White Light White Heat White Halls [BPRD Hospital] ((Open Thread))
The Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense is, in some universes, still sort of kind of quasi a little bit secret. This means that they like very much to keep track of their agents and the people connected with them, especially when they've just come bounding in from hell dimensions carrying god knows what diseases or terrible demon
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Liz's husband isn't here when Eileen stops at her room; he must be off getting tests or treatment or something. God only knows he needs it. Eileen frowns at the room empty except for its patient. Even though Liz's asleep, still, she ought to have company if she can. Eileen quietly takes a seat, trying not to wake her. Providing a bit of presence until one of the family can be here is the least she can do.
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She's standing in the doorway.
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"Cheryl, you're...! I mean, yeah, that's... that's what Becky said." Eileen's only got about thirty questions waiting in the wings for her, but only one of them's really all that important. "Are you?"
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"I want to ask if you went back there, but, if this isn't a good time, I understand." Demanding that someone talk about Silent Hill is probably never going to be in her; Lord only knows that she hadn't wanted to the time... no, it's not 'the time' she'd been there anymore. It's 'the first time' now.
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"When Valtiel showed himself to me, he was operating something. I never could figure out what, but it gave me an idea of what he was and how the Otherworld worked... or at least, once I remembered who I am, it did.
"So I went into the Otherworld looking for Valtiel, which... was an amazingly stupid idea, all things being equal. I didn't think you lot would be running in there anytime soon, and I'll admit... Silent Hill and all it's spawned off feels more like my problem than anything else. I wanted to handle it."
She looks around herself with a profound distaste for her surroundings; not Liz or Eileen, but the hospital.
"I'm not entirely certain what happened. I know I found what I was looking for, and I know I was able to reverse some of Walter's plans. I managed to alter some things about his realm..." she shakes her head, "...but this is the point where the whole thing gets terribly abstract. I doubt I'll ever know exactly what happened in there."
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But, altered things about Walter's realm? Eileen hasn't heard yet what had happened to the other two groups, or even most of what happened to the four people she was quickly separated from, but even just from her own experiences, a dozen possibilities immediately come to mind. Was it Cheryl who reunited the fourteen of them, or Walter bringing them in for the kill? Did she tell them how to pin the ghosts at the end? The ammunition in the subway, or in the wrapped box, was that her doing, or Walter's fixation? Why was the front door to South Ashfield Heights unlocked (kind of) this time? What about the pickaxe in the door?
"When you say you 'altered things,' do you mean, altered things," she makes a little rectangle with her hands, then spreads them out by a couple feet, "or altered things? Do you know which plans y..." But, Cheryl looks pretty uncomfortable, and her look of aversion is easily enough interpreted; Eileen's heard her comment on her feelings about hospital settings a few times now. "Hey, would you rather go outside? Or down to one of the other levels? I'm pretty sure I can step out for a bit, they've decided they don't need to quarantine me or anything."
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She cheers up remarkably and obviously upon stepping outside, tilting her face up to what sunlight there is. Even what they're talking about seems somehow better.
"Walter had made certain deals with... whatever it is we're referring to when we just say 'the town,'" Alessa says, her eyes closed. "He wasn't living up to his end of the deal. Lisa told him that. I've no idea what the details were, but I'm certain we can both make a few informed guesses.
"Valtiel wasn't quite as trapped as Walter had hoped he would be. I offered him a way out of his predicament, in exchange for certain things. When I realized where some of you were, I did as I did for my father... gifts, when I could, and the occasional ease of passage. Mostly, though, I remember saying something about Henry's ritual and its cost, and the sensation of something being confirmed."
She opens her eyes and looks back at Eileen. "I'm afraid that's why I wasn't making a damned bit of sense for a while, though you were in no shape to notice. When you get deep enough in the Otherworld, it's almost like it..." She makes a sort of vague gesture. "...becomes a language. It's difficult to explain."
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"'Gifts'? Oh! Yeah, thank you, I... I think I got one." Of course. Even in the state she was in at the time, the box had been to obviously dramatically out of place. It didn't belong. Because everything else in there was either a byproduct of Walter's violent nature or a signpost intentionally leading them to where he wanted to be, receiving an actual gift had stuck out like white at a funeral.
And the price paid for the ritual Henry performed... She takes a shuddering breath of clear mountain air. "I haven't talked with Henry yet really, but, they said he's all right, and he's himself." Between their careful modifications to the ritual procedure, Hermes' protection, and Cheryl's protection now as well, "It worked. What you did, it worked."
She'd thank the girl profusely if it was her place to do so. And anyways, she can't gush until she's entirely sure that this is a blessing without bloodletting. "You didn't have to... pay anything back yourself, did you?"
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She runs a hand through her hair; it's gone most of the way back to black, now. "Still... I'm alive, unhurt, and I'm not insane, and the damned town didn't claim anyone else. That's something, then."
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Clouds trip over mountain peaks on the horizon sometimes, and she heaves a sigh as though still expelling the filth of Walter's world from her lungs. Okay, so, profuse apology, not her place, but she'd feel terribly remiss saying nothing in that vein at all. "Thank you, Cheryl. Henry and Liz get the big gratitude stuff, but I'm allowed a little, hmm? Just let us know next time, if you can? We didn't know where you were, kinda worried," she notes, for the sake of reminding the younger - older? - girl that her absence does indeed go unnoticed rather than with any intention to chastise.
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"I don't need much in the way of gratitude," she says. "One way or another, Walter and I were going to wind up at cross purposes. I'm just fortunate that he didn't make friends easily... and despite myself, I seem to."
She grins a little lopsidedly, but the facial expression is like bad tailoring. It hangs oddly on her.
"And as I said, Silent Hill feels like my problem. I had hoped to do something about it before the rest of you had to go in at all. I suppose it all worked out in the end, though."
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She takes a step back to lean against the wall, though her back prickles at the pressure. "Guess I understand that. Walter sure as hell feels like mine. Felt, feels, whatever." She'd love to say 'felt,' but even though she's certain that this Walter is dead, she's also more than a little certain that she'll have to ante up again back home, some time distant enough from today that she can't worry about it. She'll just feel tired. "As far as that place goes, guess it worked out as well as it was ever going to, though."
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Eventually she stirs, eyes snapping open. "Henr--oh. Eileen...hi. Do you know where Henry is?"
Hopefully she can be forgiven for being somewhat obsessively single-minded.
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"I can't tell where he is, but I know he's around." For the moment this is enough, apparently. She sits up and pushes the hair out of her eyes, trying to blink the sleep from them. "Not that I'm not grateful for the company, but...should you be out of bed?"
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