Author Intro: Despite the third HR film being a favourite of mine along with Hellbound, the ending it was given was weak in my opinion. Here, I have written my own suggested ending. Nothing too long or complicated. It's actually based upon the comic book adaptation ending rather than the original movie script ending, which I'll be using for a future Alternate HR3 story involving Kirsty. For now, this is set within the movie, and just an incredibly short 'what if?' moment following Unbound Pinhead and Elliot's joining. I haven't gone into too much detail, and really it's because I wanted to focus all my energies into my upcoming Alternate HR3 stories. I didn't want to burn myself out before I begun on those. For now, I hope you enjoy this. Thanks for reading. Feedback is very welcome. - Laura

Hellraiser III Alternate Ending

Joey Summerskill squinted at the blinding flash that erupted between the Captain and his unhinged other half, her vision bleary through tears, helplessly watching as id and ego were forced together. They were merging as one, and it wasn't a pretty sight. It was clearly painful for both sides, man and monster roaring in utter agony as their flesh and minds progressively entwined and fused.

Joey sobbed...for Elliot, for the creature that was born of his darkest desires, and for herself and the unwitting souls who had crossed his path this night.

Soon, he was one whole creature; no longer two polarising equal halves of the same man, and with only the pinheaded being left in the human officer's wake. His pinned visage contorted and winced, and two distinct voices - both of which at first bellowed over the other - distorted, then eventually fused, becoming one whole voice.

Then the storm abated. Everything was calm. The Cenobite had his eyes closed firmly shut, his arms crossed against his chest, his hands clenched into tight fists. He inhaled a sudden intake of breath, and then his onyx eyes snapped open...and they were trained firmly on her. He was still, tranquil, and quiet, which did nothing to calm Joey's concerns.

The reporter was still laid out across the dust-coated wooden flooring of Elliot's Quonset Hut, whimpering softly, arms curled protectively around her body and legs tucked beneath her as the leather-clad being she had dubbed Pinhead was left standing alone opposite her, his coal eyes watching her intently.

She awaited the Hell that would be undoubtedly unleashed now that the blue-eyed, heroic World War One veteran had sacrificed himself to bring an end to his darker side's quest to explore a whole manner of flesh unfettered and free of the laws of the Lament and his own conscience.

Pinhead - she knew of no other name to refer to him as, and he was so undeserving of being called Elliot - inched closer to Joey, face somewhat solemn but no words left his ashen lips. His floor-length cassock brushed the wood beneath his feet with each step he took, and Joey's tight hold on the Lament Configuration in her sweaty grasp began to tighten.

She was trapped in this realm, with this sadistic being, unable to escape his inevitable and terrible machinations. She winced the closer he got, preparing herself for the assault that would undoubtedly follow.

She scrunched her eyes shut as he came within touching distance...but the pain she expected did not proceed him. Instead, she prised open her eyes and beheld the same creature wearing a disparate mask.

A wan smile tugged the corners of his mouth, one of benevolence, and - to her astonishment - he slowly and grandly offered his hand to the intrepid reporter. It took a moment or two, with her gazing wearily yet keenly into his eyes to try and read him, but gradually and reluctantly she accepted with her own clammy and trembling hand, which was still wet with blood. He helped her to her feet with one arm in a fraction of a second, her breath catching in her throat through marvelling at just how strong he seemed to be.

They stood toe to toe, neither speaking a word as his admittedly beautiful liquid black eyes lingered on her questioning sea-blue orbs, his unexpectedly lukewarm and calloused hand still holding hers, the leather enshrouding his thumb and pinky finger surprisingly comforting and soft.

Finally, his lips parted and he took a breath, and the words she heard the Cenobite speak was not what she had quite expected at all.

"Your father would be proud of you."

Her tear-ridden eyes probed his, searching for any other sign of Elliot in his inscrutable dark-eyed gaze. As if to calm her fears, a shimmer of baby blue flickered across his coal orbs for a second, then faded back to the usual onyx. She smiled lightly, understanding that both light and dark were one and the same now. A whole. She could detect a hint of Elliot beneath that unearthly facade, and for that she could breathe a sigh of relief.

They had tamed the beast, so it seemed.

To further validate this, the pin-headed creature's face appeared much softer and stoic than before. Traces of the earlier anger and feral antagonism had long left his gridded features. He stood tall, composed and proud, his shoulders square and posture soldier-stiff. He looked every inch an elegant, regal gentleman.

Then, he did something she certainly would not expect a creature such as him to do; his hand, still enveloped within hers, raised the heel of her hand leisurely and brought it to his icy lips, whilst those fantastic deep pools of darkness in his articulately decorated skull watched her attentively.

Against her will, she found herself blushing at the gesture. Something that didn't go unnoticed by him. He chuckled a deep rich rumble within his chest, which did nothing to help the crimson consuming her delightful face. Soon, he released Joey's hand, and folded his arms behind his back, straightening his posture more so than before. He took one look at the lacquered box in her hands and closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, as if in concentration.

When he opened his eyes, they were on Joey's. He smiled once more, a bright, handsome smile like Elliot's. Then he spoke in that baritone, that authoritative rich voice which both titillated and intimidated her all in one,

"Farewell, Miss Summerskill."

And in a crackle of blue light which blinded Joey for a brief moment, he was gone, and she was now knelt on the uneven, disturbed earth of the construction site, alone, and staring at the Lament Configuration settled inches in front of her.

The End