Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill or any of the characters found within. Konami and Team Silent and Akira Yamaoka do. Love them. They are amazing. Silent Hill owns me. I wrote this fanfic and story arc. There are some original characters in here, but no Mary Sues.

Warning: blood, gore, violence, disturbing themes, language, morbidity, religiously sensitive subjects, etc, etc. Anything that could be warned on the back of a Silent Hill game and more. This is M for a reason.

Author's Note: Silent Hill V: Homecoming is coming out at the end of this month. I cannot wait to play it. It looks amazing. Go check out some trailers and gameplay now. Please? The first song by Mary Elizabeth McGlynn released for SH5 has been a big inspiration for me, and fits this fic so effing well its amazing. Seriously people, check it all out.

CALLING ALL SOULS

Chapter X: Promise

The water battered him in sheets, warm blanket of liquid wrapping around him and holding him in the welcoming fluff of steam. Mark let his eyes close, head sliding back as he massaged the water through his hair, letting it tumble across his face. It felt like whole layers were peeling off him, the scalding hot treatment lifting off all the pain, the suffering, the torment. He was left with clean, pure skin, untouched, untainted if slightly red from the intensity of this ritual.

Despite the hell the rest of Silent Hill was caught in, the apartment remained untouched, a little pocket of sanity in all this madness. The bathroom was immaculately clean, toilet shining and white, linoleum tiles gleaming, shampoo and conditioner and body soap in a tidy row. Each stood in their own, frosted glass bottles, labeled by hand. Mark did not know what exactly was in each one, what the scent was, but it smelled good… and mysterious in a way.

Much like Aleister himself, the soaps were an enigma.

Mark took his time washing, lathering his hair up to a white afro of foam, and then rinsing. More layers came off, this time guilt and loathing. Letting the conditioner sit, Mark scrubbed of the grime and ash from his body, watching the shame and trepidation swirl down the drain. The calm having soaked into his hair, he removed the excess, feeling shiny and new again when he finally flicked off the water.

Steam still hovered around him like fog, Mark shivering as he opened the glass door of the shower, stepping out into the cool bathroom. There were clean towels folded and stacked in the cabinet, Mark fishing one out and drying off. He felt more awake than he had since his world came crashing down. A few days ago? A week? Mark was not sure. It all felt like one nightmare, flowing from terrifying scene to terrifying scene.

If only he could wake up, with Helen beside him in bed, and smell her hair.

As much as Mark hated it, he put his dirty clothes back on. They were all he had. Mark hadn't the time to pack before evading his fellow officers to get to Silent Hill. He buttoned his lightly blood misted shirt, smoothing it out as though that helped. He did not bother to tuck in the tails before zipping his pants and buttoning them. A tucked shirt was worthless in this place. Lastly he slung on his sturdy, leather holster, just taking note of the gun's presence, not checking it.

Slowly, reluctantly, Mark opened the bathroom door.

It was still a pristine, logical world outside that door. A lamp was glowing with a soft, white light on the table before the couch, Aleister crouched over it and a book laid out under that illumination. Mark approached slowly. The couch was low, without much of a back on it. The thing hardly looked comfortable, or used for that matter.

That was when Mark noticed the gun.

It was tucked into the back of Aleister's pants, handle sticking up and to the left, for someone who was left-handed to quickly grab. Mark lifted his own hands, feeling the gun secure and cold beneath his left arm. A shaky sigh of relief, near silent, filtered through his lips. It was a wonder Mark had not noticed Aleister's gun before, considering it suck up a little onto that white dress shirt, a stark contrast.

As nervous as it made him, Mark tried hiding it, edging around the couch before sitting down. He leaned over, looking at the book.

The text looked old, really old, the pages yellowed, some brown in spots even, the ink faded. It looked like most of it had been hand written, all of it, actually, the diagrams drawn by hand. Mark couldn't understand it, though. It was talking about God being born again and creating Paradise and all of these things that did not sound like the kind of church Mark went to back in the city. Religion was different here. Mark wondered if that had been influenced by the nightmare Silent Hill was caught in.

Aleister was so engrossed in his reading that he didn't even seem to notice Mark's joining him; either that, or he didn't call. Mark took this time to look up, letting his gaze scrape over the long bookshelf. It spanned from floor to ceiling, every space crammed with a book. It was like a personal library in there. With how untouched, unlived in everything seemed, Mark never would have expected such an expansive library. It must not have been used often. Mark thought it a waste.

Standing, Mark made his ways to the rows and rows of old, musty books. It even smelled like an ancient library in there, not that Mark had been to many to know. The university library was the oldest one he had been in, and it had the same smell. Mark touched the binding of one. The title was indented into the leather, and then the letters were painted over to make them pop a bit more. It worked. Mark did not recognize any of the names. Wait, there was one. Dante's Inferno.

Leaving the books alone, Mark walked for the window, pulling up the blinds. It was near twilight out there, caught somewhere between night and day. Fog sat heavy over the front courtyard of the apartments, Mark barely able to make out the large iron gates keeping them secluded from the main street. It was a wonder that he could see anything at all.

"Did you go to school here?"

Mark turned. Aleister closed his book, dark eyes trained on the detective. It felt like a loaded question. "Yeah." He closed the blinds, apartment feeling darker afterwards though still untouched by the taint. "I graduated high school here." That was over ten years ago. He could barely remember it, remember Silent Hill, both veiled in the same fog which covered the town now.

"Do you remember… Alessa?"

That name…

Sun filtered down into the central courtyard, reflecting off the leaves, glittering on the massive tower of the clock. He laughed, running a wide circle around it, spinning before falling on one of the grassy patches. It was recess, beloved recess. The other children were playing, having fun. All but one. Mark looked up, seeing him against the far wall, legs drawn up. His eyes were red and puffy, short black hair messy.

Getting up, Mark walked over, sitting next to him. "What's wrong, Stanly?"

The boy's lip wobbled, but he didn't say anything. Normally Stanly was with Alessa; they were inseparable. She was not as school today. The teachers seemed nervous. Was it about the fire? Mark had seen something about a fire on the news.

Bells chimed the end of recess, and the class lined up, Sister Trevelli taking the roll. Mark waved his hand and exclaimed "here!" after his name was called. After "Alessa Gillespie" there was silence, and Stanly flinched. Sister Trevelli finally got down the alphabet, calling "Aleister Stanly", and he just stood there, staring at his feet.

"We went to school together." Mark took the time to actually study Aleister now. He had changed a lot. His rounded face was not lean and defined, though just as pale as it had been. His short cropped hair now brushed his shoulders. Those green eyes were just as dark. Ever since that day Alessa stopped coming, Aleister started fading away, vanishing entirely at some point. Mark hadn't even thought about it.

"You asked me when all of this started." Aleister was returning the book to the shelf. He had gotten really tall and strong over the years, though lean. Mark had noticed that part while Aleister dealt with the valves. "The fire at the Gillespie house was the very beginning, for me at least."

Mark nodded. He did not understand, but he nodded.

"A man came here almost seventeen years ago. He took Alessa with him." Aleister hovered by the bookshelf, slender fingers still on the book he just replaced. There was a distant look in those green eyes. It was almost wistful. "After that, all hell broke loose."

"I don't remember it being that bad." Not anything like this, at least. Mark traced his finger across the window sill; there was not even dust. He had a feeling that Alessa had something to do with this: the change in Silent Hill, the untouched apartment, everything. What and how, Mark had no clue, but his hunches were usually right. This couldn't be an exception.

Aleister shook his head, long strides carrying him to a door jutting out from the room other than that of the bathroom. He paused, only for a moment, speaking into the door rather than glancing back, "There aren't many safe places left in town. I suggest you sleep now while you can." With that he vanished through the door, locking it behind him.

There was nothing to do but settle down on the couch and finally sleep.

The halls were changing as she walked. The wan lights above gave a final shudder, giving out, plunging the asylum halls into blackness. Sydney stopped, broken tiles crunching under her shoes. Twisting, she fished through her bag, pulling out the massive bulk of the flashlight and turning it on. The wide beam illuminated only a small path, showing brown tiles where grey had been moments ago. She turned the beam, raking it over wallpaper which looked like it was crying, streaks of browns and oranges running down it. Shifting the beam upward, she watched as the lights were coiled around by chain and rusted barbed wire.

She had to get out of here.

Now.

Turning, she dashed back down the hall, flashlight beam bouncing, catching dark red seeping like blood from outlets, fronts of lockers peeling away to corroded wire mesh. She slammed into the far double doors. They rattled, but did not budge. Sydney hit them again. Nothing. The handle was covered in metal thorns, Sydney biting her lip as she closed her hand on it, pulling, pushing. The doors were locked. She was trapped.

There was only one way to go, and that was further in.

Was this what her mother had been talking about by weird?

This was beyond weird.

Sydney backed away from the door, wiping her bloody hand off on her jeans. The hall was completely different now, a hellish parallel to the abandonment of moments ago. Her first thought was to find somewhere safe, to hide.

Click… drag… click… drag…

Static crackled on her phone, faint, but noticeable in the oppressive silence. Rounding the corner, the buzz and whir of static from her phone intensified. She lifted the flashlight.

The beam hit a faded white dress, buttons yellowed, sweat and grime clinging to the fabric. She lowered the light some. One heel was broken, that foot dragging, scraping across the uneven floor. The other heel was intact, clicking with every awkward, pigeon-toed step. A hypodermic needle full of some clear-ish fluid hung at ready in twisted, gnarled fingers. Sydney found herself staring at its face. The body was unmistakably female, but the face! The face was warped, a mound of burned and mutilated flesh, no distinguishable features on it other than a dirty nurses hat perched on top.

It was lurching towards her, twitching, gasping, moaning in its tormented walk.

Sydney ran back around the corner, turning the light off and clutching it to her. She held her breath, phone's static growing louder with the moment. Click… drag… click… drag… It rounded the corner, passing so close to Sydney it rustled the loose strands of hair around her face, made her nose crinkle at its putrid stench. Sydney could hear its short, pained breaths. It continued down the hall, passing through the open nurses' station. Sydney crept around the corner, only turning her flashlight on again once she had traveled a few feet.

The static faded, hall empty again, though in no way less nightmarish. She didn't feel safer as she shuffled along, breathing clipped, hands trembling. There was no more shuffle click shuffle click. That had been a nurse at some time. Sydney could feel it. She was not sure when, or what happened, but that had been a woman once upon a time, a respectable member of society. Sydney felt bad for her.

There was only one door unlocked down that stretch of hall, Sydney yanking the door open, hurrying in. Her shaking fingers found a latch, twisting it, locking herself in and that nurse creature out.

A long hall with metal doors on either side, closed, looking locked (though Sydney couldn't be sure until she tried), stretched out in front of her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to try those doors. They looked like cells, standing menacingly all around her. Sydney started forward, trying to hold her flashlight steady, each step crunching though she tried to walk light. It was failing, despite years of ballet helping her keep her balance on the precarious floor.

Approaching slowly, she pushed herself up on tiptoes, holding the hot flashlight up by her cheek to shine it in through the small, rectangular window on a door. There was a form sitting against the back wall, with straps bound tight around its torso, holding its arms around its ribs. Narrowing her eyes, Sydney continued to stare. Its face was in the same state at the nurse's, only it had a mouth, wide and open, like it was screaming constantly without sound. There was a faint crackle from her phone, but nothing more. It twitched, head lulling to the side beneath the beam of her light. All of that which incased it, Sydney had thought a straight jacket, but it was skin, translucent skin with veins and bruises shining through everywhere.

Swallowing back the bitter of bile, Sydney moved away from that door, checking the next one down. The same was in this one, too, though it was up, walking an awkward stagger, with no real arms or torso distinguished on its body, just those straps holding all that sickly flesh in place. Its legs bowed in upon one another, meeting at the knees and fanning outward from there, like a giraffe learning to walk. Sydney kept moving down the hall, barely pausing.

Stopping, blinking, Sydney moved back to the last door. She shined the light in. The person within looked to the side, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the light. The woman groaned. It was an actual woman. Sydney tried the door. It was locked. There was no latch, only a keyhole. Smiling, Sydney spoke in a hushed whisper.

"Hello? Are you alright?"

The woman nodded, struggling up the back padded wall of the cell before walking lopsidedly, like those creatures, towards the door. Soon she was leaning up against it, face right at that window. She had short dark hair and chapped, cracked lips, but forced a smile anyway. "Surviving."

That made Sydney laugh, if only briefly. She turned on the flashlight, only a dim and flickering light coming from inside that cell, from the swinging light bulb. "Where are the keys kept for the cells?"

The pale oval of the woman's face lifted upwards, dark eyes thoughtful. Then she smiled again, as though she had just seen exactly what she was looking for, and harbored that secret information. It made a shiver run up Sydney's spine, despite herself. "The director of the hospital keeps all the keys in his office."

Flipping out her cell phone, she scrolled over the picture she had taken of the map, marking on it as she went which doors were locked. "The door to the main foyer is locked."

"You can go upstairs and work through the treatment rooms to get to the other side of the hospital, and go to the main floor from there, or you can go downstairs into the basement and take the hallway across into the male wards and to the main room."

Sydney confirmed on her map, nodding. She marked the director's office with a little red circle, not bothering to memorize the route. She would just use the map she had taken a picture of as much as needed. It was a good resolution camera, anyway. No details were lost.

"I'll be back." Sydney spoke her promise, looking down each dark direction of the hallway. The woman inside smiled at her, and inched to the back of her cell. Even as Sydney turned away, pushing the button on her flashlight again, she could hear that wan voice drifting into the hall behind her.

"They are attracted to the light."

Nodding, Sydney kept on her way. She would remember to use that to her advantage.