For the record, Chapter nine was posted on February 20, 2013. This document was uploaded for finishing touches at 1:45am July 22, 2015. I have no excuses. (Especially since I then noticed two really dumb, obvious typos, now fixed.)

The story (not the writing, the story itself) is moving slower than I had hoped. And I had to include a gratuitous cameo to get back into a flow. The original version of this chapter was much different - you can ask Feriku, if she's still active. I hope you like this anyway.

Also, when I did my research for this I decided to deliberately ignore something off the SH wiki. Can you spot it?

Additional note: February 29 2016: Seriously wondering if I will ever finish this story.

AN the third: If I do finish chapter 11, I have half a mind to delete this account and start fresh by reposting this story on a new one.

It'll be fine. The only way it could go wrong is if you want it to go wrong. If you see anyone, don't ask any stupid questions. Don't ask about Walter; if they want to talk about him just let them say their piece. Don't talk back to them. Just keep your mouth shut; you're good at that.

And remember - this is a million times better than the alternative.

Things had been good that week; even better than Angela had realized, it seemed. At work even her boss, who would only grudgingly admit that this strange woman at least could get her job done, mentioned off-hand she seemed a lot happier than usual. Thinking back, she hadn't had this much going on with her life since Jessica first set her up in Ashfield and she had to prove herself.

Not to say she wasn't still a little anxious; it was almost a full week between her last impromptu dinner with James and the new one they set up. But she could be patient. She did still call him a couple times that week to check up, but he didn't seem to mind. And to top it all off Liz didn't flunk any of her classes that semester after all, so there was one less thing to piss Jessica off too.

And then that Friday she called up James to talk about their dinner the following night. He had the carne asada marinating, but he was going to wait until tomorrow to get everything else, and he figured he should take her along when he went to the farmer's market in Kirkgate. Did she want to meet up at his apartment?

Kirkgate. She didn't want to go into the details - maybe another day she'd be ready to share the full story with James - but she got the message across to James that she wouldn't be comfortable going there again. And James was understanding, as usual, but he didn't really have a better idea. He had some business to take care of earlier that day with Mary's brother, and he knew another store he'd be close to, but he wasn't so sure Angela would want to tag along.

James didn't flat out refuse to let her tag along - maybe he just hoped the ground rules he laid out might scare her off. He had heard everything there was to say about 4S, and he wasn't sure exactly what Angela had heard, but he knew there was at least a little truth to the good work they claimed to do. The important thing, however, was that Mary's family was involved with them, so the last thing he wanted was for her to pester everyone with awkward questions about "The Order." Angela agreed; she liked to think that maybe things weren't as bad as people made them out to be, and maybe she didn't see the full picture, but maybe James could help her learn more.

Then, as an afterthought, James suggested that they probably shouldn't come to the 4S building together. He didn't want to leave anyone under the wrong impression. They could just meet up later, outside. Again, Angela thought it sounded like a good idea and planned to arrive near the end of James' meeting.

And so here she was, having followed James' directions and arrived at the 4S office that wasn't. That was the first thing that worried her; that tall angular ceiling made the building look a bit like a church, but she wasn't quite sure. Then she went into the building, following the signs in the lobby that read "atrium/museum" into what clearly was once some sort of old stone worship hall. The back half of the hall had been partitioned off, apparently for that CPR class that the noticeboard in the lobby said was going on today, but they left a narrow pathway to the side which one small sign noted lead to the "chapel." Apparently they felt they needed a separate chapel in their repurposed church, and they didn't seem to be going out of their way to invite visitors to have a look.

Well, I guess if there's a church that, somehow, isn't being used anymore, it would be a waste to tear it down. Still...who are these people?

She turned back to the doors she came in by, flanked by the display cases she had looked over when she first walked in, and with some paintings, sketches and blown up photographs on the walls. It's worth a look, I guess. They wouldn't call it a museum for nothing, would they?

There was a slightly older couple checking out the exhibits to Angela's left - no one she recognized, but she still decided to start on her right and give them all the space they could want. She started with the pictures; the closest one was one of the old Toluca Prison she recognized at twenty feet away from an old history book. Once she got in close she moved on to the sketch that preceded it, which was apparently one of the older Toluca prison camp of the War of 1812, then to the map of the old colonial town.

Then she hit the painting. Well, it looked like a printed reproduction of a real painting, a little less grand then they might have been going for, but still fairly impressive. It looked like some sort of medieval or renaissance painting of a saint...but she didn't know of a Saint Jennifer.

"Now, this esteemed young woman..."

The words came seemingly from out of nowhere, and with that slight echo the church gave it took Angela a second to realize the man who spoke them was talking to her.

She spun around. Well, from a distance that man, with his dull brown vest and slacks ensemble, looked older than he really was. The stubble and his unkempt hair - if she thought she had any authority on the matter Angela might call it unfashionable - also helped. But there wasn't a trace of gruffness in his voice.

That was good. One less thing to remind her of him. It was bad enough a man was hassling her out of the blue like this.

Then, after he casually adjusted his glasses, he turned his gaze to the portrait. No, Angela reassured herself, he wasn't rambling on about her. He took a step towards her, then asked, a little more discreetly than before "Do you know how she died?"

Angela shook her head. That wasn't even close to anything she had been thinking about.

"No, I didn't think you would. It's close to the stories you've heard in your history classes...but this one has a little twist."

The man held out a hand for Angela to take. She didn't.

But it didn't phase him that much as he continued. "When Jennifer Carroll's grandparents left England for the new world, they said it was for the freedom to worship God as they believed. Sounds very noble, doesn't it? But they weren't interested in freedom for everyone...just for themselves...as they believed."

He began slowly making his way down the display cases; Angela wasn't too quick to close the distance, just taking a few steps when needed to hear his tale. "And our cherished Pilgrims...when they came to this new land, they and the locals didn't see eye to eye. I suppose you already knew that, but the natives of this area were something else entirely. Now, far be it from me to judge, but I understand how these cultures could clash so violently..."

The man glanced down at one of the cases, noting, almost under his breath, "What can seem so normal, some of us can see as an abomination."

She walked over to take a look herself. The contents didn't look too special at first; a corroded green copper...arrowhead? No, it was too big. Then she saw the picture set beside it: a man splayed over an altar as another man stabbed him in the chest.

"We don't know what exactly happened to the natives in this story, but perhaps that says all we need to know. That sort of thing wasn't going to make them a lot of friends anywhere. But they didn't disappear entirely. Some of their other ideas took root among the settlers. It's the story of America, isn't it? The old and new worlds colliding to create something brilliant!"

He paused. "Or...maybe it had more to do with that town. When they landed, they knew there was something special about it. They said God had led them there...but they didn't know the half of it!"

"But the leaders of this town...they didn't agree." The man furled his brow, but that grin of his stayed. "They forced the new believers underground, forced them to deny what they had learned, but they knew that wasn't going to be enough to save them. They needed to make an example! And when Jennifer, a woman, challenged them..."

Now he got in close, almost pinning her against the display. "They took her into town, told her that she would hang for witchcraft! But maybe, if she would tell them who else didn't believe as they did, they might be merciful. And when she refused, they tied her to stakes in the ground, laid a wooden door over her body..."

But as he inched in even more, it finally became unbearable. Maybe Angela could cope with this man at a distance; let him stare into her soul for a sign of weakness to his heart's content, and gleefully recall as many horrible deaths as he could remember. But now, with his face nearly pressing against hers, and his hands...

In a moment, she found herself shoving weakly into his chest, just enough to put him at arms' length again. She slowly stepped away, looking first at the man, startled and finally at a loss for words, then to the woman who was now standing to her right. There was no mistaking her - her old-fashioned red dress had been just as recognizable across the hall - and she looked quite shocked at the way she had treated her friend.

"What are you doing? Father Vincent, are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I just..." He sighed and turned back to Angela, the energy in his voice finally spent, "I just get a little carried away sometimes. It happens to all of us, doesn't it?" Then without skipping a beat he turned back to the other woman in his audience. "We'll be fine. Tell Claudia not to wait up for me...I'm sure she'll understand the importance of a little...outreach."

The woman left without a word, but with a somewhat dissatisfied groan under her breath.

'Vincent' waited until she was out of earshot before he continued. "I guess what I'm getting as is...it's just so nice that, for the most part, we can all get along now, isn't it?"

It's gonna be okay. Just...think of him as the tour guide. That's what he's comfortable with. And as for what you just did...that's not going to put him down.

"What's your name? And what brings you here today?" He asked.

"My name's Angela, and..." for a moment, she considered the first answer that came to mind, and decided it was close enough to the truth. "I don't really know why I'm here."

"The name's Vincent. Don't forget it, okay?" Yes, she remembered. Still, if his stylish introduction was that important to him, she'd let it pass.

"You're from that church in Silent Hill, aren't you? I used to live there when I was a kid...but I didn't know much about it."

"I suppose your parents didn't approve of us, huh?"

"It...never came up." Yes, time to change the subject. "But I didn't know anyone who knew much about you."

"And you came here to learn, right?" Vincent clasped his hands. "Ah, a woman after my own heart!"

And then he slowly folded his arms. "Or just telling me exactly what I want to hear, waiting for me to do the same for whoever sent you."

And so she was left with him and his grimly satisfied smirk staring her down. What could she say to allay his suspicions? What was the point of even trying? What sort of revelation could she even expect anyway?

But just as she took a step away..."It's okay Angela. I know exactly who I should be on the lookout for...if the media even cares about us anymore. And you don't seem to be the type with the patience for those sorts of games."

She had a glance at her watch. 3:48 - just enough time for the Cliff Notes version of this somewhat-harmless "Father's" sermon, hopefully. It wasn't like she had anything else to do.

"There's not much to say really, if you're just passing through. I'd like to think we're just like everyone else: we believe in a God that created us. She-" Vincent paused, suppressing a chortle. "Yes, you heard me right, 'she' - watches over us, and one day, eventually, she will come back. In the meantime, we're just trying to get the word out, and maybe, if we can, make the world a better place for her when she gets back."

She crossed her arms. She'd play along...but only a little. "God's a woman? Okay...I guess that makes me feel a little special. But, how do you know?"

Another chortle from Vincent. "Oh, the things I've seen...you know there's something special about Silent Hill, don't you? You should come back when you have the time. The things we could show you..."

"I'm...I don't think I'm that interested."

Vincent waited a moment before giving a frustrated sigh. "No. I know what you're thinking Angela, but we're not interested in that. The last thing our church needs now is another PTV-popping maniac who thinks they have all the answers. You...you seem like a nice person. A little nervous, but that's okay. We all have a lot to learn."

Angela turned her eyes back to the watch. 3:50 - sooner than she would have liked, but James would understand. "I'll...think about it. I'm sorry Vincent, but I need to be going soon."

"No problem." He adjusted his glasses again. "I know I can be a bit of a pill before you get to know me. Tell you what Angela, when you come back, ask for Catherine. She's the woman you got to speak to earlier; I'll let her know you don't bite. You could even talk to Claudia if you wanted. I wouldn't recommend it, but...to each her own."

"Thanks" she quickly spat out as she turned to leave.

But she had barely made it to the church doors when she heard his voice again. "And tell James that, whatever his brother-in-law has been telling him, he's welcome here too."

Stopped in her tracks, she turned a little to get a better look from over her shoulder. Somehow, Vincent was right there behind her.

"How...how did you know..."

"I wasn't quite sure...not until you told me, anyway."

Well, score a few more points for what James called the 'crazy' theory regarding Mary's family.

He had no idea what exactly he was getting into when he started dating Mary. At first, her family seemed so...was 'respectable' the right word for it? Well, parts of the story deserved it anyway. Adam was a hero - there were no other words for it. And James had never heard any horror stories about law and order in Shepherd's Glen.

Somehow, despite his and Mary's efforts, he never fit in. Sometimes he wondered if Mary really fit in herself; they were proud of what she was doing, setting herself up to help other people, but the vibe James got was that Mary's decision to study medicine took them by surprise, and they only went along with it because it seemed a natural fit for the 'fairer sex.'

Mary tried to get him involved in family activities, and they all went along with it. She was a dying woman, after all. It didn't help much; they were polite, but it was obvious they were disappointed with the man Mary had fallen for. Still, he always got the feeling that they were keeping some sort of secret from him. Mary couldn't - or rather, wouldn't - help him on that front. She was very evasive on any subject that came close to a family secret, and always knew just what to say to keep James from pressing the matter.

There were two reasons James called it the 'crazy' theory. First, it seemed absurd. James knew Mary's family had some ties to Silent Hill, and he had read the rumors about some sort of omnipresent secret drug-running cult even before the 'Ripper' made the front page. But the old-fashioned Shepherds involved in the occult? Mary had always been respectful of what remained of James' faith, and she never gave him reason to suspect anything strange about her.

The second reason for the name, of course, was the implications this theory had if it was true.

And this meeting hadn't gone too well. He thought he was just going down to discuss Mary's 'treatment,' for whatever the hell it was worth anymore, but first Adam let the spokeswoman of the Silent Hill Smile Support Society, and her chipper friend, say their piece about how sorry they were about James' loss, how much their organization meant to his wife, and how they would be there for him. Her friend, however, was the one to insinuate that, at this point in his life, perhaps he might find some meaning or purpose with them. He would be helping a good cause, after all.

After that, James didn't waste much more time there. He told Adam that, assuming Mary agreed as well, he didn't think there would be a problem with the latest proposed treatment...whatever it was. And Adam said he was going to be the one to discuss it with Mary the next day.

And so James walked out to the 4S building's parking lot with a feeling a relief. And it wasn't just to be out of there; now he had an excuse not to visit - or, as he thought of it, bother - Mary.

And what a visit it would have been. You never told me anything about this. How exactly would you explain it anyway?

He knew the answer. She wouldn't. She'd probably get mad at him for accusing her of lying to him. And of all the times to start an argument with her...

Thankfully, he was in the clear for the rest of the weekend. Wait by the car for a few minutes, and if Angela's running late just circle the block until you see her. She can wait a little bit without freaking out, right?

James didn't have to wait. He missed her the first time he passed by his car, his attention drawn to the sidewalks surrounding the building instead. But when he turned around again he caught a glimpse of her in his peripheral vision.

Yes, there she was, sitting in the fetal position besides his driver's door, hidden between his car and the one beside it.

"James, I...I..." He only got a brief look at her terrified face, eyes a little red, before she hid it away in her hands.

As James knelt down beside her he could hear her weeping, presumably not the first time she had done so in the past few minutes. "I'm sorry James! I don't know how he found out! I promise! I didn't tell him anything!"

"What? Angela, what happened?"

"I don't know how, but he knew! He knew we knew each other! He knew we were meeting here!" She peeked her face back up, her eyes filled with tears. "I swear I didn't tell him anything, but somehow he knew!"

He stood by, dumfounded, not even having enough time to try and guess exactly who 'he' was before she started crying again. And James put his arms around her; no doubt he was making a spectacle of himself, but there wasn't much else to do.