Disclaimer: I do not own SH2 or the characters. Like you couldn't tell.
Author's Notes: And so we move on to the second chapter. (By the way, have you seen Goblet of Fire yet? No? Move yo' ass!)
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C H A P T E R - T W O
The house in North Ashfield was small, but there was a charm about it that Mary had absolutely loved. He remembered clasping hands with his wife as they followed the realtor inside and looking skeptically around the place, which the realtor was insisting was 'cozy' in his sales pitch. He looked over at Mary, who he saw wasn't even listening. Her bright eyes appraised all she could see, and after the brief tour of the one-story residence, she smiled at her husband. "Oh, James!" she had exclaimed with utmost pleasure. With the hand that wasn't entwined with his, she smoothed her fingers across the shiny edge of the sink. "I love it! It's absolutely perfect!" James remembered shrugging at the pleased realtor and saying, "We'll take it."
Years later, after the trial of her disease, after his ordeal in Silent Hill where he accepted that he had smothered her with a pillow, James Sunderland stepped into the same house.
Physically, he had changed little. His face may have been worn with age, but he was still young-- in his mid-thirties-- so there was no remarkable difference. Even his hairstyle was the same due to his own preference, though the dirty blonde strands were short from being recently cut. As for mentally and emotionally, well… Obviously he did not come away from the dark town without having learned anything. Most importantly, however, he was able to strike out in life again instead of drowning himself in the misery that had slowly consumed him over the progression of Mary's disease. This is not to say he was over her loss. It was impossible to completely move on after losing the woman you would give your life for without a thought, a quality he had demonstrated by going through an experience akin to Hell itself. True love will do that to you. And if you don't believe in true love, you are just bitterer than the rest of us at not having the great amount of luck it takes to find it.
"Laura?" James called out. He rested a white box on the table and tossed his wallet and keys beside it.
"Eh?" The blonde girl entered the kitchen from the living room. Being quite young when James first met her, over the following five years she had predictably changed much. She was still quite spindly, but was now nearly five feet tall. As James preferred to leave his hair as he'd always kept it, she preferred to have hers shorn to just below her ears. A number of things had definitely not changed, like the ease with which her mouth quirked up into an amused smirk or the dull blonde of her hair or her piercing blue eyes.
Before Laura let the swinging door close behind her he caught a glimpse of the television's flickering light. "Oh, hey! How was work?" Her voice had matured slightly, but it easily regressed into a teasing childishness when she chose.
"Fine," James said, fixing her with a stern glare. "I hope you finished your homework before turning on that TV."
She shot him a flashy grin. "C'mon, James! It's Friday, remember? Don't I ever get a break from you? Even on my birthday?"
He shook his head-- but he couldn't help smiling back at her-- and flipped open the white box. "Happy Birthday." He lifted out a small round cake. Beneath the vanilla icing was fluffy chocolate, and on its top in ornate blue letters, it proclaimed, 'Happy 13th Birthday, Laura.'
"Mmm!" Laura licked her lips as James set the cake on the table. "Looks tasty."
"Well, don't spoil your dinner," James replied. He fished around the junk drawer for matches and candles. "Where did you and your friends decide to go?"
"Antonio's in the mall." Laura smiled overly sweetly at him again. "You said you'd pay, right?"
He smiled wryly. "Yes, the Bank of James will be giving you enough for the pizza, drinks, and ice cream."
"And the arcade?"
He sighed. "Yeah, sure."
"You're a real sweetie," Laura laughed. She took in a breath as if she was going to say something else, but she stopped and coughed nervously.
James said nothing as he lit the candles. He knew to what she was likely going to refer. A fragment of an old letter, which Laura probably had stashed somewhere in her room, came back to him.
(… I know he seems surly, but underneath he's a really sweet person…)
"Well, start singing, buddy!" Laura chimed.
James blinked. He hadn't realized that he'd been staring at the cake. All thirteen candles were lit. He looked up at her nervously. "Do I have to sing?"
"Yes. Same as last year," she replied with a deceptively angelic smile.
He sighed and did his best, which wasn't horrible, but wasn't all that great either. After he finished, shaking his head at how pleased she was to embarrass him as usual, he set about cutting each of them a good slice.
"What about my dinner?" she giggled when he presented her a hunk of chocolate goodness.
"Shut up," he laughed, putting the icing-slicked knife in the sink. "Oh!" he exclaimed as he remembered. "Your present."
"It's in your closet on the top shelf," she helpfully reminded him.
He shot her a look, but she only returned it with an exaggerated grin. He retrieved the gift and returned to the kitchen. He set it in front of Laura, who was halfway done her cake, before sitting down and starting on his own slice.
"Goodie!" Laura dropped her fork onto the table and tore off the wrapping paper. She flipped open the top. Letting out a little gasp of pleasure, she pulled a fluffy bear out of the box. It was tan and plush, and it wore a blue baseball cap on its head. "I thought you said I was getting old for stuffed animals?"
James shrugged and swallowed a masticated clump of cake. "Well, I know you like them. Plus I got you something else," he said, pointing at the box with his fork.
She looked in again and pulled out a small envelope. She opened it and found a gift card for the mall. "Awesome!" she exclaimed, bouncing out of her chair and briefly wrapping her arms around James' neck. "Thanks!"
James blushed a bit. "You're welcome."
She sat down again and held the bear out in front of her. She examined it for a moment, then took the cap and replaced it so it was backwards on the animal's head. "That's better," she said, not necessarily to anyone. "Very cool."
James couldn't stop his grin. "Oh, yeah, very."
She considered the bear for a moment longer, now thoughtful. "You know, he kinda reminds me of Eddie."
James coughed so he wouldn't choke on his food. "Who?"
"You know! Eddie! That fat guy." She gave him a strange look, then returned her gaze to the bear. "I guess I should name him that."
"Ah… Are you sure?"
"What's wrong with Eddie?"
"Um… nothing, I guess." Except maybe that he was dead, James thought guiltily, and kept his eyes on his plate.
"That's what I'm calling him. But it'll be Ed for short."
"Great."
"Whatever happened to Eddie anyway?"
James looked up at the clock on the wall. "When did you say we were supposed to pick up your friends?"
"Huh?" Laura looked up to see the time also. "Oh, crap! I only have a half hour to get ready!" She hurried off to her room.
James finished his cake and put the plate and fork into the sink. He crumpled up the torn wrapping paper and tossed it into the trash can, and then set the box aside to put back in the attic later. And then there was the bear.
("Don't get all holy on me, James. This town called you, too.")
"Self-defense," he reminded himself. He looked away from the cuddly thing and grimaced. "I just had to pick the one with the hat."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
The black sedan idled outside of a home on the other side of North Ashfield from James and Laura's small abode. While Ashfield as a whole was considered a medium-sized city, it was South Ashfield that held all the businesses, restaurants, night spots, hotels, museums, and the high school. The northern half had a more squashed suburban feel. It had the elementary and middle schools, and in terms of residency there was the occasional apartment complex, but mostly it held small houses and narrow duplexes with tiny yards. It was outside one of the petite houses that the car waited.
Inside the car were James in the driver's seat, Laura as the front passenger, and three of her friends chirruping in the back. James had traded in his old junk-mobile not long after returning from Silent Hill.
When Emily, the last girl to be picked up, came out of the house, she was rolling her eyes because her mom was following her. She sighed when her mother hugged her once they reached the curb and crammed herself into the backseat with the three other girls. Her mother leaned down by the driver's side window, and James did his best to smile.
"Hey, Kate," he greeted. One of the girls in the car giggled.
"Nice to see you, James," she replied with a hint of shy flirtation. A lock of her long red hair fell over her face, and she pushed it back into place.
His face felt warm. "You sure you're okay with having the sleepover here?"
She smiled and laughed, and she gave him all of her attention with her eager blue eyes. "It's no problem. Laura told me how cramped your place would be with five teenage girls in there."
"Yeah. I really appreciate it."
"You know," she said, and she leaned closer in so her face was inside the car now, "I'm sure with some rearranging that a small house like yours could be more spacious. If you want, I could, uh, help you out with it some time."
Before James could utter a doltish, stuttering reply to what was, at its core, obviously not an invitation to rearrange his furniture, except maybe in some bizarre metaphorical sense, Laura spoke up with a practiced, forced exuberance. "Ms. Brewett!" she said loudly. "Would you mind taking my bag into the house so I don't have to carry it around the mall?" She pulled her backpack out from where it lay between her shins and plunked it into James lap.
The gaze was broken. "Oh, of course," Kate said, taking the bag from James.
"Thanks!" Laura exclaimed with a big smile. She nudged James' arm. "C'mon! I'm hungry!"
"Bye, Kate," James said quickly before putting the car into drive.
But Kate reached into the car and put a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, before you go," she said, smiling at him again, "are you coming to group tomorrow night?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I think so."
She finally withdrew. "Alright, see you then."
"See you," and he pressed his foot to the accelerator.
After a moment driving down the street in silence, the girls in the back seat burst into laughter. Laura frowned at them, and James sighed.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
James walked into the house for the second time that day. He shrugged off his brown jacket and sighed in relief at the quiet. It was much more pleasant than the never-ending conversations of five teenage girls in a car that just seemed to get more closed in as time went on.
Mary wouldn't have minded it, though.
James groaned at the thought when he realized he was staring at a picture of his late wife which had permanent domain on the side table in the living room. He needed a drink, he told himself abruptly. And at that unwanted thought, he shook his head and chastised himself. He was done with that. Especially with Laura in the house.
He decided to try to relax, and thus, a shower was in order. After tossing his jacket onto the couch, he went to the bathroom and turned on the tub faucet. Soon the water was to his liking and he pulled the switch that brought the showerhead to life.
It would be exactly five years soon, he thought as he undressed. It seemed like longer. Or shorter. He wasn't sure what it seemed like. The whole experience had been… surreal, to say the least. If it hadn't been for the scars that had persisted on his bruised skin, he might have been able to convince himself that it had never happened. But that wasn't exactly the point to the whole experience, was it? No, the point had been to learn the truth. Though he was sure that the town meant for him to learn the truth and then feed on his anguish, on his soul, as cheesy as it sounded now away from the darkness and the gore. But when he thought about it, he was fairly sure that that was what the town wanted, or rather whatever force was behind the place.
But he would rather not think about it at all.
He stood under the warm spray. It was comforting.
And the hand that brushed his back was alarming.
He almost slipped when he spun around, but he planted his hands on the tiled walls. His mouth fell open at the woman standing in the tub with him. Any other man would be intrigued with a strange woman in his shower. James Sunderland was horrified by the pink-tipped blonde hair that was sheared above her shoulders, the intent blue eyes that kept him frozen in his awkward prone position, the painted lips quirked up in a satisfied smirk. Maria's seductive expression on Mary's naked body, the naked body that she stole stole stole from his wife and marked as her own with a dark butterfly on the hip.
This couldn't be happening. Maria was dead. No, more than that: she wasn't real. She was one of them, one of those monsters that had vanished once it was all over. She was ashen and scarred and upside-down in a cage, the long tentacle from between her legs whipping down and lashing around his throat.
He cried out when she stepped through the spray and crossed the little distance between them. The water plastered trails through her hair, over her face, down the curves of her body. It dripped from her arms as she raised them, pressing her palms against the tile on either side of his head. She moved still closer, and James, still terribly confused and terrified and disbelieving, made another noise of shock when her warm body pressed up against his. It could have been sensual if not for the disturbing, possessive glint in her close gaze.
"James." She whispered it against his mouth before covering it with her own.
("James… James… James…")
And that's when James finally moved to strike at her. But his arms against the walls were all that held him up, and he fell, and his back hit the faucet. He screamed at the pain that jolted through his back. He recoiled from the faucet and into the spray, and then immediately looked up at Maria.
Except she wasn't there.
"Wh… what?" James stared up at the shower curtain. It didn't ruffle, and he knew it had never been opened. He reached around and gingerly touched the aching spot on his back. When he brought his hand in front of him again he watched blood wash away from his fingers. The faucet had cut him, and even though the water pattering the wound stung, he didn't think it was very bad.
Of course, he had bigger things to worry about.
James turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub. He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist, then grabbed another towel and pressed it to his back. He walked out to the bed room and looked over his shoulder at the mirror, lifting the towel as he did so. "Jesus," he muttered at the sight of the bleeding scratch. "What the fuck?" he murmured at the memory of how he had gotten it.
No, no, he wasn't crazy. At least not anymore. At least that's what he told himself. But he couldn't be. Besides the occasional (and understandable) nightmare, he'd never felt such intense mental instability again since that day five years ago. He'd accepted what he had done, and the otherworldly mystique of that town had let him speak to Mary again, and she had understood. With her forgiveness, the madness exacerbated by Silent Hill had left him.
At least he thought so.
("Don't worry. I'm not crazy. Least, I don't think so…")
Maria wasn't real. She couldn't have been there, in his bathroom, in the goddamn shower with him. That was ridiculous. He must've been… stressed… or working too hard. Or something. It could have been that the anniversary of his last trip to Silent Hill was coming up. Yeah, that made sense. He had accepted, understood what he had done, but that didn't mean all his regret and guilt had vanished. If anything, it had festered in acknowledgement.
So it had to have just been his imagination.
Right?
Still pressing the towel to his back, James glanced at the clock, but knew he would find difficulty in getting sleep that night.
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Please review? 'Twould be super cooly awesome.