Silent Hill: (FIC) Like a Promise (PG) Heather/Douglas.
Title: Like a Promise
Rating: PG
Pairing: Heather/Douglas
Disclaimer: Konami owns Silent Hill.
Summary: She doesn't want him to treat her like a child because she certainly didn't feel like one.
For: haku_kaen at fic_on_demand for previously unfulfilled request.
Heather looked to the side as she drove out of Silent Hill, sincerely hoping never to venture back there again. Douglas held his side as he tried to breathe slowly through the pain he was no doubt feeling. He was still bleeding, despite the makeshift bandage she’d wrapped around his wound.
Pressing down on the gas, she drove faster towards the nearest hospital. Hopefully the nurses, she morbidly thought with an amused grin, were living and lacked steel pipes and revolvers.
“We’ll be at the hospital soon,” she said as she sped down the road that wasn’t there only hours before. “No dead things there, ‘cept maybe at the morgue.”
Douglas laughed for a moment before cringing. “Strange child.”
She rolled her eyes at him, feeling far too old to even be considered anything close to a child. “Shut up, old man,” she responded playfully.
Fiddling with the radio, Heather turned on some music, silently cheering the lack of white noise. It was Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring that she found first. Hesitating with her fingers still on the knob, she debated for a moment before turning up the volume and driving onward.
There were seventeen magazines in the hospital visiting area. Three discussed the upcoming marriages of now-recently defunct Hollywood relationships. Seven detailed the sports of the week, including the ideal woman of one marginally handsome quarterback. Five were already drawn and coloured in children’s magazines and the remaining ones boldly proclaimed the failures of two world leaders.
She was grateful he was going to be released today because reading about the Kansas City Chief’s mediocre football season more than three times would inevitably lead to a tantrum of some sort and a newly found hatred of the N.F.L., and she rather enjoyed the sport.
Douglas finally emerged from his hospital room wearing a worn tweed coat and faded blue jeans carrying a small white bag with the rest of his things. She stood and went to him, his wearing eyes meeting hers.
“Let’s go home,” she said as he walked beside her towards the exit.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Home?”
Shaking her head, she pushed the button for the elevator. “Yeah, home.”
“Still have the car?” he asked with a slight grin as he opened the passenger side of the car. It was the same one she used to drive him here, stolen from the side of the road in Silent Hill. She doubted very much that the owner was alive, and she had no intention of driving back to find out.
Starting the car, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I doubt that anything there would want it anyhow.”
“True enough.” He rolled down the window, and stared unblinkingly out at the world as she drove.
Heather hated the silence. Hated it more than she could say. It reminded her of those days with her father. Those times when she hadn’t realised they were being tracked down and he father would worry, not saying a word.
“Hungry?” she asked as they passed a sign for a diner coming up on their left.
Douglas thought for a moment before replying, “Sure.”
The diner was small, and seemed as if customers came less often than the cleaning service, but she sat down regardless and looked at the one-page menu. Douglas mirrored her actions, not bothering to look beyond the seven items on the page.
A waitress with a ratty bun, wearing a gingham apron approached them after a few minutes. “Whadda y’all have?”
“A coffee and an English muffin,” Douglas answered as he set down the menu. “Two creams. Three sugars. Apple jelly if you have it. Grape if you don’t.”
The waitress turned to face her, and she stared at the menu for another minute. “I’ll have a coffee. With milk. One sugar. Plain bagel, grilled, with cream cheese.”
The waitress scribbled it down with a pencil she’d taken out from her bun. “Sure thing, hon.”
Once they were alone, Douglas looked up at her, something clearly on his mind. “I’m heading back tomorrow. To California.”
Her head shot up at once. “No.”
The waitress then came back with their order, preventing further conversation. As soon as she was behind the counter, Douglas began to speak again.
“I think it’s for the best. You should do something. Go to college. Make yourself a good life. Just get as far away from here as possible.” He took a sip of his coffee as if doing so made all his words right and legitimate.
Heather shook her head. “Don’t leave. Stay here,” she asked before adding, “with me.”
Looking up at her in surprise, Douglas stared at her for a moment. “With you?”
“Yes, with me. Don’t abandon me.” She felt guilty for manipulating him this way, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving…leaving her alone.
She watched as the emotions passed over his face, the ghost of his wife and son haunting him like little else could. “You’re young. You should go to college. Meet someone your own age.”
“I can’t stop thinking about it. Silent Hill. Vincent. Claudia. My father. I see it whenever I close my eyes. You understand. You know what it was like there.”
Douglas reached across the table, and took her hands in his. “I couldn’t save them. I almost led you to your death. I can’t be a father to you.”
She laughed, but didn’t let go of his hand. “My father was Harry Mason. I don’t need another. No one can replace him. None of that matters anymore. It’s just us. Why can’t it always be just us?”
Sighing, he took another drink of his coffee. “Heather.”
Leaning across the table, she said firmly, “It’s Cheryl. Don’t go.”
He lowered his eyes a fraction, but she could tell he was wavering. He spoke to the table in a voice barely above whisper. “I’ll stay.”
Closing the distance, she leaned further and kissed him lightly on the lips. He resisted, but only for a minute before he kissed her back. It felt like a promise.
The car broke down only miles after they left the diner. She didn’t let the smile fall from her face because he put his arm around her as they left the car abandoned. He took her hand in his, kissing it, and said nothing as they slowly walked the road towards Silent Hill.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Heather/Douglas
Disclaimer: Konami owns Silent Hill.
Summary: She doesn't want him to treat her like a child because she certainly didn't feel like one.
For: haku_kaen at fic_on_demand for previously unfulfilled request.
Heather looked to the side as she drove out of Silent Hill, sincerely hoping never to venture back there again. Douglas held his side as he tried to breathe slowly through the pain he was no doubt feeling. He was still bleeding, despite the makeshift bandage she’d wrapped around his wound.
Pressing down on the gas, she drove faster towards the nearest hospital. Hopefully the nurses, she morbidly thought with an amused grin, were living and lacked steel pipes and revolvers.
“We’ll be at the hospital soon,” she said as she sped down the road that wasn’t there only hours before. “No dead things there, ‘cept maybe at the morgue.”
Douglas laughed for a moment before cringing. “Strange child.”
She rolled her eyes at him, feeling far too old to even be considered anything close to a child. “Shut up, old man,” she responded playfully.
Fiddling with the radio, Heather turned on some music, silently cheering the lack of white noise. It was Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring that she found first. Hesitating with her fingers still on the knob, she debated for a moment before turning up the volume and driving onward.
There were seventeen magazines in the hospital visiting area. Three discussed the upcoming marriages of now-recently defunct Hollywood relationships. Seven detailed the sports of the week, including the ideal woman of one marginally handsome quarterback. Five were already drawn and coloured in children’s magazines and the remaining ones boldly proclaimed the failures of two world leaders.
She was grateful he was going to be released today because reading about the Kansas City Chief’s mediocre football season more than three times would inevitably lead to a tantrum of some sort and a newly found hatred of the N.F.L., and she rather enjoyed the sport.
Douglas finally emerged from his hospital room wearing a worn tweed coat and faded blue jeans carrying a small white bag with the rest of his things. She stood and went to him, his wearing eyes meeting hers.
“Let’s go home,” she said as he walked beside her towards the exit.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Home?”
Shaking her head, she pushed the button for the elevator. “Yeah, home.”
“Still have the car?” he asked with a slight grin as he opened the passenger side of the car. It was the same one she used to drive him here, stolen from the side of the road in Silent Hill. She doubted very much that the owner was alive, and she had no intention of driving back to find out.
Starting the car, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I doubt that anything there would want it anyhow.”
“True enough.” He rolled down the window, and stared unblinkingly out at the world as she drove.
Heather hated the silence. Hated it more than she could say. It reminded her of those days with her father. Those times when she hadn’t realised they were being tracked down and he father would worry, not saying a word.
“Hungry?” she asked as they passed a sign for a diner coming up on their left.
Douglas thought for a moment before replying, “Sure.”
The diner was small, and seemed as if customers came less often than the cleaning service, but she sat down regardless and looked at the one-page menu. Douglas mirrored her actions, not bothering to look beyond the seven items on the page.
A waitress with a ratty bun, wearing a gingham apron approached them after a few minutes. “Whadda y’all have?”
“A coffee and an English muffin,” Douglas answered as he set down the menu. “Two creams. Three sugars. Apple jelly if you have it. Grape if you don’t.”
The waitress turned to face her, and she stared at the menu for another minute. “I’ll have a coffee. With milk. One sugar. Plain bagel, grilled, with cream cheese.”
The waitress scribbled it down with a pencil she’d taken out from her bun. “Sure thing, hon.”
Once they were alone, Douglas looked up at her, something clearly on his mind. “I’m heading back tomorrow. To California.”
Her head shot up at once. “No.”
The waitress then came back with their order, preventing further conversation. As soon as she was behind the counter, Douglas began to speak again.
“I think it’s for the best. You should do something. Go to college. Make yourself a good life. Just get as far away from here as possible.” He took a sip of his coffee as if doing so made all his words right and legitimate.
Heather shook her head. “Don’t leave. Stay here,” she asked before adding, “with me.”
Looking up at her in surprise, Douglas stared at her for a moment. “With you?”
“Yes, with me. Don’t abandon me.” She felt guilty for manipulating him this way, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving…leaving her alone.
She watched as the emotions passed over his face, the ghost of his wife and son haunting him like little else could. “You’re young. You should go to college. Meet someone your own age.”
“I can’t stop thinking about it. Silent Hill. Vincent. Claudia. My father. I see it whenever I close my eyes. You understand. You know what it was like there.”
Douglas reached across the table, and took her hands in his. “I couldn’t save them. I almost led you to your death. I can’t be a father to you.”
She laughed, but didn’t let go of his hand. “My father was Harry Mason. I don’t need another. No one can replace him. None of that matters anymore. It’s just us. Why can’t it always be just us?”
Sighing, he took another drink of his coffee. “Heather.”
Leaning across the table, she said firmly, “It’s Cheryl. Don’t go.”
He lowered his eyes a fraction, but she could tell he was wavering. He spoke to the table in a voice barely above whisper. “I’ll stay.”
Closing the distance, she leaned further and kissed him lightly on the lips. He resisted, but only for a minute before he kissed her back. It felt like a promise.
The car broke down only miles after they left the diner. She didn’t let the smile fall from her face because he put his arm around her as they left the car abandoned. He took her hand in his, kissing it, and said nothing as they slowly walked the road towards Silent Hill.