oceanview || ❝ hold hands with my demons and creatures of night. ❞

[outlierdirector]

OCEANVIEW I

blinded by reflections.

Is there anybody out there?
Someone who can hear me and drink from the light
To see things from the same side
Is there anybody out there? CODE BY TESSISAMESS

Comments

🔻— it's happened again.

[outlierdirector]

🔦 meetings.

[outlierdirector]

[ « I hope you're right about this. »

Jesse Faden glances out the window of the escort car before opening the door and stepping out. Maybe people would expect a director of a federal agency to look more formal, but that's never really been her style. At least, not when she can get away with it. A field response? She could get away with just her tactical gear.

« Blending in and making yourself not look out of the ordinary. Funny, I know. »

She nods to a similar dressed down agent who exits the other side of the car. Then, she opens the door and makes her way slowly down the wooden hallway.

« A cabin? Okay. It wouldn't be my first guess for an interrogation. »

Bright Falls, Washington. It had been on the Bureau's notice since the '70s. The first time the AWE went active. Documents she found said that it went active again in 2010--the same time the famous author went missing. The news had been all over the place that the Alan Wake had disappeared during a holiday with his wife. No one could locate him in local law enforcement, the FBI, and not even the Bureau. Not at first anyways.

One typewritten page slipped under a doorway of the Oceanview Motel answered that question. Somehow, Wake got himself into another dimension. The Hotline calls Jesse received a few years later only solidified that--and, well, seeing him beyond the door that was cracked open in the Motel.

« Not that he ever really seemed to notice I saw him. Did he really mean to contact me over the Hotline? Or, did we just pick it up because he was writing about Hartman? » ]

Did you write these pages, Mr. Wake?

[ « And there goes the poster on her wall. »

Jesse holds a hand up to the agent beside her to wait and walks the few more paces to stop near the FBI agent in the hallway. Taller, blonde, coffee in hand. Her head tilts. Right, the FBI was investigating their missing ex-agent... and somehow came across Alan Wake? Sure. She's heard of weirder things. ]

Agent Casey, right?

[ The man turns to look at her, glances her once over, and seems to immediately know who she is. Jesse gives him a smile--although it probably doesn't look as nice as she means it to come off. ]

Look, I don't mean to interfere with your investigation into... why you're really here. But, this? [ A nod into the room Casey stands beside. ] That falls under my area.

And I'm guessing you're going to take our star witness? Of course. Your agency is always overreaching.

Look, Casey. I'd rather work with you than against you. [ « As I'm pretty sure I'd win anyways. » ] We look over the part that falls under our jurisdiction, and you continue your investigation for your missing man. I... need I remind you that you and your partner crossed into territory that was off limits by the FBC? Yeah, we know.

[ Casey swears under his breath and shakes his head. He peeks beyond the door and calls to his partner and motions her over. Saga Anderson steps out and Jesse tries once more to give a welcoming smile. She's... not the best people person, but, she has definitely been trying since she became the Director. ]

All I want to do is talk to him. Alone, preferably. I'm sure you understand, Agent Anderson. [ Jesse half turns and nods to the agent that accompanied her. ] Steve didn't handle the flight out here too well. Maybe you can get him some coffee?

[ Saga glances between the two before nodding in understanding. She all but drags Casey with her, sending one more glance to the bearded man in the flannel on her way.

Jesse takes a deep breath before stepping into the room with the sole occupant. Black and white flannel, longer hair, beard. Head in his hands and she's not entirely sure he's actually noticed she's walked in. Jesse quietly takes a seat across from him, folding her hands, and leaning against the tabletop. Should she announce herself? Should she wait for him to notice? Would he even recognize her as "Faden"... did he even know what she looked like?

« One thing is for sure... he really needs a shower. And maybe to sleep for a week. Maybe two. Let's try talking to him. I'm not even sure he'll notice you're here. » ]

Mr. Wake?

[crazyisinevitable]

[ Outwardly, Alan appears still... calm, unmoving. But inside, he is anything but calm. His mind is racing with a cacophony of thoughts crashing into each other with no sense of order or reason whatsoever. Interspersed with his thoughts are words, lines that he could have written. Did he write them? Did he write this?

...Wake needed a hero, but there were no heroes left. It was just him and the darkness that seemed to stretch on for miles. In the darkness lurked things that could not be seen, and things that Wake did not wish to see.

What was happening? Time seemed to be moving in odd ways, odder than Alan could remember, and somehow, he knew that something was happening. How did he get here? Where exactly is here? He could hear voices, but they sounded muffled. Who did they belong to? Did he write about them? What is happening?

Between all the muffled words, certain words sound clearer than others: Coffee. Investigation. Star witness. Agency. FBC.

What is happening? Alan registers the sound of footsteps leaving the room, or maybe coming into the room. He can't tell. He can't see. Maybe he doesn't want to see. His head remains in his hands, mind still racing at what feels like a million miles per second.

Did I write about this? I don't remember.

Someone else is in the room with him, sitting across from him, but he doesn't want to look. Doesn't want to know. Knowing causes trouble. It makes things happen, things that shouldn't happen.

Mr. Wake?

His hands lower away from his face by just a fraction, but he still doesn't look at whoever it is that is sitting there with him. Instead, his mouth opens slightly and a slow flow of words spills out. ]

Revise. Rewrite. Write again. Tear it apart. Wake needed to escape. He couldn't escape.

[ He pauses and frowns, and then he continues: ]

There's no escape. There's never an escape. There's- [ He cuts himself off midsentence and his fingers curl, gripping at his too-long hair as he goes silent again. ]

[outlierdirector]

[ Jesse isn't sure what she was expecting, but it's certainly not the reaction she gets. She stares at him, hands folded on the table, suddenly reminded by their first "encounter" three years ago.

« Did he...is he repeating what he said over the Hotline to me? I mean, it's not exactly word for word, but it's eerily similar. Casey and Anderson made it seem like he was, well, not ...whatever this is. »

She feels Polaris shift slightly. Hm. ]

Mr. Wake. [ Jesse leans forward slightly, raising her voice, trying to snap him out of--whatever it is. A trance? In his own head? ] Do you know where you are now?

[ She presumes not, but, they need a baseline. ]

Mr. Wake!

[ Polaris shifts again and Jesse frowns.

« Are you SURE? We don't--he may not even realize you're trying to help. It's not like the Hiss. You may not be able to do anything!

...

Alright. If you're sure. »

Jesse does her best to hide Polaris. She can't hide the fact that she amplifies the resonance of the being, but, she doesn't really enjoy the idea of Bring Your Resonance Best Friend To Show and Tell Day. Polaris insists in her own way though. It can't work like cleansing and grounding a control point in the Oldest House.

Can it?

Jesse turns her hands so they are palm down on the table. A few moments pass as she judges where Wake is, mentally anyways, before she takes a deep breath. In the blink of an eye, she slams her hands on the table. The motion itself is jarring, but she funnels that frequency Polaris inhabits into the table itself. It seems to vibrate the table for that brief moment, sending the resonance through anything the table touches--including Wake.

Polaris doesn't invade like the Hiss, "she" doesn't even take host or residence. All "she" does is momentarily block anything that isn't the table, the vibration, and Jesse's voice: ]

ALAN!

[ Then, Polaris dissipates. "She" leaves as fast as she came for Wake's perspective. But, if he's attentive to details, he might just realize all Polaris has done is moved to a background presence in the room. A presence that seems to imitate from Jesse Faden herself. ]

[crazyisinevitable]

[ It seems that the person that is Alan Wake is temporarily obstructed by something. The effects of the Dark Place is the most likely answer, of course. Wake is still in there; it's just a matter of peeling away the layers of hours spent in the dark, trying to write and rewrite ways to break free. Maybe the effects of those hours will never truly be gone, but Alan is still in there trying to claw his way back to the surface.

... It just might not be apparent to anyone watching. ]

...was stretched. Stretched as anyone when seen from out of time. Like a worm through time.

[ Mr. Wake. Mr. Wake! The words echo in his head before fading into a dull buzz. Apparently he has not yet realized where he is. ]

Have I been here before? Gone down this path before? Cut through the re-

[ He doesn't finish that sentence. He doesn't even fully grasp just what Polaris and Jesse are doing, only that something seems to surge through the table first, and then through him, since he is sitting near it.

ALAN! Jesse's voice bursts through his churning thoughts, and a strangled-sounding gasp bursts from him next. Could it be that easy? Could Polaris' resonance have driven away the swirling cobwebs of the Dark Place just like that?

Alan still isn't sure. This could still be a trick, just as it could be something that he wrote in yet another desperate attempt to escape the Dark Place. Maybe he's not even in this room at all. He doesn't have words on a page that he can believe. There isn't a typewriter in this room.

Maybe that means something and maybe it doesn't. Orange peels mean something to some people.

He doesn't speak, not yet, but his hands drop away from his face, and he sits up straight for the first time since Anderson left and Jesse entered. ]

꩜ — and the darkness settles in.

[outlierdirector]

[crazyisinevitable]

[ Stop writing, Wake. The words are emblazoned on signs he passes, and sometimes when he stops to look at them, they shift into other phrases: don't sleep again.

Something is trying to get him to stop. Something wants him to give up the effort to write the right thing and finally make it out of the Dark Place. But don't sleep? He doesn't, or at least, he doesn't remember sleeping. There is so much he doesn't understand about the Dark Place or the presence that inhabits it, but there is one thing he's sure of: sleeping is what lets the presence in more. A sleeping mind is vulnerable.

Sometimes he's in another place, walking through streets that he wishes were deserted. Sometimes he's in front of the typewriter, writing and writing and trying to get the ideas from his head onto the page.

But sometimes, he's not in what looks like a dystopian nightmare. Sometimes, he's in the place he knows as Bright Falls. Sometimes he's locked inside a cabin. Sometimes he's walking alone down a path covered in leaves. The cabin is important. Or maybe it's the setting of Bright Falls itself.

It's happening again...

He's written about this before; maybe once, twice, ten times... as many as it takes to get it right. How many times has he gotten it wrong? He thinks it's more times than he's gotten it right. Sometimes it ends the same way: a burst of maniacal laughter, people dead on the ground, him jolting back into awareness in the room with the typewriter...

I've got to fix this. I've got to make it work. What is the key here?

He looks up from the page he's presently working on, and his eyes go wide with surprise. The door is opening. How? What? He shuts his eyes for a second and opens them again. No, the door is still opening, and the barrel of a gun slips in through the gap in the door. Then someone enters the room. The hammer is nocked. The barrel is pointed at him. ]

NO!

[ When Alan opens his eyes once more, he's back at the desk, hands resting on the typewriter keys. The door is closed. There's no gun sliding through the gap between door and frame. He sighs, knowing he shouldn't feel relieved, as there is no concept of relief in this place. There's the illusion of it, but illusions can be shattered. His certainly have been. There's no illusion of safety or mastery or thinking he can ever be in control.

He's just a man, and the forces at work here have all the power while he has very little.

But if writing is all he knows, maybe he can do a little writing to make something happen. He did it once, and it led to messages being received... can he do that again?

He takes a blank piece of paper and puts it into the typewriter. ]

Wake had nothing left to lose. Well, he had everything to lose: what remained of his sanity, for one thing. But he still needed a hero. He'd tried time and time again to escape on his own, but maybe the key to everything was other people. Maybe one specific person. But could Wake reach that person? He just needed to make one phone call.

Would it work, or would the rules of this place conspire against him again to stop him in his tracks?

... He had nothing left to lose. But somewhere, somehow, a phone was ringing.

☎️ ground control to major tom.

[outlierdirector]

[ Briing. Briiing. Briiing.

A phone rings. Piercing through the dark newspaper filled streets, graffiti walls, and neon signs.

Two phone booth stand side-by-side. Except only one is illuminated. The one on the right, while before, the one on the left had been lit up.

The Dark Place shifted once again.

Briing. Briiing. Briiing.

The television screens in the display flick on. This time, instead of a reflection of the writer, another man stands there in what could be described as a Saturday morning kids program. A classroom, filled with beakers and other scientific instruments. A man slides into screen with a wide smile and a cup in his hands. One, where if someone stopped to look, may have a familiar logo on it. ]

『 Dream logic. It makes sense, doesn't it? Except when it doesn't. It would make perfect sense to walk on a cloud and touch the moon in a dream! Ha! Walking on sunshine--ha... no? Right. Hmhm, well. Anyways. Most scientists would tell you dream logic isn't real, but what if you found yourself in a world that operated ONLY on dream logic? Yeah, nuts, isn't it? .... Or is it? 』

[ The screen changes and said scientist is now standing on--well, a cloud. ]

『 You see, each reality--each dimensional plane--operates on its own set of rules. Reality, well, Newton's Law! What about a reality where there is only resonances? Or, one with a series of hotels and motels that can only make sense when you are dreaming? Better yet, a spooky place-- 』 [ the man wiggles his fingers, ] 『 --where creativity reigns supreme? Well, it's all about finding out how the rules of that dimension work... 』

[ Briing. Briiing. Briiing.

The man's tv show is drowned out as the volume ringing increases. Louder, louder, louder. Until it overpowers even the drizzle of rain and grumbling of shifting shadows. Finally, when the phone is answered... a woman's voice comes over the handheld: ]

Alan? Are you there? Alan Wake?

[crazyisinevitable]

[ Loops. All he's done is write loops and more loops, with a side of loops, and honestly, he's sick of it. Except he has no one but himself to blame for it, because try as he might, he just can't find the right ending. He's lost track of just how many times he's died, or someone else has died, or how many times the Dark Presence just seems to laugh at him.

Hell, he's resorted to wandering around in what feels like circles just looking for that one thing, that one idea that might inspire him to write what he needs. But he would be lying if he said all of his wanderings were productive. Sometimes his thought process just devolves into endless refrains of what the hell? or that's ridiculous, what the hell are you doing, Wake? as ideas form and get discarded more than anything else.

It's always dark in the Dark Place, but it's not always raining. It just happens to be raining now, and Alan's soaked. But what does it matter? Alan knows better than to ever let his thoughts wander, as even the slightest stray thought can be turned into a very big, very frightening nightmare. But strange things happen even if Alan's thoughts don't bring them to life. The televion screens, for instance. Well, at least I'm not looking at my own eye staring back at me. That doesn't count as a thought he shouldn't have, because it's already happened more than once.

He's seen the man on the TV before, but the topic he's waxing on about is different. Alan almost pauses long enough to listen for a little while, but his attention is caught by the payphones. ]

That's strange. [ Sometimes one phone booth is lit up, and sometimes the other one is. It's never both at the same time. Now, the booth that's lit up is the one on the right. And more importantly, it's ringing. Soon enough, it's almost all Alan can hear. It even manages to drown out out the rain and the strange little sounds in the dark that could (can?) make a man mad.

He's done this before: answered the ringing phone. But this time, it's not who he expected. It's not even anyone he recognizes. ]

Who is this? What do you want? [ He tries to not sound too hostile; at least it's not Scratch calling. That's a voice he never likes hearing. ]

[outlierdirector]

Oh my god. Alan. It's really you, isn't it? [ The voice fades and crackles, like the signal isn't strong despite being on a payphone. It becomes static just for a moment before the voice comes back slightly stronger. ] You don't know how long I've been trying to reach you. Are you alri-- [ the call fades into static once more for a few seconds, ]--No, no, no. Come ON. Alan. You've got to stay with me.

[ The lights flicker on the phone booth. Something is rumbling and not happy about something reaching into it's area. Reaching to it's play thing. Maybe Alan can sense that.

The female voice can sense something isn't right. ] Alan, where are you? What can you see? Tell me!

[crazyisinevitable]

[ Oh my god. Alan. It's really you, isn't it? Except static obscures every other word, and that doesn't make it any easier to try and place the voice. He very nearly hangs up the phone again, except... it's been so long since he talked to anyone that's real and not just a figment of his imagination or a voice in his head. But then again, who's to say that whoever's trying to call him isn't something else conjured up by his mind or by the Dark Presence? ] Hello? Can you hear me?

[ He would have sounded desperate at one point, but at least the sound of desperation in response to a call like this has been replaced by resignation. ] I can't hear you, I'm just getting static.

[ And then there's an almighty rumble that seems to echo in his mind as well, and Alan almost loses his footing, nearly getting knocked over by whatever that was. He curses loudly before speaking into the phone again: ] Well, you've done it now. You poked the bear. [ And this particular bear will poke back, and then some. The voice asks another question, but it comes across as mostly static, and all Alan hears is the word tell. ]

Who the hell is this? [ He's only getting bits and pieces of the female voice's questions, and honestly, he's getting really tired of receiving calls from voices he doesn't know. ]

[outlierdirector]

( continued from here )

[ She pauses at his suggestion. Really? Carry her? It takes a moment before her arm lowers and her gaze slowly moves back to him. Maybe timid, maybe a bit shy at the notion. He'd carry her? She hopes it isn't because he's trying to make up for how much energy she's put out in trying to bring him to the Motel. The place they were supposed to figure out this story together.

Now it's more like they're trying to figure each other out. More--better--than they had initially. They already know the attraction is there between them. Passion. Hunger to have someone who understands them. They know each other, but now, they know one another a little deeper. Or, at least, Alan knows the most about her now. The dark hidden parts she's afraid to show anyone. He accepted it with open arms... so why would showing her apartment be any weirder?

Jesse blinks once before lowering herself back down onto him. Wordlessly, her legs pin around his waist and she gives a nod. Brief, almost noticeable. She'll help him however needed to get up. Then, both arms wrap around his shoulders again. A nervous smile is given to him, if only because it's something she's not used to.

« He has a way of bringing things out that I never thought I had in me. It almost sounds like something out of a romance novel. Which isn't his genre of choice. » ]

Just... don't be surprised if you're disappointed. Okay? There's not much.

[ Jesse reaches behind her and turns the door of the motel door. It should, by logic, open into one that leads to a motel room. Instead it leads to a connected living space. Large windows with the sunset leaking in. A small dining area, entertainment area, combined kitchen. A few doors. One which leads to the master bedroom--and one that is closed. Bathroom with a laundry room to the side.

Plants hanging from the ceiling. Pictures of different states.

She glances over her shoulder. Then, gestures with the arm she used to open the door. ]

Ta-dah... I guess?

[crazyisinevitable]

[ It might seem silly, like a romantic gesture that's out of place in a place that's anything but romantic. There's nothing at all romantic about the Dark Place. Alan remembers reading gothic novels at one point, and they all had a kind of dark, grim romantic angle to them. There's nothing like that here. The darkness holds mysteries, but the mysteries will tear the unsuspecting apart. It's not at all like a gothic novel. It's real. Terrifyingly so.

But even with that, even with all that he's lost to the Dark Place, Alan still retains something of the man who has a romantic streak at heart. Maybe some of that is showing now with his offer to carry Jesse.

He waits nervously, feeling as though he's forgotten how to breathe while he waits for her to answer either way. Why does she make me so nervous sometimes?

But then she lowers herself back down, and he takes that as her answer. He slides one arm around her back, and the other beneath her legs, and while he's hardly an expert at this, he waits until she's wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and when he's sure that she's secure, he manages to lift her while not losing his balance. I'd say that counts as an accomplishment. ]

Why would I be disappointed? It's your apartment. Your place. [ One of the best ways to really get to know someone is to see where they live. Or something like that. I just want to see where she lives. It'll be easier to imagine myself coming home to her instead of coming back to the Dark Place every time.

When she turns the door and it opens, Alan's breath catches with something like anticipation. Already his mind is off and running, cataloguing what he sees, memorizing it, so that when they finally have to part, he'll still have these memories. And hopefully they won't be washed away by the waves. ]

If this is what you call "not much", I'd hate to see what something really not much looks like.

[ Alan might have had the apartment he lived in with Alice, but that doesn't mean he finds Jesse's apartment any less impressive. In fact, he prefers hers, if he's being honest. Maybe it's the fact that there's a lot of windows and open spaces. Or maybe it's just the fact that it feels like her. Either way, he's decided that he likes it.

He smiles at her when she gestures at the room, and his hold on her tightens as his smile widens. ]

Thanks for letting me see it.

▼ — fifty first.

[outlierdirector]

🔦 meetings.

[outlierdirector]

[ « Please let me help. Just, let me help. Please. Let me help. PLEASE. I don't... I don't want to lose her again. I can help--we can help. Please. Just let me-- »

Jesse Faden glances out the window of the escort car before opening the door and stepping out. Maybe people would expect a director of a federal agency to look more formal, but that's never really been her style. At least, not when she can get away with it. A field response? She could get away with just her tactical gear.

Her eyebrows knit.

Hasn't she done this...?

Jesse looks out the window, but then slumps against the door. The side of her head rests against the glass of the escort door window.

« We've been here before. The three of us. This dirt road, the sun starting to set. It's September. The same trees are turning colors. We... we've done this before. Havent we? »

Polaris shifts. Yes.

« How many times? It's been more than once, hasn't it? The road leads up to a cabin whrre Agent Saga Anderson and Agent Alex Casey are. They found someone at the threshold. They broke protocol with the FBC, even if they're FBI. That's why I came here. It's the signal for the AWE we caught in lockdown in 2019. The one from Cauldron Lake, in Bright Falls, Washington. »

Alan Wake. ]

Ma'am? Director...? Hey, Earth to Faden!

[ She snaps from her thoughts with Polaris to hear Steve shouting at her. Jesse's attention whirls to her side, noticing that he is standing outside the vehicle on the driver's side. Aviators down. He motions forward with his thumb ahead.

It's the cabin, the same cabin. ]

We're here. Faden. Are you alright?

Y-yeah. I'm fine. Just... tired.

Well, you've been going almost nonstop since you became Director. Not surprising. Want me to take over this and you hang out in the car?

N-no, it's fine. Thanks, Steve. It won't take long anyways.

[ « Because it never does. »

Jesse slides out of the car and starts heading in after Steve. He pulls the aviators above his head, holds the door open, and keeps a keen eye on the Director. He's never seen her this tired before... this, she almost looks resigned to the meeting before it's even happened. Maybe she got a tip off about Casey and Anderson?

« Why do I have to remember I've relived this? How is this going to help? If we can't do anything until the morning any differently... » ]

Did you write these pages, Mr. Wake?

Agent Casey, right?

[ Steve calls to the coffee inhaling agent this time. Jesse squares her shoulders in an attempt to make herself look proper as a Director when she feels anything but at the moment. She hasn't felt this way since she first found the Oldest House.

Alone.

No one else knows they're looping. It's just her and Polaris. ]

What the fuck are you doing here? I thought this was strictly FBI business! [ Casey snaps at them and strides down the hall to meet them. He's more volatile this time. ] Don't tell me that son of a bitch Estevez called you in on this! This is OUR case!

[ « Estevez? Wasnt it Chavez? » ]

I'm not here to take your damn case away, Casey. I'm here because you trespassed on Buearu property without gaining permission. You crossed directly into our active monitoring without a clue what you're doing! Do whatever you need to solve your murder cases. I don't care. All I'm here for is an interview with the man you and Anderson--

Hey, hey! Calm down!

[ Jesse and Casey both turn their heads to see Saga approaching after gently closing the door behind her. She looks at them, then gives a scolding look to Casey that just screams that mother is disappointed. ]

I'll take the heat for trespassing, Director. It was my idea. So, can we calm down? The man inside is already on edge and unable to really gain his bearings. Shouting about what agency does what is just going to agitate him further. [ Saga looks at Casey and gives another disappointed look. ] Let her conduct her interview and let's get you a refill, okay? As well as you, mister...?

Steve Sevestapol. Ranger, nice to meet you, Agent Anderson. Casey.

[ The two practically drag Casey away and Jesse is left standing in the hallway. She feels Polaris shifting, nudging, directing her where to go. A familiar jolt goes through her as her friend tries to get her to move.

« I don't want to do this again. »

Polaris insists.

« I DON'T want to do this again. »

Polaris insists.

« I can't--he won't let me help! Please. I don't want to have this conversation again. Not when it's going to be the same again. And again. And again. »

Polaris swirls once more and Jesse knows she's right. They can't do anything. It's how the story goes.

She opens the door and steps inside the room.

Black and white flannel, longer hair, beard. Head in his hands and she's knows he hasn't noticed she's walked in. Jesse quietly takes a seat across from him, folding her hands, and leaning against the tabletop. She takes the manuscript page and looks it over. Polaris tells her it's the same. How the FBI agents found him didn't change.

« I don't want to do this again. I don't want to hear him not say my name... and just be the Director... no first names this time. Just, blunt. Business. Professional. » ]

Mr. Wake?

[crazyisinevitable]

[ Where am I? How did I get here? This isn't right.

Alan Wake is in a stupor, sitting in a chair with his head in his hands as he desperately tries to make sense of what's happening. I'm trying to remember it! The words slipped out in response to a question, a desperate response from a desperate man.

The FBI agents Anderson and Casey found him lying on the shore; not in the water, but far enough on land to not even get a drop of water on his clothes. In his hand was a half-dried piece of paper: a page from a typewritten manuscript. Miraculously, the ink hadn't run, but the page was very clearly damp. When they hoisted him to his feet, Casey spotted the wrinkled page in his hand and took it from him, deciding it was potential evidence and the man himself a suspect.

What happened on the way from the shore to the cabin solidified it for Casey that the man was more than likely a nutjob. A flock of crows flew by them, and neither Saga nor Casey batted an eye. The man, however, reacted, and reacted strongly. He tensed in their hold and a cold sweat broke out on his skin. Casey growled in annoyance as he and his partner pulled the man along, because he suddenly seemed to forget how to walk.

Finally, they reached their destination. But the interview (not an interrogation) did not go as planned. For whatever reason, the man they recovered from the shore seemed to just collapse in on himself when asked pointed questions. Casey wondered if it was guilt that was doing that to him, or if he was just off his rocker. It could even be both.

Finally, after rounds of questions that sometimes get an answer that's halfway coherent, Saga decides to give the man a break. It's clear enough to her that he's at the end of his tether. Whatever the hell it is that he's been through, badgering him isn't going to get them answers. That's never been her approach, but she isn't afraid to put on a little pointed pressure when needed. With him, however, she kept to businesslike directness.

Eventually, Alan finds himself alone in the room in the cabin. He can hear voices of varying states of loudness just outside the door, but he's not paying attention to the words. His fingers tighten around his head and his shoulders hunch over a few inches more.

Mr. Wake? ]

...the style, then: lose the fat. Make it clear. [ Alan's voice is hushed, but the words are clear enough if anyone's listening. It's not an answer. It's not anything unless there's knowledge of the meaning. But Alan isn't expecting an answer. He isn't even expecting to be heard. ] Only the brutal truth.

[outlierdirector]

[ « It's the Hotline message again. Or at least, one of them. He's saying it again. Just like last time... or, the time before. Dose it matter? » ]

Mr. Wake. [ Jesse raises her voice just a notch to talk over him. Then, she pauses for a moment. ] Mr. Wake.

[ « No, your resonance didn't work before. He was still like this. He's always going to be like this isn't he? I can't DO anything about it! »

She frowns.

Her eyes drop to the other manuscripts on the table. One looks as if it was half-dried... did they find it in the water? Polaris nudges to it, so Jesse quietly and gently reaches forward for it and pulls it over. She takes a moment to uncrinkle the paper to her best ability before taking a moment to read it. ]

▼ — sixty four.

[outlierdirector]

🔦 meetings.

[outlierdirector]

[ « How many times around has it been...? You don't even know, do you? »

Jesse Faden glances out the window of the Oh Deer Diner before closing her eyes and leaning her chin into her hand. Maybe people would expect a director of a federal agency to look more formal, but that's never really been her style. At least, not when she can get away with it. Something more comfortable, more fitting with the territory. Flannel and jeans. She really didn't feel like putting her hair up this morning.

« Sometimes, I wonder if it really has been a loop like you say. Then, certain things happen, and I can't shake that feeling. Even if you didn't insist... part of me just knows. Part of me knows I've forgotten things. »

She and her right hand ranger, Steve Sevastopol sits across from her. He's just as tired as well. Older than her, ex-pilot. The military discharged him after wild claims of UFO caused his co-pilot to die. He found a home in the FBC, and was the first to volunteer when she needed help within the deeper parts of clearing out the Oldest House. He was the one that helped her with Hartman. He knew what the Darkness was like, and she couldn't think of anyone else she'd have at her side.

They were supposed to meet with the FBI agents working a case here: Saga Anderson and Alex Casey. At the last minute, Polaris guided her to stop the car. Turn around, go back to the rented rooms in the hotel in Bright Falls. She relayed the information to Steve and he followed the directions even if he was a bit confused as to why. ]

You ready to go and see Estevez this morning, Faden?

Yeah. Maybe a little later. It might be a good idea to get more of a feel of the town... what could be where. Documents we have were never really detailed on the town itself. [ She gives a lazy half-shrug. Neither slept well the night before and slept with the lights on. Just in case. ] It gives her time to put everything together that I asked for.

You're not going to make me guess, are you?

As much information about the town and the events that have gone here. Cauldron Lake. The Lodge. Missing persons cases. [ Jesse tilts her head side to side to try and release some of the tension. ] Sheriff Breaker will be a good man to visit too. He might be willing to help us out as well.

[ Steve leans forward a little, aviators clipped onto his shirt. ] And he's not going to get suspicious with us and the FBI investigating?

He might. We'll see what we can tell him.

[ The bell to the diner rings as the doors open: "Welcome to the Oh Deer Diner!" the elderly waitress named Daisy greets the new arrivals. "There's a booth up in the back, feel free to take one. I'll be with you dears in just a moment!" ]

Deers. Cute. [ A gruff sounding male replies with a roll of his eyes. ] Let's take our seats before she gets anymore clever ideas.

[ Jesse feels a tug from Polaris. She doesn't much care who entered in the diner, especially with the pun this early in the morning. The local festival of Deerfest is the next day and the town is buzzing with excitement. It was the time the last AWE here in Bright Falls happened. The week right into Deerfest. Jesse doesn't know much about it, and she doesn't really intend to find out more at the moment.

« I'm just... tired. »

Steve glances at the trio of people who walked in. It's not hard to pin out Agent Casey, which means the other is Saga Anderson, and the rough-around-the-edges male must be someone related to their case. He takes a drink of coffee before leaning forward to talk to Jesse in a lowered voice. ] Our friends just walked in.

All the more reason to leave as soon as we're finished. [ Jesse cracks an eye open to look at the ranger. ] Did they notice?

Doesn't look like it. Probably because you look too much like a local. [ He smirks and gives a wink and leans back in the booth. ] Too bad this isn't a holiday.

[ « It's good if I look like a local. It means I won't stick out. Just like before when I was on the run. »

Daisy heads to the back to meet with the trio, and a younger waitress by the name of Melody comes over to see to Jesse and Steve. They give their order quietly, and go back to looking out the window at the preparations for the festival. ]

[crazyisinevitable]

[ It's another turn, yet another time going around and around, and although Alan doesn't know it, he's tired of it. He's the writer pulling the strings when and where he can, but he can't end it yet. The right ending hasn't come.

But for the moment, as far as people are concerned, he's just another person who's come to Bright Falls for Deerfest. Although when he walked in with Casey and Saga, a few of the other patrons stared for a minute or two, because he looks more than a little rough. The agents have told him he's not in custody or apprehended, in the strictest sense of the words, but they do need to keep an eye on him and continue to question him about his involvement in their case.

It doesn't appear to matter to him very much, as his attention seems to wander and he doesn't speak unless asked questions. He takes a seat with Saga and Anderson, wondering about his bad luck; coming out of the Dark Place and into an active investigation was not something he could have anticipated even if he had written about it. Did he write about it? He can't remember.

Saga exchanges pleasantries with Daisy the waitress, and then she turns her attention to Alan. ] You should order something. You look like you could use it. [ Casey rolls his eyes and scoffs quietly, earning him a look from Saga. In Saga's mind, Alan does look like he needs something, and maybe food won't even help, but it can't do any harm either. He has a look of a man who has seen too much and been through more than anyone could know, and that makes him two things: a person of interest in their case, but also a person- a human being who should still be treated like one. Even if evidence comes to light of wrongdoing, that doesn't change that, in Saga's opinion.

At Saga's suggestion, Alan looks down at one of the menus dropped off by the waitress. The thought of consuming food feels foreign to him, even though he knows that logically, it is something that people do.

Saga being an investigator doesn't miss very much, and she certainly doesn't miss the way Alan's staring at his menu. ] I know, there's a lot of choices, huh? But it's on me, so just pick whatever looks good.

[ He glances up and nods, but his mind is spinning with more than what he should choose to eat. This is the Oh Deer Diner, and the waitress called them dears... and of course, Casey grumped about it. It means something. Deer... Oh Deer... Deerfest?

He hasn't asked what the date is, because it hadn't occurred to him to do so, but even with how in his own head he is, he can still see the way the trees look and feel the chill in the air. It feels like the right kind of time for Deerfest, and if he had a clearer view of outside the diner, he'd look for a large deer float. And hopefully it would only have one head. But in his mind, he files it away that it's roughly the right time for the event and the implications of it, at least for him. ]

Mr. Wake? [ Saga's looking at him, and Casey's leaning back with his arms crossed and wearing a grumpy expression.

Alan startles from his momentary trip into his own thoughts and he mumbles an apology. He's about to say something else, but his focus is caught by something strange before he can. Of course, he tries to cover it up, but again, he's in the company of two investigators, and he's certain they won't just ignore it if he gets up out of the blue. ] Hey, I, uh- I need to use the facilities, if you know what I mean. Do I need an escort for that too?

[ He doesn't need to use the bathroom, but it's the best cover he could come up with on the fly. ]

[outlierdirector]

[ While the diner is abuzz with chatter and excitement for tomorrow's festival, the booth belonging to the FBC agents remains quiet. Steve keeps a track mentally of the amount of people crossing by while Jesse allows her eyes to drift shut, chin back in the palm of her hand. There will be plenty of talking in a few hours, so a moment of quiet isn't going to hurt them at all.

She feels Polaris attempt to pull her attention somewhere else in the diner, but she doesn't want to. She can't explain why, but she'd rather be as if she is just a tires local and ignoring the world around her. Invisible. That's how they are supposed to operate. People aren't supposed to notice they're special government agents. That, and something deep inside her refuses any possibility of ... whatever it is.

Her eyes remain closed, chin in her hand, cheek resting against her fingers. Her back is fairly much pointed towards the rest of the diner.

Steve, however, is ex-miltiary. Anything that's going to set him on alert does. Which is why he looks up from the window when he feels someone approach them. His eyebrows raise, seeing its the man that walked in with the FBI agents. Oh, boy. ]

Is there something we can help you with?

▼ — one.

[outlierdirector]

🔦 meetings.

[outlierdirector]

[ « Bright Falls, Washington. It's be really pretty if it wasn't for the lake that is a doorway to a spooky nightmare dimension. And, Deerfest. Cute, in a way. Sort of like October fest...? Maybe a bit more kid friendly. And it's been going for 81 years? That's an insane tradition. »

Director Jesse Faden looks up at the ceiling as she moves down the small flight of stairs to the second floor. The Federal Bureau of Control's base of operations isn't that big here in Bright Falls. Their monitoring site may actually be bigger. She's never been to this site, which is another reason she has made the personal trip with her right hand ranger captain--who is working with Agent Kiran Estevez to get a proper read on the situation. Then, he'll be the one talking to Federal Agent Saga Anderson.

« It's a little exciting, isn't it? If he really is who they are saying he is. Not that I'm a rabid fan of his work or anything. But, he found a way to contact us through another dimension. Not just anyone can do that. They have to be like me or something else to get through on the Hotline. »

She turns down the hall and makes her way to a set of double wooden doors. Wooden like a lodge or cabin, nothing like the brutalist structure of the Oldest House. She tugs on her fingerless gloves as two rangers look up at her with wide eyes. Maybe people would expect a director of a federal agency to look more formal, but that's never really been her style. At least, not when she can get away with it. A field response? She could get away with just her tactical gear. ]

Oh, shit, no way. Director! [ One stands rigid while the other seems gobsmacked. ] Sorry, ma'am. We didn't know you were coming.

It's fine, really. And, no formalities are needed. [ She nods to the doors. ] I need in, rangers. I'll be the one handling the interview.

[ Both glance at one another before one opens the door and let's her in. Jesse glances over her shoulder as she hears the muffled conversation: No way. She's so young--hey, did you hear? They said she can throw things more than five feet! The other one scoffs: Yeah, and pigs fly. No Director can do that.

Jesse smirks. The doors closed behind her and a moment later she hears one ranger swear and the other jump in surprise. Really, there's no need for people to be uptight. And, she doesn't mind showing off now and again. She turns her attention to the room as the two rangers continue their conversation about the supplies that flew twenty feet.

It's a larger room, and guessing by the tables, she guess it's a rec room. Which means they didn't have enough places to separate the two people they brought in. The room is also bright, at least, brighter than a room in the Oldest House. She can see glass of some sort, which means windows, even if they seem to be covered by a black wall--black rock. Which means they've tried to fortify the whole building against paranormal energies as much as possible. She imagines the black rock sheets lift during the day, which is good, as sunrise is about forty minutes away.

Jesse scans the room until she finds the sole occupant and the man she came to look for.

Taller than her, longer black hair pulled back from his face. Black and white plaid, blue jeans, and she's pretty sure he just went rolling around in the dirt and mud of the forest that surrounds all of Bright Falls. Her head tilts as she squares her shoulders and tries to contain the sudden spike of... excitement? It's definitely not butterflies, because, there'd be no reason for her to be nervous about meeting someone she's only heard in her head. Even if that is why she's excited. Someone who isn't dead or ascended to another plane of being who could reach her on the Hotline.

« Wow, it really is him. You can tell too, of course. Given he reached out to both of us. »

Jesse takes a few steps forward, but still has given the man pacing a round plenty of room. She doubts he'll know who she is. Four years is a long time, and there is nothing to say he knows what people he contacted look like. ]

Mr. Wake? The Alan Wake?

[crazyisinevitable]

[ They're coming. I shouldn't be in this room. They're still out there. They won't stop coming...!

The sound of footsteps on the floor echo around the room as the man in plaid and jeans paces in circles. He can't stop moving. If he stops moving, they'll catch him and he's dead. They almost caught him once... or was it twice? He's bleeding from a cut on his arm, and there's another cut on his leg, but he's ignoring both. The faceless people in the deer masks got him with- what was it? An axe? A knife? He was too busy running away from them with the FBI agent right beside him to even stop and look.

How did I get here? They were running, and the masks were getting closer. Their weapons flashed when the beam from Alan's flashlight hit them. He fell once. The agent fell too. They both managed to get back up and keep running. It was obvious enough that if they didn't, they'd get caught and be murdered. ]

We- We were all trapped in a horror story. The horror story wanted us dead. [ Alan mumbles those words to himself, a bizarre answer to a question that probably made no sense if anyone could hear it.

He continues pacing, but as he does, one hand strays to the messenger bag he still carries; it's just as covered in mud as the rest of him, but its contents still remain where he left them. His fingers curl around the flashlight as he pulls it out but doesn't turn it on.

... Wait. That voice. He knows it. Doesn't he? No, no he doesn't know it. It's his mind playing tricks on him again. His mind wants him to believe he knows it, and at first, it sounds like Alice, and then Rose, followed by Sarah, but it's none of those. It's a voice he's never heard before.

Whoever the voice belongs to, it's waiting for an answer, so he forces himself to give one, although he doesn't stop pacing. ]

Yeah. I'm- I'm Wake. Let me guess, you've read my books. [ It feels like he wrote them a lifetime ago. ] It's- We're not safe in here. They're coming. I can still hear them out there. [ Are they still out there? Did we manage to outrun them? Why would they stop coming after us, unless we- they're dead. ]

[outlierdirector]

[ Jesse watches him pace back and forth. He looks... different than she remembers. Well, "looks" and "remembers." She's seen the archived footage of him, but sensing him over the Hotline gave her a different impression. Longer hair and a beard. Not to mention he's bleeding. Her gaze notes two wounds and she shifts her weight back and forth.

« He can HEAR them? Through black rock? I doubt it, but, who knows what he's capable of. Given he can apparently change reality with his own powers. Maybe he has some sort of crazy knowing power. » ]

I'm pretty sure they won't get in. They can be the strongest monsters out there, but the room is lined in... something that helps keep abilities out and contained.

[ « Let's not tell him I read his books. I'm guessing he wouldn't care or like that I have. »

Jesse watches him make another circa before shaking her head. She moves over to the other side of the room and pulls the first aid kit from the wall. Then, she makes her way back to him--closer this time. She puts the kit on the table and slides it over towards him.

« I'm guessing he won't know who we are. That's fine--we didn't talk with him at all, and honestly, people shouldn't know who the Director is. » ]

You're bleeding. [ She gestures to his arm and leg. ] You'll want to take care of that--and, the lights in here are brighter than what your flashlight will do.

[ « I never thought I'd see him face to face. Wow, he looks like hell. Estevez didn't offer him or Anderson a shower? » ]

You're safer in here than out there, Mr. Wake.