((Augh. I wrote this nearly a year ago. _ There are plenty of little bits I'm not proud of, but changing those bits would affect the following chapters, three of which I've finished, so I fixed what I could and decided to post. Maybe the feedback would make updating a bit easier, I figured. xD My good friend had a bigger hand in convincing me to post. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have posted Indulgence, either. xD Anyway, enjoy the fic and do give constructive criticism, please? 3

The pairing is Walter/Henry, just as a warning to those of you who don't like slash/yaoi/boy on boy. Rating is mature for future sexual content, violence and gore, and a small amount of cursing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Hill or its characters. I do not intend to make any tangible profit from writing this fic, so please don't sue me. ))

It wasn't over.

Henry could tell.

He was far away from that old apartment, now. He lived in the mountains over four hundred miles away from South Ashfield. He had returned to his old hobby of photography, and he'd made a great deal of friends. He was having a wonderful time, and his job was going well, too.

But none of that seemed to get his mind off the fact that Walter wasn't dead. How Henry knew this, he wasn't sure. But he did.

Henry could still picture him. Tall, long dirty blonde hair, and emerald eyes that bored oh so calmly right into one's skull. It was as if he could see right into one's thoughts—right into their very being. Just the thought of him sent a shudder down Henry's back.

Walter was a strange one, that was for sure. His presence was so…peaceful, despite the fact that he'd murdered twenty people, including himself. And he always had that smile on his face, like he was sure that things would work out for him in the end, that at the expense of twenty other people, he'd get what he wanted.

But at the same time, Henry pitied Walter. His belief that Room 302 was his mother had stemmed from the fact that it had 'sheltered' him when he was a baby—when his real parents had abandoned him. And then, he'd been brainwashed by those cultists at the Wish House. He had truly believed it was alright to risk the lives of twenty one people in order to revive just one.

Poor guy.

But that still didn't dismiss the fact that he'd tried to kill Henry. He couldn't let his guard down around the guy.

And he'd killed Eileen. Her piercing scream still rang through Henry's ears, along with the grotesque slicing sound that the machine had made when it had taken her life.

None of this ever seemed to faze Walter. He seemed so completely oblivious to the fact that he was taking the lives of people—causing grief for their families and friends, and ending their lives too early. Even when Eileen had died, that passive expression remained firm on his face, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

He probably didn't care, as long as he was with his precious mother.

As Henry headed down the path in the mountains and toward his home, he continued to ponder the issue. He rolled his camera back and forth in his hands, letting out a long sigh. It seemed as if he could never eliminate the man from his thoughts.

It felt as if Walter was breathing down his neck, yet that was impossible. He was hundreds of miles away! Regardless, Henry waved a hand behind him and ordered plainly, "Leave me alone."

And he could've sworn he'd heard that oh-so-placid voice right behind him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up.

"Come visit, Henry."

The brunette stopped dead in his tracks, too frightened to even turn his head. His eyes shifted from side to side, his heart racing. The camera dropped from his right hand and fell onto the soft earthen path. He didn't dare move his feet or turn around. He was afraid that Walter would be there, gun in hand, ready to finish what he'd started.

Ten minutes later though, the mountains were still completely silent, and Henry had regained his willingness to move once more. He bent down and picked up the now-dirty camera, then continued down the path and in the direction of his home.


"He's coming to visit." His green eyes lit up at the thought, and he faced his younger counterpart, a smile on his face. "That means we can see Mom."

The younger Walter gave his older self a confused look. It was obvious he still didn't understand why Henry's death gave them the ability to wake up his mother, but he was afraid to argue with the other, so he merely kept his mouth shut and gave a nod, his eyes scanning the floor beneath his feet.

"I think we should get ready." The older Walter stated, grabbing the hand of his younger self.