A/N: Another chapter for y'all. Reviews would be greatly appreciated, as I'm slowing down a bit and could use ideas/encouragement. Thanks a million times over to those loyal readers and reviewers though!
Chapter Fifteen
The two were still undergoing equal numbers of electric shocks to the mind by the time the cop finally pulled away from the gesture; she helped Rose to her feet in silence, and for what seemed an eternity, they walked in silence. The mother continued leading the way, glancing down at the paper that she still clutched tightly with one hand as she walked; Cybil's footsteps echoed behind, and she kept gladly kept her distance, though she was sure not to allow herself to stray too far from the woman, lest something happen and she needed assistance of any kind. Periodically she would stop and search one of the vehicles parked on the side of the street as she had done before, and each time she would emerge from them with a frustrated expression on her face. She didn't need to explain to the cop that she was trying to find one that might actually run, seeing as her only means of transportation had been totaled and sent over a bridge.
The cap of the syringe pressed into Rose's thigh through the thin material of her pocket as she walked; a building was passed as she attempted to remove the item from said pocket; once she had done so she looked up suddenly and halted so quickly as to cause Cybil to nearly collide with her. She spun around as Cybil moved to the side, and hurried up to the entrance of the building passed by. With hands that still quaked from the two's previous encounter, Rose held the paper up to her eyes and double checked the number—or the part of the number that was readable.
"I think this is it."
The cop said nothing when Rose's eyes surveyed her briefly, but only followed as the woman pulled open one of the heavy doors and squeezed through the narrow opening she had achieved; the room beyond the doors was laden with the same familiar ash as was the rest of that Hellish place, though 'twas slightly thicker in the air itself, and the mother choked somewhat as she tried to catch the breath that had been lost in the exertion of trying to open the doors. Having been discovered in the same drawer of the desk that the address had originated in, the presence of the syringe made sense now; the building they had entered was apparently a psychiatric facility. It was unnerving to have entered such a place; the only comfort to the mother came from the knowledge of the police officer's presence nearby, and though she turned to look pointedly at the holster of the pistol—which was emptied upon Cybil's understanding of the silent suggestion—Rose was quiet, somewhat afraid to speak in this place. Predatory lusus naturae were one thing; mentally disturbed predatory ones were another matter entirely, and something neither woman wished to encounter.
Steeling her nerves, Rose gripped the syringe—which she now saw to be filled with some sort of scarlet liquid; not blood, but some sort of chemical—and the paper with the address was crumpled tightly in the other hand as she ascended a staircase. Before she was three steps up, however, the feel of leather upon her bare shoulder stopped her movements gently, but forcefully. Blue met violet, and the cop's voice was issued forth in the soft but authoritative tones so typically used. It was not stated as a question would have been, but rather as a declaration.
"Maybe I should go first."
The mother nodded, allowing her friend to pass by her and climb the winding staircase gradually, taking her time, lest any canines happen to come bounding out from any nearby rooms, or any wobbling, crook-legged armless beings feel the urge to take her head off via their own acidic venom. They reached the second floor in due time, the cop swinging around the corner quickly after only a moment's preparation, her gun poised to shoot; the corridor was empty, and she relaxed slightly, dropping the pistol to her waist but retaining her hold on it with both hands. The leather of the gloves creaked slightly as she did so, and she glimpsed Rose behind her to ensure she was still present. The awkwardness of the past events had softened now that they were back to work; problems were forgotten and romance took the back seat. Yet the young blonde nearly choked herself with such thoughts; there was no romance here. Rose was her friend and nothing more. She'd only been carried away in her moment of fright. But then…what exactly had led her to believe that returning the gesture was the best option?
"Cybil?"
Shaking her head and removing herself from the realm of thought into which she had fallen, the officer stepped aside so as to let Rose walk alongside her, the pistol still ready for action should its services be needed. They'd been fortunate so far; they'd not been forced to fire more than a few shots just yet, and Cybil would have liked it to stay as such. Though most of the beings roaming the town seemed to come about only during the darkness, those who had shown themselves at random held themselves in a position worthy of the women's concern and apprehension. Soot coated doors lined the passageway, some cracked open to reveal hospital beds and iron clamps which had likely been used to hold patients in place; leather straps hung over and extended onto the floor so as to seemingly slither at the two like some sort of exceptionally threatening serpent; Rose moved to walk directly in the center of the hall, likely to distance herself equally from the rooms on either side of both she and Cybil, who seemed remarkably unfazed.
The procession down the chalky corridor was suddenly impeded by the site of an elevator marking the end of the hall, which they had been unable to see previously due to the thick dust and fog and ash present in the air; there were no apparent alternative routes; stairs were not present, and Cybil followed the entire wall with her hand just to be certain there were no doors hiding from view. She found nothing, and with a frustrated expelling of breath, turned to look at Rose with a gaze reading something along the lines of, 'Now what, oh brilliant leader?' The mother stared at the closed doors of the elevator for what felt an eternity, before sensing the cop's eyes upon her, and casting her a glare of whose sharpness was probably undeserved, even given the annoyed expression that had evoked it.
"You know, the last elevator I went in did work."
"I vote we take the stairs."
"There are no stairs."
"How do you know? We haven't even looked at the other end yet."
"Institutions of this time all had exterior stairwells. Used to think it prevented breakouts, I guess. And besides, don't you think there'd be signs if there were any in here?"
The cop didn't reply, but simply stared at the dirtied tile floor, slightly surprised that Rose would have known anything about history. 'Twas rude to prejudge, but Cybil had been under the impression that the young mother wasn't very…intelligent—at least not as far as architecture went. It would seem now that she was incorrect in her opinions of the woman, and she reminded herself that it was not the first time she had been wrong about Rose Da Silva; their first meeting had led the officer to believe she was a disturbed child abductor. She should have known by now not to underestimate her friend. Alas, she seemed predestined to be predisposed in any opinions and assumptions she had or made; nothing could be done to prevent them. She would simply have to correct herself instead.
Rose stepped closer to the elevator and tried her best to pry it open with her fingertips, but to no avail; it was simply too tightly clamped shut to give in to her limited strength. Cybil watched her try several other methods of opening it, including uncapping the syringe and squirting a very small amount of the crimson chemical within onto the door; it sizzled for a moment, but did not appear to have weakened any. Under ordinary circumstances, the cop would have laughed at the mother's attempts, but unfortunately they were in Silent Hill and she was unable to, for it almost made sense that the syringe would have proved useful in this alternate reality. Sighing, and against her better judgment, Cybil walked forward and gestured to Rose to move aside; she did so without question; the officer removed a collapsible baton from her utility belt, extending it to its full length and with a quick thrust, pierced it through the burned area of the door. The hole left behind provided a point of leverage; she made to reach out and grip it with her hand after removing the baton, but Rose grabbed her wrist before she could do so, tearing it away with a force Rose hadn't even known she'd been capable of producing.
"Don't touch it!" she cried, releasing Cybil's wrist after it was a safe distance from the door. "You saw what it did there—not too intelligent of a move to try and touch the very same place where it started to eat away the metal."
More annoyed with herself than with Rose, the officer jabbed the baton back through the hole and tried to force the doors open; the mother pulled in the opposite direction on the unmarked door, seeing as the injury to Cybil's shoulder prevented her from using her other arm much. At last the doors slid open, and Rose quickly placed a stray piece of sturdy wall-stone between them to keep them from springing shut a second time. The two stepped back to admire their work, of sorts, although Cybil did not look at all pleased with the fact that the young mother was far too adamant about using the ancient elevator. She watched as Rose moved to squeeze herself through the small space provided to her; it was lucky for them both that they were as slim as they were; Cybil moved in after her, doing her best to overcome her fear of a malfunction.
The stone holding the doors open suddenly crumbled into tiny particles, sending the doors into a sort of rebound from the tension having been had on them previously only just after Cybil had fully entered the car; the loud crack which resounded through the small space of the elevator reached their ears by way of a rolling and twisting and snapping motion, and all too quickly; Rose's neck lurched backwards, bashing into the wall behind with dizzying force. Cybil managed to maintain her balance as the mechanism pitched into a freefall which sent them nearly sprawling against the ceiling above; a moment's time past and it clattered to a halt with a deafening and teeth-grinding screech. The only sounds following which could be heard were the off-pace gasps of the two women present within the close and suffocating confines of the archaic contraption of steel chords and iron frame; 'smothering' wasn't the proper word to be used in this case—'twas much worse than that. At last recovering, Cybil peered through the hole in the door made by the baton, and drew back an instant later; they had not yet reached the level at which a door was to be opened so as to free them.
Claustrophobia swiftly washed over her, though she did her best not to allow it to overcome her; she'd been in tight spaces before, and unlike most, this one was larger and had a means of easy escape. Violet eyes sprang upward to the ceiling of the car; Rose was still doing her best to breathe as the cop pushed a rust-melded grate up and out of the way with extreme difficulty, though she nonetheless succeeded. The terrible sight and smell of the elevator shaft greeted her and she nearly vomited at the image; various organs were caught between the chords and indentations in the walls of the shaft, and though most did not appear human, their unexpected appearances laid on the disgust plenty thick. The majority oozed pus-like substances of blue and purple and black; those not doing so simple steamed and convulsed as if they were still alive. The tongue of a canine crashed through the grate quite suddenly, thrashing about desperately, and causing Rose to shriek and jump into a standing position with her back pressed into the corner of the elevator. Cybil raised one leg quickly and pinned the detached limb under the space of her boot left between the heel and the sole; she didn't anticipate that the organ would whip itself around and attempt to slash her across the leg, but by some twist of sheer luck, she dodged it. As if the motion had been done on dying breath, the limb thumped lifelessly to the floor, and lay still.
"I swear, the next one of these things that comes within fifty feet of me is getting strangled by its God forsaken tongue."
Rose, quivering, raised her ocean eyes to stare at her friend blankly for a long moment, before she forthwith collapsed, a dead weight against the bottom of the elevator, and it let loose at the sudden pressure; with a clank it fell the rest of the way until landed with a dull thud against what Cybil presumed to be the bottom most level of the building. Her immediate attention once she was on her feet again was shifted to Rose, who still lay motionless on the floor; the cop knew she wouldn't be able to get out of the elevator without Rose's assistance, and with a shaky voice, she dropped to her knees beside her friend and shook her roughly with the hand of her good arm. Rose's form did nothing, only rested with her face down in her arms and was silent; not even the rhythmic sound of her breathing reached Cybil's ears, and with this realization, she nearly panicked.
"Rose! What the hell! Goddammit, wake up!"
The cop rolled the woman over so that she was face-up, and felt for a pulse, which she was glad to soon find, but she knew it wouldn't be there much longer unless she got the mother breathing again, and very soon. It had been so long since her training, she'd virtually forgotten anything and everything about CPR; nevertheless, she dropped her gun and baton and endured the pain of moving both arms to quickly and repetitively press down on her friend's chest cavity, attempting first to revive her by way of such actions only. It paid off. When the first bit of oxygen flooded the mother's lungs, the color in her face immediately returned, and a surge of relief very near overpowered Cybil to the point of blacking out herself. She crumpled into a sitting position, her legs folded partially and off to one side so that she was tilted slightly; the cop pulled her friend's lightweight frame closer so as to rest her head in her lap and move the hair from the woman's eyes as she threw her head from side to side for a few moments. Once she had finally settled, and her senses returned, Rose bent her neck back so as to look up at Cybil, still shaken.
"For God's sake Rose," the cop breathed, subconsciously stroking the tangled hair in anxiety. "Don't ever do that to me again. I thought I'd lost you."
The hidden side of Cybil Bennett had shown itself once more; she was no longer the stark deputy here, bust was instead a human being capable of compassion, hurt, and concern, and above all, fear. It was a strange sort of relief to Rose, as she lay for the most part unmoving, her breathing and mind steadily clearing; the combination of the rhythmic sifting of her once silken hair by gloved hands, and the surprising warmth and softness of the leather holster of the pistol which pressed against the back of her neck were soothing; for a moment, her troubles were forgotten, and existence was composed only of she and Cybil. The officer had been invaluable to her during her time here in the Hellish Silent Hill, both emotionally and otherwise; she realized upon awakening that if Cybil Bennett hadn't been present there in the elevator with her, she wouldn't have had the privilege of awakening as she had done. Yet again the cop had played the heroine, and although Rose was by this point growing quite sick of feeling insignificant, weak and absent minded, she would be forever grateful for the time she was able to spend with this woman. The thoughts parading about her mind were unashamed; she'd kissed this woman, she recalled, and she'd had reason behind it; even if she wasn't yet certain just what that reasoning was, she knew it existed, and she knew that it continued to the very moment in which she herself was existing.
She was married, with a child, albeit adopted; there were plenty of logical arguments against why she shouldn't harbor the feelings for the cop she was currently harboring. She doubted it was anything different than what she had once felt for her husband before she had accepted that she was never going to return to him unless she faced Silent Hill again, and even then, their future together was uncertain. Cybil, however…Cybil was there with her, fighting alongside her, helping her and protecting her; it was to be expected that she feel more of a connection with one who had practically given her life in the hopes that Rose's might have been spared a torturous fate of blackened, blistering flesh. Perhaps it was truly only a deep friendship which drew the young mother to the equally young deputy; there was a serious doubt residing in the very depths of her mind, however; this was something much more than just friendship. But was it love? She'd grown to understand the necessities associated with actual love, but none of them seemed to suit the situation into which she and Cybil had befallen. Their relationship was something that refused to be put into words, that refused to be labeled or categorized, and one that ultimately refused to give in to pressure and allow some sort of consummation or acknowledgement of fact to occur, or to break itself into irreparable shards of broken hope. Whatever it was, it frustrated the mother as she lay there, all too comfortable in the position in which she was currently placed, but she managed to speak a few words which she hoped would be of comfort to the officer.
"I suppose I should have told you I have a few anxiety disorders, huh?"