AN:

Not much to say this time around. I beat Silent Hill 2, and it was as incredible as I remembered. I played it with a friend there for the majority of it. In the end, she felt horrible for Mary, while I felt horrible for James. They both had legitimate reasons to be bitter, but I sympathize more with James since his bitterness was a direct effect of Mary's.

Also: This part is Henry's view on the events. Let me clarify by saying that not all chapters will be like these last two. As systematic and well ordered as doing two chapters for both of their vantage points would be, it'd be too much work. As well, it'd be too much reading. Sometimes I will do both sides, but for the most part, you'll only get one. Or maybe an entire scene will play out once, but I'll switch vantage points throughout it.

To respond to some of the reviews:
-In regards to Travis: Egggh. I don't know anything about Travis, besides the fact that he stayed in Silent Hill for no real reason after arriving (besides to look for a girl he didn't know, but that's ridiculous in my opinion. Anyone would run as far away from Silent Hill as they could unless they had a real reason to stay. Like, Harry looking for his daughter, James looking for his wife, etc.), is a trucker, and must be somewhere around 50 years old now. I mean, at the end of that game, Cheryl has just been reborn, right? So then we factor in about 5 years until the events of silent hill, then another 15-17 for the events of Silent Hill 3. And then if we add in the extra five years for this story, and assume that Travis was somewhere between 20-30 in origins, he'd be somewhere between 45 and 57. But he will be a part of this story. Just a very, very small part.
-Heather being awesome like rainbow cake- I full heartedly agree
-Henry's panicked reaction- See, now you're all making me feel bad. Three chapters in, and I'm already not only upsetting people, but almost making them cry?
-Jimbo's war cry- Who's Jimbo? Keep in mind, I've only completely beaten Silent Hill 2, 4, and homecoming; so if he's from Silent Hill, 3, or origins, than I wouldn't know him. That said, I'm playing through number 3 right now, so no spoilers just yet.

Thank you all so much for your reviews! Honestly, when I went to the Silent Hill Fanfiction front page and saw that there were 10+ chapter stories with one or two reviews, I was prepared to be writing solely for myself. I'm extremely pleased to see that other people are enjoying it as well. Funnily enough, I probably wouldn't have begun writing this if I had been able to find any James/Henry story on FF. I'd just beaten number four when I started writing it, and instantly thought that the two would probably meet up at some point. So when I couldn't find any story starring the two boys, I decided I needed to write my own. This was originally going to be a one-shot, where the two just met and became friends. But then my mind started working, I thought of a plot, and Ergence came to life.
Oh, and the name Ergence is very relevant to my thematic intent. It isn't just me thinking of random words.

By the way, I'm really interested in reading what some of you all have written about Silent Hill, since I assume that most of you reading this have also written something of their own. Does anyone have anything they'd like me to read? Otherwise, I may just go all pirate on you and pillage your profiles for your stories and read whatever I want. :]

But enough of my silly chit-chat. I ramble too much anyways. I wanted to leave these author notes short, but I just love talking to people with the same interests as me, who I can discuss things with. It's a bit hard with my real life friends. I've explained the entire plots of all the Silent Hill games I've played to two of my friends, but it isn't the same as talking to someone who's played the games.

Seriously. That's it. Here's the next chapter, from Henry's POV. It broke my fingers.

Emergence

The great thing about my job at the modeling agency was that it let me sleep in. The building didn't open until 1 in the afternoon. Funnily enough, even with my healthy sleeping pattern I still look lethargic to most people no matter what I do. I don't know what it is. Probably just age getting the better of me. Damn, what a shitty thing to say when I'm only 27 years old…

Emergence

When I started my new job, I was finally able to wake up on my own schedule. Except for the occasional phone call that woke me up before 12, I woke up naturally. The only day that changed was on one of the last days of August… maybe even the last. I don't remember, dates don't matter for shit anyways.

I woke up to a knock on my door. My room is on the west side of the building, so unfortunately I had no inclination as to the time. By my extreme reluctance and general drowsiness I correctly assumed it was morning. I managed to stumble out of my bed, stub my toe on my night-stand, and throw on some clothes while trying to avoid crying out in pain. I didn't pay too much attention to what I was throwing on. When I'd finished, I looked in the mirror to make sure I wasn't clashing too terribly. A dark yellow button-up shirt over a black tee-shirt and light blue jeans. Nothing I was going to walk the red carpet with, but it worked for opening my apartment door. I yelled a quick, 'I'm coming!' as I walked down the narrow hallway of my single-bedroom apartment, busily straightening the sleeves of my shirt.

I opened the door with a yawn and blinked in surprise when I didn't see anyone in front of me. But just like a scene out of a movie, the short girl who'd knocked on my door cleared her throat and drew my attention to her. Had I been in the right mindset, I probably would've given her my best impression of a fake smile and asked her if I could help her. As I was in an irritated, tired state, I settled with a,
"Yeah?"
Before I had time to regret my brash remark, she smiled up at me.
"Henry Townshend?"
She asked, but she didn't wait for me to affirm her question. I guess she already knew.
"I live a few doors down from you."
I'm glad she didn't pause and wait for me to respond. I hate people who expect you to react to rhetorical statements.
"And before you ask, no I'm not here trying to be all neighborly or whatever. I'm just here because the guy I live with…"
She paused and pointed down the hall. I wondered what the hell she meant by 'guy I live with' when she pointed down the hall. She looked young, so I assumed it would have been a father, or an older brother. But just 'the guy I live with' implied something different. A lover? A friend? I decided to not delve into it and focused my attention back on her.
"Has pretty much been stalking you."
She ignored my quizzical look and continued undaunted,
"Don't ask me why, I don't know. I just know that he wants to talk to you but he's too scared to actually approach you."
I stared at her for a moment. Obviously I was a bit creeped out, both by what she'd said and how she'd said it. Apparently I was being stalked, but it wasn't really a big deal?

That was just ridiculous. She was probably just exaggerating on the word stalking. I waited for her to continue for a while. When she didn't, I coughed to relieve the awkward feeling.
"Okay… so…you want me to do something?"
I really had no idea what I should say. I wasn't exactly desperate to meet some guy who was stalking me.
"Are you doing anything right now?"
I really hate when people answer my questions with questions of their own. I tried to not let it show.
"Does it look like it?"
So my response was a bit infantile. It felt appropriate at the time.
"No, it really doesn't. So come with me and meet him?

A few months ago I probably would've without hesitation. I followed orders well. Or maybe I just didn't know how to say no. The whole thing with Walter and the events that ensued left me a bit more skeptical of doing what other people told me to.
"Hold on a second. I don't even know who this guy is, let alone who you are."
I couldn't hide my baffled tone. It was a strange situation in context, but it didn't feel that way. I guess I blame what happened to me in my room. After that, nothing really feels too absurd.
"Or why he wants to meet me?"

The girl rolled her eyes and grasped my wrist with one hand. I can honestly say that I've never felt hands as powerful as hers—her nails practically dug into my flesh. I didn't put up much resistance as she pulled me down the hall.
"He's James Sunderland, and I'm Laura Sunderland. And I already told you that I don't know why he wants to meet you, so why don't you just shut up already and meet him? He may be an idiot, but he isn't going to hurt you."

She turned to look back at me for a moment as she continued to pull me.
"Wait, the super's kid?"
I hadn't meant to voice my thoughts aloud, but I was actually shocked. Frank was probably the guy who thought I was the biggest nut-case out of everyone. If he'd told his son what I'd said, which I'm certain he had, why would James want to meet me? I frowned when I realized that it was probably so he could hear the story straight from my mouth. That's all people seemed to want out of me nowadays. Either that, or professional photos that cost a fortune.
"If you mean the superintendent."
She stopped in front of the door to room 309 and let go of my wrist. She fished through her pocket as I rubbed my wrist. I was really hoping it wouldn't bruise.

I followed her through the door into her apartment. Which in truth didn't look anything like an apartment. If I hadn't just come from the apartment hallway, I would've guessed it was a home. Unlike my claustrophobic, one room little thing, this place was huge; and I thought that before I'd even known that there was a downstairs too.

I don't think I or anyone in the building knew about this room. Not that any of us would've been rich enough to afford it.

Laura coughed to get my attention. I turned to see her in the dining room. By the impatient look on her face she was expecting me to follow her. I felt out of place in the huge house, and I'm certain it showed on my face. I arrived in the dining room and the silence spread on. I wished she would've said something. Even as an adult I still had problems talking to strangers. I actually never talk unless I really need to. There's no real reason behind it—I've just never been able to make idle or pointless conversation.
"Sit here, I'll go get him."

I thought about just running out as soon as she'd turned the corner into the hallway. More as a practical joke than for my well-being or anything. That girl had one strong attitude, I could only imagine her face if she'd come back to any empty room. It was a funny thought, but I was too curious to just run away. She was only gone for a moment before she came back into the room. I lifted an eye-brow when I realized that she was alone.
"Where is he?"

Laura walked over to the pantry in the other room as she spoke.
"Oh, he was asleep. He's getting dressed now."
I'm not sure why, but I'd been expecting that James would be sitting there ready to greet me. I thought that maybe he was just shy, and had sent his daughter as a guise. It seemed like he'd been caught as unprepared as I was.

Laura sat down at the table next to me with a box of graham crackers and maple syrup in hand. I wrinkled my noise at her choice of breakfast. She smiled back when she noticed my reaction of disgust. She took one of the crackers out of its package, spread a generous amount of maple syrup on it, and placed it in front of my face.
"You can't be serious."
I said, reeling my head back to get farther away from the sugary monstrosity. She just put it farther in my face and watched me expectantly. I lifted my hand and hesitantly grabbed the sticky thing. I immediately regretted the action, because she stared at me expectantly. I couldn't believe she was serious! The maple syrup was beginning to fall over the sides and stick to my fingers. I really didn't want to eat it. I didn't like maple syrup to begin with, and I couldn't imagine it would taste any better on graham crackers—another food item I'd never liked.

Putting it in my mouth seemed like a better idea than letting the thing dribble onto my lap or the table, though, so I eventually grimaced and shoved it into my mouth. A part of me had been hoping that I might be pleasantly surprised—like the time my best friend in the 8th grade forced me to eat Tomato soup with cheese microwaved into it. The graham cracker was much closer to my expectation. It was too sweet, the textures didn't mix well, and it caused me to gag. For the sake of not making a scene in some stranger's house I didn't run to the sink to spit it out. I chewed as fast as I could and finally swallowed it.

The feeling of relief was a bit dampened by Laura's laugh. I looked down to send her a glare, but laughed when I saw that she was popping one of the crackers into her mouth.
"Need a dagger to make your performance more dramatic?"
She asked me sarcastically. I had to laugh at that. It'd been gross, so I can only imagine how my reactions must have looked.
"Need a surgeon to unclog your arteries?"
I widened my eyes when I'd finished speaking. I hadn't actually thought about what I was saying as I said it. I didn't talk much, but when I did, I never had the ability to censor myself. I'd meant my comment as a joke, but I had forgotten how sensitive most teenage girls are. If she thought I was calling her fat, I would've made a life-long enemy.
"I'm sorry, I really didn't."
"I wasn't insulted, so save your whiny apologies."
She stood up from the table and shot me a knowing look,
"I'm not fat, and I'm not self-conscious."

She finished with a smile and turned to face the hallway.
"Hurry your ass up, James!"
She said before walking briskly into the kitchen to put away the crackers and syrup. I watched her for lack of anything better to do. She was wearing a school uniform—I guess that was why she was up so early. I also guessed that she'd probably timed this meeting so that she'd be able to make a fashionable get-away. She certainly looked impatient enough.

We both turned to look down the hall-way when we heard foot-steps. James Sunderland, disheveled bed-head and all, walked into the room. As I'd also predicted, he hadn't known who it was that was waiting for him. Or at least I'm pretty sure I'm correct, if the look of shock and gaping mouth were anything to go by.
"Hey. James, right?"
I asked, trying my hardest to not laugh. I wanted to sound nonchalant, but the whole meeting was too awkward to be anything other than amusing.

I felt bad for the guy. I couldn't tell whether he was just startled or if he was really that timid. He gave me a quick nod, though I don't think he knew why he was nodding. Laura saved James the embarrassment of having to find words to say by speaking again,
"He's been wanting to talk to you for a while now. He's just too much of a pussy to actually say anything."
I looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. She seemed to be taunting him, but I think she was on the same wave-length as me and was actually trying to break the silence—just in a very condescending way.

James turned to glare at her, but she caught on before he could. She quickly changed her indifferent face to an impish grin. I wondered if that was the kind of relationship they had—that question also bringing back to the surface the one of what exactly James was to Laura. I could only assume that he was her father.

Laura moved to stand closer to me when she spoke again,
"I like him. He's the only adult in this town who's greeted me with something other than 'Awwh! What a cute little girl!'"
Both James and I laughed. I'm not sure why James was laughing, but I was laughing at the sheer irony that my first instinct upon seeing her probably would've been 'Awwh! What a cute little girl!' on any normal day.
She waited for our laughter to die down before she announced,
"Well then, I'm off to school now",
and moved to grab her back-pack. It had some cartoon character on it, but I didn't recognize whoever it was. It looked like it was supposed to be Robbie Rabbit, but it was wearing a dress. She grabbed for her sack-lunch and walked towards the front door. Upon reaching it, she turned around as if it were a second thought, and looked towards me and James as she spoke to us respectively,
"See you later, Henry! Oh, and you can thank me later, James."

When she left, things predictably became awkward. James was either shocked or shy, I'm unsocial, and we were both out of our comfort zones. Plus, I assume we were both wary of one another.

An awkward pause fell between us. I tried to lighten the palpable discomfort by focusing my eyes on the ornate vase in the middle of the table. Unfortunately, decorations and knick-knacks have never been my forte, so found nothing to mention.
James moved to sit down in the chair Laura had been in. It made a soft squeaking noise as he did so. I laughed in an attempt to alleviate the tension.
"So… Laura just went to your apartment and brought you here?"
I nearly jumped when James spoke. I managed to hide the embarrassing reaction behind an amused chuckle. I could tell that he was trying to lift the mood with idle conversation, and I appreciated the effort. I'm not sure if he could tell how awkward I was feeling—months of isolation after a lifetime of an antisocial demeanor had left me with an aversion to conversations in general.
"Yeah. Good thing she caught me while I was tired, or I probably would've called her cute."
I said, hoping that I had sounded good-natured. He chuckled back, which made me smile. I have no idea if the chuckle was forced or real, though.
"So she woke you up? Sorry about that."

I have to admit, James' awkward reactions and reticent apology were somewhat endearing. I raised my right hand and shook it at a right angle once. I still want to know who created hand signals. Who decided that waving your hand in front of your face means that something doesn't matter? I responded, without thought, by saying,
"Don't worry. It was nice to have a chance to talk to her."
That sentence came with an underlying sense of embarrassment. Not because of what I had said, per se, but because of the way in which I had said it. Very uncharacteristically for myself, I had let my guard down and simply said what I wanted to—what I felt. I may not have had a censor for the vulgarity of what I said, but I was very closed off with my own feelings. I looked back up to see if he had reacted, or noticed the difference. When I looked in his eyes, though, he immediately looked away. I almost questioned his sudden aversion but I knew that would've lead to a less than pleasant conversation.

After I'd finished trying to analyze his distaste for eye contact, I realized that an uncomfortable silence had fallen between us. The whole ordeal had just been awkward. Usually when people talked to me, they had to be very chatty individuals who could do enough talking for the both of us. I'm not listing James' hesitance to speak as a negative quality, but it made for long gaps between the two of us—both quite clearly quiet people by nature.
"But,"
I said, a bit louder than my normal tone to try and capture his attention and let him know that I was breaking the silence. After all, I was there for a reason, right? He wanted to talk to me for some reason, and I wanted to know why that was. Since we were both evidently unaccustomed to social settings, I didn't see any reason in floundering around for more pointless conversation that neither of us were either willing or capable of bringing up.

He finally stopped his visual scan of the room and settled his eyes back on me. Of course not on my eyes, but my lips; It was unnerving.
"She told me that you'd been wanting to talk to me?"

It came without a segway, and it sounded awkward coming from my lips. I felt a bit like a child trying to ask his mom for something—unsure but hopeful.

"I have. Ever since I saw you in the lobby."
He quickly rushed on without giving me a chance to say anything. I felt bad for him, probably thinking that I was judging him. I also felt nervous, when he began to speak again, waiting to see what his motives for this conversation were. I had already formed a few suspicions myself.
"My dad told me what happened to you…"
At that point, he'd confirmed my suspicion. I'd nervously, and perhaps a bit foolishly, hoped that James would be different than the others.

He wasn't. Just like all of the others, all he wanted me for was to hear a fascinating story, and pat himself on the back for being better than me; or just more sane than me. That pissed the shit out of me. Mostly because he'd given me hope before crushing it down. I dealt with the confidence-shredding isolation, but I wasn't about to tolerate this indignance.

I sighed, closed my eyes, and shook my head.
"Just stop there."
I growled out. Secretly I was scared about being so offensive. I'm a 'suffer in silence' type of person, so being confrontational always felt a bit off for me. When I tried to make a point or stand up for myself, it always felt like I was acting to try and fit a part. I stood up from my chair and glared at him, surprised to see that he was finally looking me in the eye. I tried to speak with as much conviction as I could manage.
"I already know what you want... I'm not telling my story again just so one more person can laugh at me."

I pushed my chair in to try and show that I wasn't going to stick around and let him make fun of me. I turned to walk out the door when I felt James suddenly grab onto me. As unused to social contact as I am, I'm even more unaccustomed to physical contact. I whipped my head around whilst trying to yank my arm free. All that managed to do was give me a crink in my neck and put an uncomfortable strain on my shoulder. I later noted how out of shape I was.

"No, you don't!"
He was nearly shouting at me. I don't know if he meant to, but he was actually scaring me. Not in the same way I'd been scared of Walter Sullivan, which was more of an obscure fascination mixed with my desire to live, James was scaring me with the sheer intensity of his voice. Apparently I'd insulted him.
"If you think I've been practically stalking you for the last week just to get my laughs at your expense, then you're wrong!"
I barely registered what he'd said. All that really got through to me was the tone of his voice and obvious feelings of offensiveness. We looked each other in the eye—he was glaring at me, and I was faking one myself. I was still too paralyzed by the way he'd regarded me to do much more than imitate him. People didn't yell at me. People didn't really have strong feelings either way with me. I was out of place, confused, and quite honestly, a bit pleased. It was adrenaline pumping to actually be a part of an argument. Even if it was a very dormant, nervous part.

Still, I was angry with him. Not because he'd grabbed me or that he was yelling at me, but that I still didn't understand his motives, and that bothered me.

But I sat back down, rather than making a dramatic exit. If he was that mad at me for accusing him of false intentions, then he must've had something important to say to me. I looked at him after I'd sat down, fiddling with the hem of my shirt to give myself something to do. I hoped he wasn't expecting me to say something or comment on his actions. I was growing nervous with each passing second that we spent in silence, though. He'd eventually looked away, but I didn't know what that meant. I had no idea what he could expect me to say!

His sigh brought me out of my thoughts and back to the present.
"Look. I…"
I had to strain to hear him through his muttering. I would've wanted to say 'What?' and lean in closer in a normal circumstance. In hindsight, I've had to say 'in a normal circumstance' quite a bit since my endeavors in Silent Hill.
"I believe you."

He looked back up—too quickly to give me a chance to look away. I tried to meet his stare with something akin to hope or interest, but all I could meet him with was skepticism. I'd had people say the same only to have it turn out to be lies so they could get me to trust them, and then stab me in the back. At this point in the conversation I would ordinarily leave, but as I stated, there was something about James that made me want to hear him out.

"No… it's more than that. I understand what you went through. . It was Walter Sullivan, right? I never met him, but I know that he killed himself in jail after killing Billy and Miriam Locane. Right? I found a newspaper article about him when I was in Silent Hill."

I swear, I can't even begin to describe the feeling I felt after that. The best way I can think to word it is to say that as he talked about Silent Hill, which I had never mentioned to anyone besides Eileen, I felt a sudden weight on my chest. I can't think of the emotions to explain what that means. It was an undistinguishable mix of both hope and fear. I didn't know why I was suddenly so scared, but strangely unable to move.
"I know everyone thinks you're crazy, but I know what you've been through. I went to Silent Hill… as strange as it sounds, the town almost called me there. If I'm right, then I'm guessing you saw all kinds of monsters too, right? It sounds like your situation was different than mine… but I guess I… well, I just thought… you might want to talk to someone who won't treat you like a mental case as much as I want to."

I don't know why, but I've never been able to understand or analyze feelings—especially my own. So I can't explain the sudden panic I felt at James' sentence. I was scared because that finalized the truth in his words. James knew what I had gone through. Maybe… maybe I was just scared because for once, someone knew and trusted me, which meant I could trust him. But since I'm afraid of trust or any form of commitment, the thought of actually making myself vulnerable by opening up was almost unimaginable.

I think that's the reason my body seemed to move on its own. As silly as it sounds, my lips felt numb. My normal façade slipped away to the true nervousness I felt.
I quickly stood up from my chair and averted my eyes from James' own.
I did finally manage to stammer out a less than believable,
"I have to go to work.",
before quite literally running out of the door.

My mind was working at what felt like a million miles an hour. I was confronted with so many unanswered questions that I wasn't sure what to focus on first. I made it to my apartment door and fished my keys out of my pocket with shaky hands. I fumbled with the key and lock for a moment before I was finally in.

When I'd finally closed the door and collected my breath, the sudden fear was gone. The racing of thoughts slowed down just enough for me to realize something: I'd just run away from the one person who had believed me or been kind to me in six months. Even more than that, I'd run away from the person I'd wished for—the person who would be able to understand my predicament.

To say I felt like an idiot was quite the understatement. Since things had become clear and crystallized, my fear seemed like the most ridiculous thing in the world. I wished I could just rewind time so I could have a better reaction. I'd probably hurt James, and I'd definitely embarrassed myself. What was I, a school-girl who's super hot crush had just admitted to liking her? Scratch that, even a school-girl in that situation would've had a better reaction than I had. Through years of forced habit, no hint of my humiliation showed—even when I was alone.

I wondered if it was too late to leave my room and run back then. Even then, what would I say? Hey, sorry for running away from you, but I really am happy that you believe me and think we should be friends and talk more? I'm sure that would work out well. Then he'd think I was a total nutcase like everyone else. Well… not for the same reasons as everyone else, but the point still stands.

I turned around and looked out the peep-hole of my room, my paranoia once again getting the better of me. As I had safely assumed, he wasn't there.

With a resigned groan, I walked away from the door and to my couch. I had been a bit hesitant to sit on it since it'd been possessed all those months ago, but today I flopped down on it without a second thought. I rubbed my temples out of the sheer self-created stress and frustration I was putting on myself.

I knew he was mad, and I knew that if I approached him there would be an altercation. I wasn't sure if it was worth it at first. I began weighing the pros and cons. As a non-confrontational person, I quickly floated over to the side that let me ignore James Sunderland for the rest of my natural life.

I made that decision in the first second, but then my mind began to run with what the decision would imply. It meant that I was afraid—that I was alright with spending the rest of my life in mediocrity as long as I was safe.

No...

Fuck that!

I was done with that part of me. Where had it gotten me? Before the Walter Sullivan incident, it'd left me a twenty-seven year old man living in a one-bedroom apartment with no friends, no one I loved, no children, a job that barely covered my expenses, and no self-worth or goals.

Maybe the Walter Sullivan incident had finally given my life purpose. I was the 'receiver of wisdom', and I'd saved Eileen. For a few short weeks, I wasn't mediocre. I was someone special. Though I'd never wish it on myself again, Walter had chosen me to show all of his past to. Even if it was with the intent to kill me later, I had been important for that time.

So, maybe that's why I didn't want to be normal anymore. Maybe I finally wanted to pursue something that would make me happy, despite the possibility for pain and suffering that might come with it. After all, I was bored; bored of the stares, bored of the loneliness, bored of the feeling of uselessness, and bored of the life I'd forced myself to live.

That epiphany didn't all come to me in one moment; I'm not that philosophical. I spent all day in my apartment trying to figure it, myself, and my thoughts out.