Henry was about to ask what she meant, but she suddenly stood up so fast it startled him yet again, grabbing her bag while stopping her chair from wheeling into the desk from her force. "Hold on just a second," she murmured offhandedly as she stuffed a few stray items (pad, pen, etcetera) into her bag before grabbing her jacket.

He wasn't exactly sure what to do, so he just slowly stood up and watched as she flitted around the room at a furious pace. "Melissa!" she suddenly called out. They heard something drop – sounded like papers and something a bit heavier – before the girl behind the desk outside yanked the door open.

"Y-Yes, Doctor Roberts?" she blurted with a brief series of pants, looking like she... Quite frankly, was startled right out of her chair. What the hell...? She must be new here, to be so jumpy...

"Can you cancel my appointments for… Hm. At least one thirty today."

She gaped at the doctor. "Excuse me?"

Kate waved her off. "Most of them canceled their appointments for the morning anyway. There should only be a couple!"

"Can I ask why?"

"No."

"… Okay," she reluctantly agreed with a nod before going back to her desk, hastily picking up whatever she dropped.

"Where are you going?" Henry asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer. For all he knew, she could be going to see about getting him a room in a mental ward somewhere – especially with the skepticism of that last series of questions. He still couldn't believe he'd let that bit about monsters and the hole in his room slip so freely. There was no way he sounded the least bit mentally stable at this point.

But all she did was shrug into her jacket, pulling her mass of curls out of it before smiling slightly. "We are going to look up some info on Walter Sullivan. I still don't know all the facts myself, so wouldn't it be kind of unfair for me to insist what is or isn't impossible if I don't even know what happened?"

He couldn't stop himself from letting out a tiny sigh of relief, which made her smile turn into a grin. "So. Let's go."

Henry followed her out of the office, to the elevator, and through the lobby, trying to keep up with her quick pace; it reminded him to an uncomfortable degree of his mother. He never did understand how women could walk at all in the high heels they wore, let alone this fast.

"Leavin' early, Miss Roberts?" a security guard called out.

She glanced his way, not slowing her pace at all. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I am. See ya later, Norm."

"Be careful, now."

"Of course I will!" she replied cheerfully over her shoulder, zipping through the two sets of doors that led outside. She finally slowed to a stop as she started looking around the somewhat-crowded parking lot. "Hmm, where did I park again?" she wondered as Henry slowed to stand beside her, again not sure of what else to do except follow her lead.

"Uh... I could always drive –"

"Mm, no need, I'll find it," she said lazily, holding up her car keys and pressing the lock button. They heard a chirp of her car not long afterward, rousing a carefree grin from the petite woman. "See?"

Henry nodded and headed for his car, unable to help but wonder how this woman functioned on her own at all; much less how she became so qualified at such an early age. He hadn't walked more than five feet when she suddenly asked, "Hey, where're you goin'?"

"... To my car. I was going to follow you," he said carefully. Where did she think he was going? The doctor shook her head, walking at that quick pace of hers again to catch up with him.

"Ohhh no, we're going in my car. For one thing, you're officially under my supervision. Doctor-patient legal terms and all that. I don't wanna get sued by your mother if you get in a wreck or something, I can already tell she's not too happy with me," she said simply, looking up at him matter-of-factly. The most he could give was a reluctant nod, which she clearly wasn't satisfied with. She tapped her foot impatiently.

"Well? I don't wanna have to drag you by the arm, Henry. Since I'm younger and shorter than you, I'd imagine it'd be pretty damn embarrassing."

"Let's just get going."

Kate seemed satisfied enough with that, giving a cheerful nod as she made a beeline once more for her car. Demanding, too… Just like mom. It roused a cringe out of him.

She led the way to an old seafoam Toyota. "1997 Toyota Tercel," she informed him, catching him looking. "I could probably get a better car with my salary, but Alfred's grown on me."

"... Alfred?" he repeated, looking at the car questioningly. She paused in trying to jam the keys into the lock on the driver's door, looking at him as if it were obvious.

"Yeah. The car. I named him Alfred. It suits him, don't you think?"

Honestly, he was wondering how she became a psychiatrist when she seemed to need some kind of help herself, but nodded anyway.

"Well? You just gonna stand there looking at Alfred? He doesn't bite. ... Although, the doors get stuck, so don't hesitate to yank it open," she informed him as she practically wrenched her own door open before calmly sliding in.

Henry let out a breath before yanking his door open as well. It resisted the motion at first, but swung out with a slight creak anyway. Against his better judgment on the whole situation, he climbed in. The car itself was comfy enough, and relatively clean. Almost before she'd even started the car, Doctor Roberts was twisting open a travel-sized bottle of Jack Daniels and taking a swig or two.

Man, the way she's throwing that back, she must drink a lot... That, or she took lessons in a lot more than psychiatry in college. Maybe both...

"Want some?" she offered, and he shook his head. He was already bewildered enough by this whole thing, so he decided staying in the most rational state of mind as possible was a good way to go.

She shrugged. "Suit yourself. Do you drink at all, Henry?"

"On occasion."

"How much is 'on occasion'?" she asked, pulling out of the lot and speeding into traffic. Granted, she seemed to be an alright driver from that point on.

"Well, not daily, but every now and then..." he replied, not really knowing what else to say – was she really analyzing his own drinking habits? She was at a rare loss of words as well, apparently. They sat in silence for what felt like an hour, but according to the radio's clock, it was only ten minutes.

Twelve.

Sixteen.

Twenty.

Twenty-four.

Twenty-seven.

"Where exactly are we going?" he asked suddenly, making her jump and drop the bottle's cap she'd been fumbling with.

"Aw, dammit," she muttered, trying to keep her eyes on the road while fumbling blindly on the floorboard for the top.

"I-I'll get it, just focus on driving!" he blurted as she started to swerve a little. Her searching hand immediately zoomed back up to the steering wheel, nodding quickly as she just barely dodged oncoming traffic.

"... Good idea."

The top happened to be black, just like the floorboard, so he was having about the same amount of luck she'd been having.

"Anyway, we're going to the Town Archives."

"Ashfield has that?" he wondered, still looking for the top.

"Eeyup. Down at the main library. It's down in the basement. ...Creepy place at night."

Great. Just what he needed. More creepy places. As if daily life hadn't gotten creepy enough lately. He still hadn't really told her in full about that... He figured if he told her about the hallucinations, she'd really think he was crazy. Then again, he'd figured the same outcome for just about everything he'd admitted to her so far. But hallucinations... To confirm he had them, even if she'd already assumed as much, would definitely do the trick. Any psychiatrist would write you off as crazy at that point, it was basic common knowledge.

He had been busy mulling it over, so when his hand found something hard he jumped a little. So did Doctor Roberts, bringing her heel down on his hand out of reflex.

They both cried out – she for feeling her shoe dig into something fleshy and he in pain.

"Oh! ... Sorry about that," she muttered apologetically as he rubbed his hand.

"No, sorry, that was my fault," he assured her, finally finding the cap and picking it up; he waited until a red light to safely hand it over. She smiled apologetically and took it, blowing it a little before taking one more swig from the bottle and putting the cap in its rightful place. Why she didn't finish it off when there was only about two sips' worth, he had no idea.

"... I'm still sorry," she informed him, appearing a little flushed.

He glanced at the mark on his hand before shaking his head. "I've been through worse. It's fine."

... And then they returned, a bit gratefully, to their prolonged silence.

Kate drove the rest of the way in silence, not able to think of something to say after crushing her patient's hand. That was a first. Fortunately, it wasn't long before they pulled into the Ashfield Public Library, and they both sighed in relief. "Finally! ... Not because I felt awkward or anything. ... My ass… Hurts if I stay in one place too long," she added lamely, not even sure as the words were coming out of her mouth why the hell she was saying that. Henry didn't reply to that train wreck of a phrase, thank God, and she shook her head quickly before locking her car and walking briskly for the entrance – both out of haste and due to a noticeable drop in temperature on this side of town.

She breezed past the children's section and the various librarians flitting around throughout, all the way to the back of the library. Kate stopped abruptly, however, to dig in her bag for the card ID necessary past that point, and she heard Henry's shoes squeak as he tried not to run into her. "Sorry. Forgot I needed this thing," she muttered, nearly her whole head submerged inside the depths of her shoulder bag… She really needed to clean that thing out someday soon.

Today was not that day.

Finally, she found it next to her wallet in a zipper pocket, and with a triumphant cry, held it up for all to see. She attempted to ignore the hiss it earned her from the nearest librarian, reluctantly lowering her hand in an attempt to remain at least somewhat professional.

... Well, as professional as she could look after crushing a patient's hand with her heel. She still felt really bad for that.

"So... The public can't come down here?" he asked as she slid the ID card through a slot. The little light on the console turned green with a tiny beeping noise of confirmation, and she opened the heavy frosted-glass door before turning to look at him.

"Nope. I'm one of the exceptions. Being a high-and-mighty psychiatrist and all that." Actually, she'd had a copy made by an ex that she was thankfully still on fair terms with. He had access because his dad worked for the town's historical department, and she really did like the idea of being able to look up extra information on various patients and projects. Her mentor had taken her along in her graduate school years when asked to profile criminals and their behavior, and they had undergone many a sleepless night within both the library and its archives. "... This should be fun. Okay, let's see... If Walter Sullivan really expired, any record of his death would be over here," she explained thoughtfully, strolling over to the section labeled "Ashfield Newspaper Archive".

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I don't keep up with current events around here, but if Walter ever died in prison, it'd make big news. ... At least, the way my mom goes on about him, it should..."

"Does she know him?" he asked as they rifled through newspaper copies. Kate noticed he used present tense, but didn't comment on it. She just shook her head, pulling out a huge stack so she could go through them quickly at a table.

"No, she's just... I don't know. Obsessed wouldn't be the right word, but she definitely kept track of just about anything regarding Walter Sullivan while I lived at home. If he was mentioned in the news, odds were she was glued to the television set. She told us he was dead about a week before I moved back to Maine. Not that I cared if he was dead or not, I barely knew who he was back then," she rambled, skimming headlines.

"That was back in '97, so look for articles from then," she added suddenly after a few minutes of looking aimlessly, wanting to pinch herself for not thinking of that sooner.

"... I didn't know who he was, either, until a matter of months ago," he commented quietly. Kate knew what he was implying, so she decided to leave it lingering in the air for now and keep looking.

After a few minutes, she sighed exasperatedly. "Do you have some kind of sticky stains on your papers, too?"

"... Actually, yes. I think it's chocolate."

"I hope it's chocolate," she grumbled, attempting to avoid the brown smears as best she could while fumbling through pages upon pages of news she couldn't care less about. Although, it was kind of interesting to see the shift in news. One day, the front page would have a picture of a school having a fundraiser or a graduation, or someone new heading into office as mayor, etcetera. And then occasionally, the headline would read about gang-related deaths or an important person's disappearance. Soon it would be right back to some holiday parade or improvements on the city itself.

It seemed so random, Ashville's good sides and bad ones. It wasn't consistent at all, and very few – if any – of its negative headlines had to do with Walter Sullivan.

"I found something," Henry said suddenly, making her jump with a soft yelp and drop her papers. She started to pick them up, but finally just left them there for the time being and went to see what he'd found. They both read it over silently, with Kate trying her best to peek over his shoulder. The heels certainly helped.

"Silent Hill's police department announced today that Walter Sullivan, who was arrested
on the 18th of this month for the
brutal murder of two local children, committed
suicide in his jail cell on the
morning of the 22nd.

According to the police
statement, Sullivan used a soup
spoon to stab himself in the neck,
severing his carotid artery.
By the time the guard discovered
him, Sullivan was dead from blood
loss, the spoon buried two inches
in his neck.

Silent Hill Gazette reports, "An old schoolmate of Walter
Sullivan's from his hometown of
Pleasant River said 'He didn't
look like the type of guy who
would kill kids.

But I do remember that just
before they arrested him, he
was blurting out all sorts of
strange stuff like 'He's trying
to kill me. He's trying to
punish me. The monster...the
red devil. Forgive me. I did it,
but it wasn't me!'. '

The schoolmate then added,
'I guess now that I think of it,
he was kinda crazy.'"

Kate shook her head. "Suicide with a soup spoon...? Sullivan had quite the flair for the dramatic… Guess he found himself caught in a corner." She then sighed. "Well, there you have it, Henry. Walter Sullivan's rotting in a grave somewhere. … Although I can't help but wonder what this clipping's doing shoved in here, seeing as it's from several towns over," she added thoughtfully.

He continued to stare at the report, seemingly oblivious to her ramblings. "... This can't be all there is. He mentioned his grave was empty."

"He who? Walter?"

Before Henry could answer, several papers fell out of his hand from behind the newspaper article. They bent to pick them up, and Kate shook her head. "I'd love to know whose bright idea it was to eat chocolate while handling these... That's gotta be some kind of violation or something. I mean –" she cut herself off once a certain heading caught her eye. She picked up the article slowly, skimming it over. Henry paused in picking up the papers, watching her expression change from confused to intrigued, and finally to an expression so mixed it was difficult to describe.

"... Whoever 'he' is, he was right. Walter's grave was empty in Silent Hill. ... And apparently, there was a number carved on the tombstone that matched the numbers carved onto the victims. '11121'? The police exhumed his grave and there was nothing there." Kate's mind flitted through the new possibilities. Henry could still be suffering from delusions and nightmares from some underlying trauma, it was still very possible. Or... He could have a legitimate connection to Walter Sullivan, one that remained to fully be seen. Which meant he could be an extremely important key in finding a serial killer. There was only one way to find out.

She turned suddenly to look at him, making him jump for what had to be the eightieth time that day. "... Henry, this changes my whole outlook on this entirely. You're gonna have to explain everything to me. Every detail of what you experienced with Walter Sullivan, no matter how small or painful. But first, I need your permission for something."

"For what?" he asked, and she could tell he was feeling rather relieved – and maybe even triumphant – that she seemed to believe him, even marginally.

"I need your permission to schedule a CT scan, just to be sure you don't have a brain tumor of any kind. If you had a brain tumor, it would explain what you've been experiencing. It could also mean early identification if you haven't had seizures yet, which is incredibly good news. If there's no tumor... Well, we'll go from there."

He didn't answer for a few moments, so she picked up the rest of the papers and began putting them back. Her movements were sluggish, as reluctant as his thoughts as he attempted to form a coherent response out of them. Finally, he spoke again. "... You think I might have a tumor?"

"To be honest, I don't know what the hell's going on right now, I'm still processing this. You either have a tumor, have some underlying trauma manifesting itself in an extremely dangerous way, or you're telling the truth and there's still a mass murderer on the loose. Hence why I want to eliminate the possibility of a tumor. I'm trying to determine your credibility," she commented, grabbing her bag and sliding it back over her shoulder before looking at him. The grave manner of her hazel gaze, now much more grey than they were blue, left no room to question her sincerity.

He looked down at the papers in his hands before nodding slowly and putting them back where he'd gotten them. "... Well... I guess I don't really have a choice. If I say no, I'd just look even crazier and you wouldn't believe a word I say. So... I guess I'm getting a CT scan."

She nodded ever so slightly, and he could still practically see the gears turning in her head. "I knew you'd see it my way."