know, I just like you."
"Oh. Oh! Really? I can stay with you?"
"Only if you don't mind being up to your chin in books and documents." Vincent said, ticking her under the chin with his finger for emphasis.
Heather launched herself at him fully, locking her lips with his. Vincent was stunned at first, his arms flailing to the sides, but soon found his grip again and kissed her back with full force, letting his tongue battle with hers. He backed her up against the wall, and she pressed against it, never breaking the heated kiss. Their bodies fit together like jigsaw pieces, grinding up against one another in a hot battle. Swiftly, Heather's free hand came snapping up to Vincent's face to whip his glasses off and throw them to the side, where he quickly caught them and stuffed them in his back pocket. They broke the kiss, staring at each other heatedly for a few seconds, catching their breath, before diving into another kiss, sloppy and just as passionate as the first. As they broke apart, panting, they could see their breath as steam in the air. Heather's body was shaking from the intensity.
"God... Heather... you have no idea.... what you do to me... what you've always done to me... I fell in love with you the moment I met you, though I couldn't tell you then.... It burned, having to deceive you, having to lie to you. It burned my soul in ways I thought my soul never could. At first, I couldn't understand why, but then it soon became clear to me. I loved you, Heather. I loved you and would always love you."
"You've given me a home, hope, and open arms when I had nothing left... you saved me from inevitable destruction.... how could I not fall in love with you? You're my knight in shining armor, Vincent. You gave me a second chance at life." Heather responded. "You're all I've got left." She added desperately, seizing his shirt front.
"Come on, Heather, let's go home. We're both covered in blood and God only knows what else."
Heather's knees were shaking too badly for her to walk. Vincent lifted her as if she were a child and carried her off, one arm supporting her legs and the other at his side. He put his glasses back on for a third time.
It was another hour before he would put her down, and she would wobble her way through Vincent's front door.
"Vincent... where's your shower?" She asked.
"Upstairs, third room on the left." He replied, smiling. "Don't take too long, okay? I'm going to start dinner."
"Ugh, I can't eat after what I just had to do. That rotten, burned flesh is still in my mind.... gross."
"Okay, then, that's a no on the spaghetti I was planning to make?"
"Please, no." Heather replied weakly, turning a sickly shade of green.
"No problem. I'll just order myself a sub, then. If you want anything after your shower, feel free to raid the fridge. It's your fridge too, now." Vincent said, kissing the top of her head. She smiled and scampered off to go take a shower, stripping off various articles of clothing along the way. Later on, Vincent would find her vest on the stairwell, her shirt and skirt in the hallway, one boot outside the bathroom door, the other just inside, and her socks thrown into the bathroom sink.
Vincent picked up the phone and dialed the number of the nearest sub shop, ordering himself "The usual, Mike. Extra cheese this time, okay?" and was assured a swift delivery.
He stripped himself down to the waist, throwing his bloodstained shirt and vest into a bin to be cleaned later. He then went around and picked up after the overeager Heather, throwing her clothes into the bin as well, even going so far as to sneak into the bathroom quietly to retrieve her socks.
He pulled out a night shirt that was too big for even himself, so he figured it would be perfect for Heather to use as a nightgown of some kind. He put it in the bathroom and stuck a little note on it saying Here, you can wear this tonight, and tomorrow we'll go shopping, okay?
Vincent's sub arrived just as Heather got out of the shower, and she walked out of the bathroom wearing the shirt and a towel on her head, but nothing else. The shirt was just large enough to be decent, but still showed off quite a bit of her legs and rode up just a little too high when she bent over or stretched out. The delivery boy whistled appreciatively, earning him two steely glares and $6.00 less in tips.
Vincent closed the door and put his sub on the table. "Tomorrow, we'll totally go shopping for you. You don't have anything else to wear and after today's events, I do not feel like doing laundry."
"Good call. So what do I wear tomorrow?"
"I should have something around here. Probably. I don't know, I pretty much just wear the same thing every day, so I'm not sure if any of my clothes will fit you."
"I can always just wear the vest and my skirt."
Vincent shrugged and began eating. "By the way," he said between bites, "you look fantastic in that." He said, eyeing her up and down through his glasses.
Heather laughed and kissed Vincent's neck with hot, wet lips. "You look fantastic in that." Heather replied, running her fingers down Vincent's bare chest, making the older man shiver in delight. He swallowed heavily with a gulp.
"Ooh, okay now, none of that." Vincent said cheekily, regaining his composure.
"And why not?" Heather asked in a husky tone that sent all of Vincent's blood spiraling south at a high velocity.
Suddenly Vincent's pants seemed very, very unnecessary.
When Heather clambered onto Vincent's lap wearing little more than an old-T-shirt, Vincent had never hated the pants he was wearing more than that moment.
And when Heather's lips met his hotly, Vincent prayed with all his might that his pants would just disappear into the ether, never to be seen again.
Her lips met his neck and continued downwards, leaving a burning trail of kisses down his chest and torso.
"Oh, God, Heather...." Vincent groaned, the muscles in his legs twitching, trying to tell him to just tip her backwards and ravish her, but his brain not responding, keeping him rooted firmly in his chair. In fact, Vincent doubted his brain was even working properly with no blood flow to it. Somehow, he didn't think that much blood could fit into one erection, but once again, he was proven wrong.
Suddenly he shot up from his chair, startling Heather, who fell to the floor with a thump. He grabbed her by the shirt and dragged her along into the parlor, where he unceremoniously dumped her on the sofa. He climbed over her, and their lips met again, feverishly working towards a common goal. Heather's hands flew to his belt, undoing the buckle and pulling the belt straight off. She fiddled with the button, her fingers brushing repeatedly against Vincent's heated shaft through his slacks. Vincent couldn't help but pant helplessly as Heather worked to undo the hidden button underneath the first one. FInally she got the buttons undone and dipped her head down, undoing the zipper with her teeth.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Vincent panted as Heather's tongue managed to worm it's way inside the flap of his pants and caress his cock greedily.
"You can call me Heather. Or Cheryl, it really doesn't matter. You can choose." Heather replied in a cheeky tone, grinning up at the older man.
"I choose to call you mine, that's what I choose." Vincent nearly snapped, pulling her back up and pulling the T-shirt up over her head and off, leaving her completely bare and still somewhat damp from her shower, giving her skin a glistening shine. "Christ, you are so gorgeous. I love you so much." Vincent said.
"I love you too..." Heather replied. Vincent ran his hands down her sides, feeling every curve and dip in her luscious frame. Heather responded with a low purr from the back of her throat. "Mmm, Vincent..." She moaned.
Vincent's lips and teeth were everywhere, his glasses cold against her hot skin. She trembled in his arms, pleasure rooting itself deep within her very core and spreading itself like a fiery wave through her entire body. Her quaking arms reached for his pants again, and tried to pull them off. Vincent sucked at Heather's neck, leaving a mark that would certainly turn a nice shade of purple later.
Suddenly the doorbell went off, startling Vincent and sending him to the floor with his pants around his knees. "Oh, what the fuck!" He cried, "Who the fuck would be in fucking Silent Hill other than us, Jesus!" He pulled his pants back up and adjusted his glasses while Heather scrambled to put her shirt back on. Vincent flung open the door. A police officer, dressed in blue, held out her police badge.
"Sir, I'm here investigating multiple murder cases. I have a warrant. Do you mind if I come inside?" The officer asked, raising one eyebrow.
Vincent caught his breath and sighed, opening the door fully. "I suppose not..." He mumbled. Heather sat up on her knees, a pillow on her lap.
"Is there a problem?" Vincent asked the officer.
"We've gotten multiple reports of murders and commotion in the area and we were sent out to investigate. Are you aware that you two seem to be the only two living people left in the town of Silent Hill?"
"Really? That's....unfortunate. We weren't aware." Vincent said, lying through his teeth but the cop didn't need to know that. "We've been out of town all day."
"Is that so? There have also been reports of two people who fit your description heading this way a few hours ago, covered in blood. Would you happen to know anything about that?"
"We work together in a butcher shop two towns over. Bloody job, working with meat, you know?" Vincent said, still lying. Heather thought it prudent to keep her mouth shut while Vincent and the officer chatted.
"I see. Are you also aware that there is only one road leading into or out of Silent Hill and it's currently blocked off?"
Vincent hissed out a "shit..." under his breath. His little lie was slowly being broken apart.
"We took a rowboat from across Toluca Lake. We don't use the road." Heather suddenly piped in, playing along with Vincent's obvious lie. "It's easier to walk to work through that way and it doesn't take as long."
Vincent let out a sigh of relief under his breath.
The officer seemed to notice Heather for the first time.
"Is that so, miss? And how old are you?" The cop asked, noticing Heather's small teenaged frame.
"24." Heather responded automatically. Vincent gave her half a look, but then did some quick math in his head and came to the conclusion that of course she'd say 24. She was seven, then was reverted back to 0, then 17, and 17 plus 7 equaled 24, so although she was 17 biologically, under the law she'd been alive for 24 years.
"Really? You don't look 24, honey. You barely look a day over 17."
"Flattering, really, um, thanks, but no, I'm 24. Would you like to see my ID?" Heather got up, but Vincent jumped up for her.
"I've got it." He rushed into the laundry room and retrieved Heather's wallet, pulling out her ID. He also grabbed his vest and shoved it over his shoulders so he wouldn't be bare from the waist up anymore. He came back into the room and handed the card to the officer.
"Alright, then...." the officer started. "Heather Mason.... we found a corpse in a South Ashfield apartment building.... a man named Harry Mason. This ID states your current address as the same apartment we found his corpse."
Heather looked at the ground, not saying another word. It was obvious the reminder of her father's murder had struck a nerve.
"That corpse was her father. He was murdered a few days ago by a random lunatic, which is why she's been staying here with me. Now, if you're done terrorizing my girlfriend...." Vincent growled, "...I think your welcome here has been worn out."
"I'm sorry, but I still have a few more questions." the officer said. "A few more and then I'll leave."
"Fine." Vincent said, going over to Heather and putting his arms around her.
"The reason I ask all of these questions is because you two are the only ones left alive in Silent Hill. Our reports were given to us anonymously and we have no idea who they are. All we have to go on is a description of a tall, well-built brunette male wearing glasses, carrying a petite blonde girl wearing an open pendant."
Heather's hands flew to her neck, where her pendant still lay open on her collarbone. She shut the pendant.
"Well, what does that have to do with anything? I told you our story already." Vincent said. It was obvious he was getting more than a little angry.
"I'm just trying to make the pieces add up, sir, it's my job to do so." The officer snapped back. "If you continue to obstruct justice this way, sir, I'll have no choice but to ask you to come with me to the station and we'll take care of the matter there."
"You know what? Just do your searching and get out. There's really nothing else you and I have to say to each other, Officer. You want the grand tour? Come along." Vincent got up and stalked out of the room, the cop close behind. Heather wrapped herself in a blanket and followed. The officer checked Heather's clothes and took a sample of the blood staining the material.
"I'll just send this to the lab when I get back to the station. Thank you, sir, and have a nice evening."
The officer finally left.
"Goddamn police." Vincent snapped after she'd left. "God, I hate authority figures."
"You probably shouldn't have lied to her, Vincent. She's going to find out we're not butchers."
"Sure we are. We've butchered plenty. She'll check that blood and figure out it's not human, and we'll be off the hook. It'll be fine."
Heather wasn't convinced. She stared out the window. "Vincent... remember when you said... 'they looked like monsters to you?' and I was surprised, but then you said it was a joke?"
"Yeah..."
"What if... you were right? What if the things I've been destroying really were just people.... People that my mind twisted into something else? Am I a murderer?"
"Don't think like that, sweetheart. Those were monsters, nothing more. Twisted, corrupt, and evil. They weren't human. You're not a murderer. I promise."
"But there were so many.... and there were no people left. You saw them too...."
"Heather, I promise, you're not a murderer. You have never taken a human being's life. This I can swear to you."
"What is she going to find, though? What kind of blood will it be? How can I explain what's been going on in this crazy town?"
"A bad hallucination brought on by the lack of sleep, stress, and the death of your father. That's all you need to say. No one has to know what really happened. It'll all be alright. Now come on, you look exhausted. You should get some sleep." Vincent said quietly, taking Heather's hand. "You can sleep in the spare room, down here on the couch, or in my room, wherever you like." He added. Heather clung to Vincent's vest, unwilling to leave him. "I take it you want to stay with me?"
Heather nodded. Vincent nodded back. "Okay then."
Vincent led her upstairs, into his room. They laid down on the bed and covered themselves up with the blanket. Vincent took off his glasses and laid them on the side table. Heather snuggled up into his chest and stayed there quietly, slowly drifting off to a restless sleep.
Chapter One Concluded