[ The thing is, what he knows and remembers is complicated at best and incomprehensible at worst. It took time for him to figure out a system, but whenever he could, even if it was just jotting down some handwritten words or typing them out when he was at his typewriter, he wrote down things he knew he needed to remember. But there's so many of those pages now that it takes time to shuffle through all of them. Some of them have been grabbed so many times that they're wrinkled and the words are starting to rub off and fade. Those are the oldest ones. The ones he wrote at the beginning of all this. If it counts as a beginning.
How long has it been? He certainly can't measure it in seconds, minutes, and hours. Time is a nebulous figure here, and all he knows is that it feels like it's been thirty years. That doesn't mean it really has been that long, but to Alan, time is just one endlessly long, stretching tunnel.
But he's here. Jesse's done it. She brought him to this place where they can talk properly and meet properly and... it's almost overwhelming considering how many turns he took along the way just to get to this point. His shoulders sag just a bit when he sees the ripple of emotions making its way across her face. Hearing her laugh, even if it's brief, does something to him: it relaxes him, and that's significant in itself, because he can't remember the last time he felt as though he could relax. He feels like he's been so tightly wound that with relaxation comes a feeling of being rung out like one rings out a rag.
But beyond all of that, Alan's just tired. Exhausted, even. But it hasn't fully registered in his mind just how tired he really is. Adrenaline is still rushing through him and he's still in the near-constant state of fight or flight that's been his companion over the last however long. His eyebrows furrow together as he watches her with worry. Yes, it's her he's worried about, because... because worrying about him accomplishes nothing. He's still very much enmeshed in the Dark Place, but Jesse... Jesse's free.
She needs to survive. She's important. Needed. I have to- What do I have to do? I can't protect her. Can't save her.
Even though time is a vague concept in the Dark Place, Alan feels as though he's aged. He feels older, feels more tired, and there's a grim sense of resignation that wasn't there at the beginning of all this. But his mind reminds him a second time that he's here, and he has this reprieve, for however long it lasts. It registers in his mind that she's reaching towards him, hand raised to touch his hair, and it takes everything he has to not pull away.
He knows he must look rough, wild, and even undesirable. The rain drenched his hair and clothes, only adding to the wildness of his appearance. He's nothing much to look at, and Jesse's attention is only making him feel exposed... embarrassed... unfit to be seen.
But he stops thinking about how rough and unseemly he must look when he sees Jesse's legs give way beneath her, sending her sitting down where she fell. He's at her side in an instant, the lines of worry even more pronounced on his forehead, beneath the strands of hair. ]
You- You should sit. I.. I mean, you are sitting, but- over there. [ His words are just as halting and staggered as hers are, and there's a note of something bordering on controlled hysteria in them. It sounds like a contradiction, but paranoia and hysteria have been Alan's companions of late, and unless he's experiencing a moment of completely losing his head, he manages to keep them in hand. ]
I- Sorry. It's raining. Was raining. Is it still raining? I don't know. [ I sound insane. He startles when he feels her hand touching his hair. Part of him wants to tell her to stop. He's not clean, he'll only get her dirty, even if it might not be immediately obvious. It doesn't matter that her hands are covered in dirt themselves. Just like the passage of time, normal every day things like showering are nonexistent. It's a fight for survival every day, and suddenly Alan feels ashamed of his rough appearance.
It takes a monumental effort on his part to not lean further into her touch when she brisks her hand over the clothes he arrived here with. They're soaked too, which only adds to the feeling of embarrassment. ]
I'm sorry. [ He apologizes again, even though he's not really sure what he's apologizing for. ] Hi. Jesse. [ Faden. The hero. ]
How long ago was that, for you? I can't- I don't remember. [ He remembers reaching out to her via the Hotline. Sending messages asking for help. Wake needed a hero. Faden sensed a drowning man. Am I not still drowning? I have air for now, but for how long? ]
Are you okay? [ Funny, isn't it? Asking if she's all right, when he's been in a hellish nightmare for the last who-knows-how-long. But he won't be all right, not until he's free for good. It doesn't matter if he's all right, but it matters a great deal if Jesse is all right or not. ]
no subject
How long has it been? He certainly can't measure it in seconds, minutes, and hours. Time is a nebulous figure here, and all he knows is that it feels like it's been thirty years. That doesn't mean it really has been that long, but to Alan, time is just one endlessly long, stretching tunnel.
But he's here. Jesse's done it. She brought him to this place where they can talk properly and meet properly and... it's almost overwhelming considering how many turns he took along the way just to get to this point. His shoulders sag just a bit when he sees the ripple of emotions making its way across her face. Hearing her laugh, even if it's brief, does something to him: it relaxes him, and that's significant in itself, because he can't remember the last time he felt as though he could relax. He feels like he's been so tightly wound that with relaxation comes a feeling of being rung out like one rings out a rag.
But beyond all of that, Alan's just tired. Exhausted, even. But it hasn't fully registered in his mind just how tired he really is. Adrenaline is still rushing through him and he's still in the near-constant state of fight or flight that's been his companion over the last however long. His eyebrows furrow together as he watches her with worry. Yes, it's her he's worried about, because... because worrying about him accomplishes nothing. He's still very much enmeshed in the Dark Place, but Jesse... Jesse's free.
She needs to survive. She's important. Needed. I have to- What do I have to do? I can't protect her. Can't save her.
Even though time is a vague concept in the Dark Place, Alan feels as though he's aged. He feels older, feels more tired, and there's a grim sense of resignation that wasn't there at the beginning of all this. But his mind reminds him a second time that he's here, and he has this reprieve, for however long it lasts. It registers in his mind that she's reaching towards him, hand raised to touch his hair, and it takes everything he has to not pull away.
He knows he must look rough, wild, and even undesirable. The rain drenched his hair and clothes, only adding to the wildness of his appearance. He's nothing much to look at, and Jesse's attention is only making him feel exposed... embarrassed... unfit to be seen.
But he stops thinking about how rough and unseemly he must look when he sees Jesse's legs give way beneath her, sending her sitting down where she fell. He's at her side in an instant, the lines of worry even more pronounced on his forehead, beneath the strands of hair. ]
You- You should sit. I.. I mean, you are sitting, but- over there. [ His words are just as halting and staggered as hers are, and there's a note of something bordering on controlled hysteria in them. It sounds like a contradiction, but paranoia and hysteria have been Alan's companions of late, and unless he's experiencing a moment of completely losing his head, he manages to keep them in hand. ]
I- Sorry. It's raining. Was raining. Is it still raining? I don't know. [ I sound insane. He startles when he feels her hand touching his hair. Part of him wants to tell her to stop. He's not clean, he'll only get her dirty, even if it might not be immediately obvious. It doesn't matter that her hands are covered in dirt themselves. Just like the passage of time, normal every day things like showering are nonexistent. It's a fight for survival every day, and suddenly Alan feels ashamed of his rough appearance.
It takes a monumental effort on his part to not lean further into her touch when she brisks her hand over the clothes he arrived here with. They're soaked too, which only adds to the feeling of embarrassment. ]
I'm sorry. [ He apologizes again, even though he's not really sure what he's apologizing for. ] Hi. Jesse. [ Faden. The hero. ]
How long ago was that, for you? I can't- I don't remember. [ He remembers reaching out to her via the Hotline. Sending messages asking for help. Wake needed a hero. Faden sensed a drowning man. Am I not still drowning? I have air for now, but for how long? ]
Are you okay? [ Funny, isn't it? Asking if she's all right, when he's been in a hellish nightmare for the last who-knows-how-long. But he won't be all right, not until he's free for good. It doesn't matter if he's all right, but it matters a great deal if Jesse is all right or not. ]