Bishop reached the K. Gordon house in fifteen minutes. His muscles ached and his lungs screamed from running nearly a mile with Arelia in his arms. As soon as he unlocked the door, he stumbled into the bathroom and set her down on her feet. Her knees did not hold the first time and she crumpled back into his arms. Panting, he struggled with her weight and pulled back the shower curtain. Holding her by the back of her jacket, Bishop lowered her head so as to prevent drowning and turned on the cold water.

Gentle ice-droplets sprayed from the shower head, warranting an immediate convulsion from its target. Bishop held her there until she was strong enough to bat him away and shriek with indignation.

"What are you doing?!" she yelled, blindly slapping the wall for the shower controls. Bishop ignored her and held her captive until she began cursing, the indication he had been looking for pertaining to her level of health. He released Arelia's jacket and turned off the cold water.

Arelia put her hands on her knees and lowered her head, trying to regain balance by steadying the stirring of the fluids in her inner ears. She was breathing heavily and straining to keep her legs under her.

"You're all right, now?" Bishop questioned from outside the shower. Slowly, Arelia stood and stepped over the side of the tub, dripping ice water onto the tile floor.

"I'm flipping freezing, thanks to you, jackass!" Her blue lips and constant shaking attested to the fact that she was, indeed, freezing. Bishop didn't care.

"And I ran a mile and a half with you in my arms," he said evenly. "I carried you here worrying that you were dead or dying, worrying that you'd become a vegetable or something."

"I've become," Arelia said, "a popsicle!" Bishop looked at her for a moment before grabbing a towel and handing it to her.

"Here."

She dried her hair as best she could, but her damp clothing held in the low temperatures, and she continued to tremble. Bishop sighed and took her gun.

"Take off your clothes," he said.

"I'm sorry?"

"Take off," he repeated, "your clothes."

"Bishop, this is hardly the time for..."

"No! No, you gutter-minded wench, get undressed and take a warm shower. I'll see if I can find a dryer." While he turned his back, Arelia undressed and set her clothes in a folded pile on the floor. She watched him warily as she entered the shower, pulled the curtain closed, and turned on the warm water. Feeling safer now that he couldn't see her, she stood under the stream of heat and waited for her shivering to stop.

Outside, Arelia could hear Bishop sigh and pick up her clothing. She closed her eyes, and his gentle smile flashed into her mind. His haunting blue irises. His careful, warm hands. Her body suddenly felt cold despite the hot water matting her golden hair to her face, neck, and shoulders. She turned up the heat and inhaled the steam as it created small beads of water vapor on her lips and skin.

Bishop watched her silhouette trembling behind the shower curtain and felt something icy pull at his core. She looked so distant, so untouchable behind her walls, so remote and almost vacant that it scared him. There was a part of her that he desperately wanted to touch. It was not anything he could easily reach for, and it was the most heavily guarded of all her possessions.

He wanted to touch her heart.

Arelia's shadow stood upright and ran its fingers through her soft, wet hair. Bishop could see the pain in the way she stood, the slight slump in her shoulders that led him to believe maybe she was closer to losing her mind than he had first assessed. Though the tug inside was strong, he turned away his eyes and set off to find a laundry room for her clothing.

Roughly an hour later, Arelia emerged from the shower. Her hair was still damp, but her body was dry and wrapped in a towel. Bishop looked up from his game of Solitaire.

"Are my clothes done?" she asked softly. He nodded and gestured tot he laundry room. His gaze followed her until she was inside, then fell back onto the card game. Two turns passed before she appeared again, dressed and armed. She brushed her hair with her fingers before tying it up into a ponytail again.

"Feeling better?" Bishop asked casually, placing a nine of spades onto a ten of hearts. Arelia nodded, but Bishop hadn't looked up; to him, the question went unanswered. She wrapped her towel around her shoulders to keep her jacket from getting wet.

"Lonely game," she said.

"Hm?"

"That." Arelia sat across from Bishop on the opposite couch. They were sitting in the family room on plush sofas located on either side of a wooden coffee table. The room was moderately lit. Bishop had obviously found the electrical box around the same time he found the cards. "Solitaire, I mean."

"Suppose," he answered noncommittally. "I play it a lot. Most often when I'm in Brahms on the job. The station doesn't get in a lot of calls, so I'm usually stuck somewhere by myself." He paused as he drew a card. He set the ace of diamonds next to the ace of hearts. "All I need is a flat surface. I've always got a deck on me," he added, patting his left shirt pocket.

"Over the heart," Arelia observed. "Any particular reason for that?" Bishop set the two of diamonds onto its corresponding ace.

"Stop trying to analyze me, Arelia. I'm not in the mood for it."

"What are you in the mood for?"

"Sleeping. Maybe dying."

"You've already done that once." Bishop looked up at Arelia. His frost-colored eyes were suddenly framed by a frown.

"What do you mean?" he asked. She began fishing her her pockets as she explained.

"When you first saw me on the road to Silent Hill, you were on your motorcycle, weren't you?"

"Yeah," he said. "What does that have to do with--"

"And you smiled at me through the driver's side window, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I still don't--"

"After that, what did you do?" Bishop was beginning to look frustrated.

"I passed you," he said. "What, are you pissed because I cut you off?"

"After that?" Arelia pressed. "What did you do after that?" Bishop stared at her a moment, then lowered his head. His temples began to pulse.

"I can't remember," he said.

"Try."

"I can't," he said again, firmly. Arelia was silent, but he knew she was waiting for an answer. He searched his memory, as full of fog as the town itself, for an accurate response. His eyes closed. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he began to grasp grainy black and white images.


Bishop passed the vehicle and its driver, smiling to himself as he accelerated and lost sight of the truck behind the curve of the road. She's cute, he thought to himself. Pretty dang cute. Wonder what she's heading to Silent Hill for? He didn't worry too much over it. Though he had been sent specifically to investigate the town's loss of contact, he didn't worry about a tourist venturing past the city limits. There was great doubt concerning the possibility of a terrorist operation centered in Silent Hill. She shouldn't be in any real danger.

His mind flickered back to her. The way she had looked at him, as if confused. Maybe she'd never seen a motorcycle cop before. Depending on where she was from, it was plausible. Bishop wondered if any town could possibly be smaller than Brahms.

Although Brahms was, indeed, a close-knit family of few houses and fewer roads, their police department still managed to succeed in alienating the townspeople. Many were wary of officers, Bishop in particular. He had been born and raised in Brahms, but ever since he had entered the police academy, things had changed. People had begun to look at him differently, as if he might jump out of his own skin and bite them with the ferocity of a contained demon. Briefly, he wondered where he got that analogy from.

Within the department, he was considered a hard-working, diligent officer. He had done well with field work, and had been praised for his progress in training exercises. Three months ago, things had seemed to die down in Brahms. He was no longer needed for outside duties, and spent most of his time reclining in his chair behind a desk, playing Solitaire or pushing papers. When the call had come in for someone to investigate the silence of Silent Hill (he dwelled momentarily on that irony), he had been the only one present in the station to take the assignment. He had almost literally leapt at it.

Now that the night air was whipping against him and his motorcycle was getting the most use it had in weeks, Bishop felt alive and free again. He had a purpose. Maybe if he found something really dire, and could handle the situation, he'd never have to sit behind a desk again.

As he came around the other side of the curve, a roadblock greeted him. Blast it, he mentally sighed, slowing his motorcycle. The road was completely gone in the middle, creating a huge gap between him and the path to Silent Hill. Bishop slid over to the shoulder of the road and ditched his bike, starting on foot to the abyss. Maybe he could get around it, somehow.

He crouched at the edge, looking down into the deep, swirling mists. Something rumbled and flashed below, like a storm caught in the depths of the chasm. He frowned and leaned over to get a better look. What is that...?

Needless to say, Bishop was very surprised with a winged, goat-headed demon leapt out of the darkness and pulled him down into Hell.


"Bishop?" Arelia inquired quietly. The officer was gripping the sides of his head and trembling fiercely. She was afraid he was going to crush his own head. After a long pause, Bishop looked up and lowered his hands.

"I hit a roadblock," he said evenly. "The road just... ended. I got off my motorcycle to have a look, and something pulled me down."

"When you woke up, where were you?"

"I was walking down Bachman Road. That's why I thought everything was all right. I was just walking, you know? And looking around a little. Then suddenly everything came back to me, like I had just come off autopilot, and all these feelings rushed through my mind. I was curious about why no one was here, and nervous. Then I found you outside the Cafe." Bishop looked at his Solitaire game and placed the three of spades onto the two of spades already positioned on its ace. "You were unconscious, but you seemed to be okay. You were the first person I saw."

Arelia leaned back on the couch and exhaled a long, weary sigh. She put her arms behind her head and glanced out the window to her left. Snow drifted lazily onto the ground, where it promptly disappeared moments later. The serenity was interrupted by logic. It should not have been snowing. There should be people. A dog limped across the yard. There should be live people, she corrected.

"You were killed when you were dragged down into Hell," she said, refusing to look into Bishop's eyes as she told him. "Whatever dragged you here had to kill you first. That's why I'm here. Something stepped in front of my car while I was busy looking at your motorcycle dumped on the shoulder. I swerved like an idiot to avoid it and crashed." She began to search her pockets again. "I don't know if that was what killed me, or what happened next. I remember waking up and getting some necessities out of my truck, then starting an investigation of my own. I was looking for help when a swinging gate caught my attention.

"I went after whatever had disrupted the otherwise peaceful, but ominous, atmosphere of the town. I followed it all the way down an alley. As I proceeded, it became darker and darker, until I had to turn on my pocket flashlight. It was drizzling slightly, but it was not puddles I was splashing about in. It was blood.

"I came across rusted, metal grates and chain link fences. Everything was soaked in blood and... gore. There was a gurney, covered with a sheet. Someone was under it. There were bloodstains where the eye sockets should have been.

"I hit a dead end, and found a body crucified to one of the fences. That's when the things that were in the school attacked and stabbed me to death. Next thing I remember is waking up to you watching me." She looked over to Bishop, who was staring at her with a very calm look on his face. Slowly, he reached over and took her hand.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Arelia said, face contorting into a look of anger. "You think I'm crazy."

"No," he said, squeezing her hand. "Actually, it makes a lot of sense."