So while writing this chapter I clicked "Save" and had an internet hiccup and lost everything (I write directly into the Edit Document screen on ffnet). So I used a hex editor to hack my system memory to retrieve the lost data.

Because when it comes to fanfiction, one must spare nothing!


When the sun left the horizon, the sky went black almost instantaneously. Loud air raid sirens blared over Toluca lake. The ambient volume of the air rose behind it, a tide of rushing black fervor crested by a cacophony of screams, roars, rattling chains, shrieking metal, and moans.

Alex and Heather were still on the lake when the water began to bubble and churn. Then the lighthouse came on, bright, beautiful, golden. The rotating beam cut a swath through the fog; as it turned, it left an open sphere of clean air in its wake. Alex tossed Heather a paddle and the two rowed violently the last couple yards, gliding into the safe zone as hands clawed against the sides and bottom of their rowboat.

They entered the lighthouse's embrace safely; the hands did not pursue.

When they reached the dock, Alex jumped out first and the two of them tied up the rowboat. They said nothing to one another as they approached the front door, where Michael Kaufmann was nervously awaiting them. He opened the door and hurried them in to where Lisa had prepared supper for four. Alex gave the physician a grateful nod, but Heather's vision was so narrow that she scarcely seemed to notice him at all. Both men watched her in concern as she deftly stripped off her outdoor ware, arranged her shoes, hung up her coat and scarf, leaned her submachine gun up against the nearest parlor couch, and then headed into the kitchen. Lisa smiled at her uncertainly.

Kaufmann looked up at the soldier with a, "What happened?"

"We saved Elle, but for some reason Heather can't leave," Alex explained. "And... we lost Valtiel in the process."

"You what?"

Alex looked at the psychiatrist. "You're sure this place is safe? I've never seen anywhere like it in Silent Hill before..."

"I'm sure. Come, let's... let's eat, and you can explain."

"Does your secretary know what's going on?"

"I've explained it to her, but she's halfway between shock and disbelief."


Their dinner was chicken cordon bleu with tossed vegetables and mashed potatoes. Lisa, the cook responsible for so much culinary goodness, was very quiet as Alex related the happenings of the day from his perspective. Kaufmann listened to the story in full before turning to look at an unusually quiet Heather Mason.

"Heather...?"

She didn't respond or look up from her plate. Alex frowned because Heather had been very articulate only an hour previous. Beside him, Kaufmann reasoned she was in the middle of an emotional crash. He was also trying to decipher what the loss of the Metatron meant.

Kaufmann tried talking to her again. "Heather, we ought to discuss why you are still here. The winter days are short and you only have so many hours of sunlight; you will need some idea which areas to explore come morning. "

Heather Mason kept eating. The Seal of the Metatron weighed heavily in her pocket. Too much had happened that day, and her insides were frozen in exhausted panic at the thought of recounting or trying to understand any of them. The door, the Seal, the room, the scrolls, Valtiel... She set down her steak knife and ran a hand through her hair. Residual black oil came off on her fingertips, and she looked at it.

Kaufman frowned. "Heather... Did the Pyramid creature touch you?"

She pressed her lips into a thin smile. Something in her snapped- just a little- and her frustration channeled itself into a nasty little barb. "Oh yes. Quite provocatively at that," she drawled a little smugly. "Wrapped its tongue around my neck to taste me and pawed at its skirt to undo the belt buckles."

Alex stiffened, settling down his fork and staring at her, his face unreadable. She didn't see the gesture, or it might have stopped her from continuing.

"I laughed at it and scolded it till it walked away. Maybe it was Alex's sexual frustration, and it couldn't handle the humiliation." Silence answered her as she stabbed a piece of broccoli and at it; She finished, licked her lips, and then looked at Kaufmann and propped her arms on the tabletop. "I've a better idea. How about you tell me why you are in Silent Hill, first?"

The doctor remained quiet a moment, silverware forgotten. "You look overwhelmed," he noted.

Heather laughed. "I'm done for the evening, doctor. I'm eating my dinner, and then I'm going to bed."

Kaufmann frowned and breathed in as if to protest. Heather's eyes narrowed.

"White Claudia," she said sharply.

The doctor stiffened as if he'd just been stabbed, and all color flushed from his face. Heather watched him with an almost predatory intensity. He held her gaze for a moment, and then he looked away in shame and picked up his wine glass with a shaking hand. "We'll wait till tomorrow," he agreed, and drank the wine in honor of his last night as a living man.

Silence permeated the room for a moment. Then Lisa Garland stood up. "What aren't you telling me?" she asked in an accusatory voice, looking from Heather to Kaufmann. The doctor jumped in surprise. Alex furrowed his brow.

"I thought you had already told her about the Otherworld?" the younger man asked.

"I..." Kaufmann hesitated.

"Go on," Heather cooed sweetly, her voice edged and almost violent. "Why don't you tell her why you're both really here? Why don't you tell her why she doesn't look her age, or how she knew my father?"

The doctor looked at her in surprised; things were moving too fast for him to follow all of a sudden. "Heather," he murmured, trying to recollect his wits. "Don't. You're not yourself-"

The room seemed to grow a little darker, but perhaps it was just the look on Not-Quite-Heather's face. "Don't?" she uttered in vicious disbelief. "You were there. Didn't you hear me plead the same? Do you think saving your own ass with that herb was penance enough? Or didn't miss Garland show you otherwise?"

Kaufmann's eyes widened, and he shrunk down into his seat, uttering weakly, "Alessa-!"

It took neither psychic nor psychiatrist to realize something had gone south; Alex darted to his feet, coming up behind Heather and wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders. "Heather Mason," he whispered in her ear, and kissed her.

The woman in question jumped slightly, as if startled out of some waking nightmare. She blinked in sad fear for several heartbeats, then gripped her silverware tightly, digging her fingernails into the decorative molding, ducked her head a little, and looked miserably down at her food.

"What. Is Going. On!?" the table shook as Lisa Garland stood up and slammed her palms flat against the dining room table, demanding some explanation for all the mysterious talk. Everyone looked to her, even Heather, but no one spoke. "Well?!" she demanded. "What are you all hiding from me? You think I can't take it? You think I can't handle myself? What is going on!?"

"You're dead, Lisa," Heather said quietly. "You and Kaufmann were both devoured by the Otherworld. You're ghosts, tied to this place. You're both dead. "

The secretary jerked back as if struck. "That- that can't- no! What are you talking about? That makes no sense! I'm not dead-" she had caught sight of Kaufmann's gray expression and pleading eyes. "No," she whimpered. "I'm not dead. No one's dead... I..."

Heather watched her quietly, a pained and resigned look on her face. "You were a nurse addicted to White Claudia. Kaufmann was its purveyor and by leveraging the drug against you, he convinced you to take care of an extremely burnt little girl in the depths of the hospital. That girl was Alessa Gillespie. You died when her nightmare turned almost everyone and everything into monsters."

Lisa had been stepping back away from the dining table, shaking her head.

"That's how my father Harry Mason met you," Heather explained. "You were still manifested in Silent Hill. And as a monster, you killed Kaufmann right before he was able to leave."

Lisa turned and bolted from the room. The dining hall was silent. Alex watched after the fleeing woman in pity and disbelief and then slowly looked back down at Heather; She was staring after Lisa Garland's departure with an agonized look on her face. Alex shook his head and then looked at the doctor questioningly. Kaufmann nodded quietly.

"Then why the hell do you exist?" the soldier demanded keeping an arm protectively on Heather's shoulder.

Kaufmann looked at his hands in his lap for a moment, before shrugging helplessly up at Alex Shepherd. "One theory is that we are here to help her."

"One 'theory'?" Alex asked, moving around the table, from Heather to Kaufmann.

"Heather needed a psychiatrist and couldn't find one who would be gentle with her. So she made one. Out of the spare parts that were lying around."

"She never chose any of this!" Alex disagreed angrily.

"Silent Hill only cares about the subconscious, and Heather has strong ties to this place. By the time she visited me, she was causing Harry Mason to manifest. It is not so strange to think she simultaneously manifested me; that doing so was a subconscious effort to save herself."

"Then you aren't real," Alex observed. "You're it's creation."

Kaufmann leaned forward on his hands again, looking at Heather, "This lighthouse is also your creation, Heather."

The blonde looked at him slowly, eyes sad.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alex snarled.

The doctor took a deep breath, "Every survivor, every victim of Silent Hill who escapes... Their hell is created from their subconscious, and yet somehow each Otherworld always contains enough ammunition, enough open doors, enough weapons, enough first aids kits, for them to escape."

The soldier frowned at him, not quite understanding.

"That comes from their will to heal, to survive, to become better. I am a tool. Like a crowbar, a shotgun, a first aid kit, or an open door. I am a registered mental health professional with unique insight into the human subconscious and also therefore the mechanisms of Silent Hill. Heather, I have helped you before, and I will do it now." He reached for his glass of wine and took a shaky sip, trying to regain some semblance of normality for what might possibly be his last real dinner. "Whether I am real... or not real," he added.

"You called me Alessa," Heather whispered.

Kaufmann looked up at her. "I suppose most tools can't feel fear," he lowered his gaze again, "but I am keenly aware of my own transience. And my past sins. You should get some sleep, both of you. The days will not get easier."

"Why should we trust you to help us?" Alex asked suspiciously. "We can rarely trust real people not to drown or immolate us."

Heather shook her head, setting down her eating implements and touching her partner's arm. "There's no black and white here. We have him, and he's behaved altruistically towards us. That's all we've got. That's all we'll get." She looked at Kaufmann. "I'm not her, and I don't hate you."

The doctor looked to her quickly. His eyes were focused with some intense and clearly painful emotion. When she stood up, walked away from Alex Shepherd, and pulled the older man into a hug, it was all Michael Kaufmann could do not to burst into tears.

Ave Maria.


Eileen had unclasped her seat belt and was twisted around in her seat to fuss with Elle Holloway's blankets. So when Henry Townshend slammed on the breaks, he also threw an arm across her and kept her from flying into the windshield.

"Henry!" she cried out in surprise, a little startled but unharmed. Then she realized her husband was very tense, and a slightly blank look of mild revulsion was on his face. Confused, Eileen twisted about in her seat.

A Robbie the Rabbit doll was perched in the middle of the highway. "Robbie!" Eileen exclaimed, quickly popping open the passenger seat and rushing out to scoop up the doll. Henry flinched and scrambled out of the vehicle after her, looking rapidly around for any potential threat or low-lying cloud. She didn't notice, but he was shaking. "How did you get out here?" she wondered, examining the doll and realizing that it was her own. "It must have fallen out of the back of the car somehow..."

"Eileen," Henry croaked, "please get back in the car."

Eileen glanced back at him, looked at the doll in confusion, and then shrugged and hurried back to the doll with it under arm. Henry watched her as intensely as a bird of prey might watch its next meal. "What's that?" he asked her as she came near. Eileen blinked down at the doll and then realized there was a piece of paper tucked in its suspender pocket. She pulled it out in bewilderment and turned it over.

"An old post card, I think. I wonder how it got in here? Tol... Toluca Lighthouse..."

Henry looked up at her face, down at the doll, then up at her again. "In the car," he pleaded. She nodded and got in on the passenger side, as he got in on the driver's. He locked the doors as soon as she was inside, took a glance back at Elle, and then stared blankly ahead at the road for a moment. When he finally grabbed for the stick shift, he threw the car into reverse.

"Henry?" Eileen asked in confusion. Her husband executed a three point turn, till their car was pointed back towards Silent Hill. He hesitated a moment. Eileen looked down at the postcard and then back up at him. "Where are we going?"

"The lighthouse," he said aloud. He nodded to himself and then pushed the gear shift to drive.

"Heather told us to rally everyone. What if it sucks us in?"

He picked up her cell phone and handed it to her. "Start texting."


Alex guided Heather upstairs to their bedroom with an arm around her shoulders. She walked slowly with her eyes focused off into memories. When they had entered the room, he wrapped both arms tightly around her and gathered her into a tight hug. The gesture lured her partially out of her malaise and she blinked up at him wearily. "Alex?" she ventured.

"For coming back to me," he explained quietly. Heather shuddered. The day seemed to fall down on her shoulders like an incredible, amorphous, suffocating weight. She sagged into his embraced, her face buried gratefully against his chest, and oozed her arms about his midsection. "What happened down there?" he asked. "You weren't yourself for a moment."

"Alex... it's like..." Heather took in a shaky breath, then stilled when she felt a hand caress gently over her hair. This was a strange and novel sensation; to be in the early stages of despair, and to have another human being touch her affectionately. Even though Alex Shepherd had been sharing the same bed with her for almost a week; even though Valtiel had lived with her for months; physical contact remained an alien but pleasant surprise.

Humans needed to be touched, she thought. And the Townshends were right; she carried far too many burdens alone.

"Sometimes I feel like I know the answers to why certain things happen. They're just hovering there, outside of my vision, and if I turned my head quickly to the side I'd see them. And... and I need to know the answers. But they're so overwhelming, so mind-blowing, that if I managed to catch sight of one of them it would shatter me. And I'm just so tired just thinking about them... I'm so tired of half-knowing things that terrify me... I just want to go and sleep somewhere away from them for awhile..."

Arms tightened around her. A shudder, not of fear, but perhaps of laughter rippled through Alex Shepherd. Confused, Heather opened her eyes to see the man
smiling at her.

"So you do have soft spots after all?" he asked her mirthfully. "Well, I'm relieved."

"What...?"

"I was beginning to think I was unnecessary," he teased, ducking his head to kiss her face.

An initially pained, but steadily relaxing smile managed its way onto Heather Mason's face. "So you're saying I jeopardize your feelings of manliness?" she teased deviously.

"No, you expended all your super powers on the Boogieman. Yiou're incredibly sexy when you feel vulnerable," he tossed back at her, nuzzling into her throat.

Heather closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the attentions as her arms slipped up from his waist to his neck. Stress, exhaustion, fear, and uncertainty were channeling into more productive, if seemingly unrelated emotions. "Mmm men," she murmured. "Always needing to protect something. And here I thought I looked good with a gun."

"You always look good," he whispered, and thumbed the black goo in her hair for emphasis. "We should take a shower."

Both young adults looked at one another. There had been an accidental invitation in those words.

"We should," Heather agreed. He blushed a little, holding her gaze to make sure she knew what she was saying. She took his arm and tugged him off towards the bathroom.

When they arrived she shut the door behind him and then promptly seized his shirt by the hem and pulled it up and off over his head. Slightly taken aback by her forwardness, Alex did his best to cooperate. When she started unclasping his belt, he grabbed her shoulders in surprise.

"Heather!" She jumped a bit and blinked at him. He studied her face worriedly. "Are you okay? Is this okay?"

Heather was quiet a moment. Then she pulled back from his grasp and looked him up and down sort of curiously. Feeling a little awkward, Alex also took a step back and clasped his arms self consciously across his chest. The tile floor of the bathroom offered scarce insulation, and the lighthouse was somewhat chilly at night. Which was good. It was helping him not think about-

She took a step towards him again, and placed a hand gently on his chest. The fingers traced downward, over his sternum, down towards his belly, over the flesh of his abdomen, tracing each muscle. Her touch was very warm, and by the time it paused against his naval the cold air was no longer able to conceal his excitement.

The look Alex Shepherd gave her hovered somewhere between utter helplessness and intense need. Heather smiled a bit, sort of amazed by him. After the day they'd been through, despite her provocative touch, he was still too good a man to act without her explicit verbal permission. He would rather suffer then risk hurting her or letting her hurt herself. His self control was crazy.

A pang shot through her. She was in the Otherworld. In Hell. She was going to have to kill cultists, face monsters... She might lose him, Kaufmann, anyone...

...Valtiel...

Alex had taken a step towards her and leaned over slightly to look into her eyes. He was touching her face."Heather...?" His voice cracked pretty badly. Heather laughed slightly, raising her hands to his cheeks.

"I don't want to go back in there thinking I might die with regrets," she told him. "And I don't want to just sit here tonight feeling broken and inconsolable wondering what the hell I'm going to do tomorrow and how I'm going to rescue something that barely..." She shook her head. "I'm not afraid of you." She pushed up against him, earning a slight jump from her partner and a surprised facial expression somewhere between pain and arousal. "Any of you. ...Touch me."

He took in a deep breath and then nodded to her. "Then..." he began and then hoisted her up by the hips, pressing her against the sink so she could straddle him while he undressed her.


The lighthouse had been restored in recent years. When Henry and Eileen arrived, there were several cars in the parking lot, including Heather's. The lights were on in several of the rooms and the front door was unlocked. Eileen knocked once, then twice, but no one answered.

"Should we just go in?" she asked. Her husband shifted Elle's weight in his arms and then nodded.

Inside was deserted. Papers were set about neatly on the receptionist's desk, and a clock ticked by thoughtfully in a room that doubled as living room and atrium. A little fountain gurgled pleasantly. But as Eileen called 'Hello?' through the halls, no one answered. She glanced at her husband. He shrugged and gestured for the staircase.

They found an unoccupied guest room (one that Henry knew wasn't occupied by Alex and Heather) and settled Elle down. Eileen pulled some fresh clothes out of her own suitcase and settled them down on the bedside table.

"This is eerie," she said in a hushed voice. "Do you think Dr. Kaufmann got pulled into the Otherworld as well? Heather didn't mention anything..."

"Had a lot on her mind," Henry suspected.

"Why do you think we were supposed to come here, then? Are we going to wake up and find everything shrouded in fog? They asked us to take care of Elle..."

Henry glanced at the Robbie the Rabbit doll his wife had set off to the side. He repressed a shudder, and turned his eyes back to her face. "I think as long as they're alive, we're safe. And somehow we can help them from this side. We just have to figure out how."

"Well, I mean... do you have an ideas?"

He glanced at Elle. "Let's bring some blankets in here and bunk on the floor. We probably shouldn't leave her alone with real-world cultists prone to kidnapping her."


Henry: reluctant to tell his wife that A) He still dreams of the Otherworld and B) The last time he tried to dispose of her Robbie the Rabbit Doll, he woke up to her sleep walking and talking in Little Walter's voice.