Wretched

Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill.

VIII. The Eighth Day

A/N: Almost done here, kiddies.

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It really didn't feel fair to Pyramid Head. Whereas he had spent hours upon grueling hours thinking of the correct way to ask—the correct way to phrase the question he knew she would be more than a little surprised at, Maria had turned the whole situation back around on him.

"Stay here," he had told her, rather than asked, after they had left that building in favor of roaming Silent Hill aimlessly.

Then she'd laughed. "Why?"

He furrowed his brow. Why? Why did she even have to ask? He didn't have an answer at all.

After a moment of silence, she smiled sadly. "I can't stay forever, Pyramid Head."

Yeah, yeah, he knew that much. They'd both die eventually, and he had no intention of remaining with her for an eternity. Or, at least, that was what he told himself.

Maria had led him to the park, and they made their way to the very back, beside the abandoned rotisserie stand. She sighed and leaned against the railing. Pyramid Head hung back.

"So what you're asking me," she said, eyes staring out over the foggy expanse of the lake. "Is that you want me to stay with you?"

Pyramid Head nodded from somewhere behind her. He had replaced the helmet, but found that once on, he couldn't take it off again. For some odd reason, only Maria could do that for him. She'd showed him all of the harnesses and straps and what to unbuckle and buckle, but it didn't do any good. It wouldn't budge for him.

She hummed just a bit. "I can try to…for as long as I can." She turned to face him and smiled, blood still coating her clothes and parts of her visible skin.

He stuck the spear into the ground of the planter, making it stand straight up. He sat down, and she sat close beside him—so close, in fact, that the whole side of her leg pressed against his.

She leaned into his side, despite the fact that they were both covered in blood, and despite the fact that he was a murderous, conscience-less monster. None of this seemed to faze her. "When James leaves," she said, putting her chin on his shoulder, "so will I. As long as James stays here, so will I."

A surge of anger tightened around Pyramid Head's throat, and he scowled. James would always be significantly more important than him. He was a minor character in this big scheme, after all. However…the thought of her leaving Silent Hill forever, with James Sunderland, no less, bothered him more than it should. "If I kill him," he stated plainly, his voice hoarse, "you'll have to stay here forever."

Her body momentarily stiffened, but she relaxed with a contented sigh less than a second later. "You won't, though," she said, pulling away to look up at him. "Because you know that's not what I want."

His hands fisted. "I don't care what you want."

"Of course you don't."

And then…it seemed as though everything had fallen into some sort of odd pattern. Maria never once made a fuss or whine when Pyramid Head demanded she stay beside him at all times, and she didn't ever try to find James again.

But Pyramid Head tried to find James. Because, in reality, he did care about what Maria wanted, and Maria wanted James.

They'd scoured the length of Silent Hill two times over, and by the time that the sun started to set ominously, there had been no sign of James Sunderland whatsoever.

"Pyramid Head," Maria said softly, placing a hand on his arm.

He frowned and pulled away. He'd failed to find that man, and it was a failure that, for some reason, didn't sit very well with him.

She huffed under her breath and grabbed him by his apron, holding him in place. "It's getting dark. You know it's too dangerous for me when the sun goes down." She released him to point over her shoulder with a thumb. "Do you want to stay at my place?"

His heart leapt, though he didn't know quite why.

She smiled a little then. "Follow me." And, probably just to make sure he wouldn't bolt off in the other direction when she wasn't looking, she grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

For the first time, Pyramid Head wished he hadn't worn gloves. He could feel the warmth of her palm through the latex, and he wondered how it would feel with just bare skin on skin.

Her "bastion" wasn't too incredibly far. She had taken the old animal hospital and turned it into a haven of sorts, complete with a fridge of food, running water, and a small bed in one of the far corners.

As soon as they stepped inside, she locked and barred the doors and pulled the shades down over the windows. She turned to him, tucking the key safely away in a little hidden pocket behind her choker. "It's nothing fancy, but it's safe."

He nodded, and before he had time to ask where he was supposed to sleep, he felt the telltale presence of her hands on the back of his neck. Delicious shivers ran through him, causing him to stiffen a little. What had she had in mind when she'd invited him to her home? This was her base of her operations—her stronghold. And she trusted him enough with that secret to let him come inside and stay the night.

He was so turned on.

Sadly, he was slightly disappointed when she snapped the buckles on his helmet and pulled it off, setting it aside on a counter. She stared at him for a while after that.

He scowled. "What?"

She laughed and stood on her tip-toes to kiss him, and it was a long, drawn-out kiss that drained his reserves of self-control to the point where all he wanted to do was throw her down and have his way.

She pulled away just as his left arm twitched with the need to grab her forcefully by the back of her head, prompting her to try being a little more rough. "Blond," she said, as though still in disbelief. "I love it. The might fiend of Silent Hill is a cute little blond."

He frowned deeply. He was not "cute" by any means, and the situation hardly called for her to deem him as such.

She pulled him to the little makeshift bed she had constructed in a corner, complete with, surprisingly, a well-kept mattress and box-spring. It didn't have any sort of frame, but there were several pillows and several blankets, and he'd suddenly never seen anything so comfortable in his entire life.

"Come on," she said, stretching and removing her shredded outer jacket. She lay down—well, flopped, actually—and buried her face in the sheets.

He just stared at her dumbly.

After a moment, she raised her head from the ocean of linens. "Well? Are you going to come lay with me, or what?"

He blinked, and she laughed gently.

"You really do have pretty eyes," she said, propping herself up on one elbow. Comforters and assorted blankets caved around her body, creating an almost-cocoon.

He tried not the lock with her gaze, and he stood back a little bit and crossed his arms over his chest.

She sat up and began to unlace her boots, then took off her choker and set each item neatly on a bench near the bed. "You're welcome here," she said when she finished, patting the empty spot beside her. "Just…take off your boots. It takes forever to wash the sheets and things."

He grudgingly obliged, discarding his boots and gloves, setting them on the counter beside his helmet. He slid carefully into the bed beside her, situating himself into the most comfortable position possible.

Maria smiled and curled into a ball at his side, pulling a pillow down to accommodate such an odd position. "Goodnight, Pyramid Head."

As the night wore on, he realized that he probably hated Maria for her lack of perception.