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synthneon2023-09-19 12:40 am
outlierdirector) wrote in synthneon2023-09-19 12:40 am
oceanview || ❝ hold hands with my demons and creatures of night. ❞
Someone who can hear me and drink from the light
To see things from the same side
Is there anybody out there?
no subject
« We'll save our questions for later. We need to ground him. I'm not... I don't think we could cleanse him like we can a control point. Whatever it is going on inside his head? I don't think it's related to some paranormal force. I think it's him. Alan. He's losing his grip on it all. »
Polaris shifts. She doesn't like that.
Jesse takes note of how he's writing things done. Is he going to do that the entire conversation? Is that what he does now? Has his memory gotten that bad? Maybe that's why so many things repeat themselves in the revisions--loops. ]
No, we're not dead. Not right now at least. [ The small smile on her face is painful and doesn't quite reach the corners of her mouth. ] You haven't written the next version, have you? That's how Polaris could reach you.
[ Which means how long her dream lasts really is up to him.
Jesse shifts to sit comfortably beside him. She guides his hands to rest in her lap, even if she feels a slight crawling sensation between her shoulders. Physical contact like this isn't something she's used to. But, she wants him to feel like he can reach out for her and write if he needs to. It doesn't really matter to her that his clothes are soaking wet at the moment. ]
Yeah, we're safe. Because I made it that way. [ She waits until his gray eyes are looking back at her. ] The Oceanview Motel is what we call a Place of Power, meaning that it operates different than normal places in our reality. Home. [ Jesse nods towards the hall that he came down from. The one that has each door with a symbol. ] It connects realities that have lined themselves with it, and each door goes to that reality. The one with the Black Pyramid? That takes you to the Oldest House. The one in our reality.
[ She knows it's a lot, but she hopes he can follow. She's doing her best to explain it as simply as she can. ]
After... this, [ a vague gesture to her head is made, ] I woke up here. Ahti brought me here. I think. Maybe he summoned me? I'm not sure how he did it. But, I've been able to find my way back after every single version. [ She looks back up at him with a tilt of her head. ] It's my version of the Motel, Alan. The only things that can come here are the ones I let in--or that Polaris does. That's why she could lead you here.
Anyone else can use the Light Switch Cord, but that doesn't mean they'll be directed to find us. They'll go through other doors and other realities.
[ « I've been calling you for so long. Trying to get through. Every. Single. Loop. Every. Single. Version. I couldn't reach you or you never picked up. » ]
So, yeah. We're safe. It'll stop when you walk through the Spiral Door to try writing this again.
[ She reaches over with her other hand, slowly, and gestures to the key she sees in his pocket. It's not the same key she has. Jesse didn't enter through the door with the Spiral... so she can't enter there. All she can try to do is send calls, or messages, or even notes. She slipped a few under the door once and hoped it would work. He sent a manuscript that way once to them, so, why couldn't it work both ways?
Jesse never figured it out.
All she knows is she wrote a letter once. Maybe even twice. She slipped it under the door with the Spiral on it. Then, she stepped back and waited. She leaned against the opposite wall, walked around the Motel, rang the bell. Used the vending machines. Tried the door to the Oldest House. Checked every room in the Motel. Then, she came back to the door.
There was no answer. No note returned. No Hotline messages.
She leans her head against his arm and frowns to herself. Dreams work on their own logic, and sometimes memories are clear as day and others aren't. These ones always are. Every attempt to reach him and try to wake him up. Each attempt ended with failure, and she felt something break in her a little more each time. That's why she snapped in one of the loops. Even if she couldn't remember it inside the reality changed by his story? All of those emotions were still pent up and waiting to burst.
« I can't tell him how many times I've tried. It'll just upset him more. "Enough" will be a good answer if he does ask. » ]
No, it's--[ she pauses to force her voice back to normal, ]--it's good to know. We don't know how the Dark Place works. There's theories, but, without knowing things? I can't really help. I can't pass things along to myself to help you.
[ She glances back over at his hands and notes the wedding ring he still wears. Alice Wake, his wife. The woman that is the reason he's even in this position. Not that Jesse holds anything against any of them. It's just a reminder that he still holds onto something from his time with Alice--his past and the light in it. What does she have to help him like that?
Polaris is there to help guide him, because that's what she is. A guiding star. That's what she does.
But what about her, Jesse Faden? There had been something she gave him in the one version of events: the one that Scratch first killed her in. But, she's never seen it in any version after that. Which means that it is a detail he forgot--maybe he didn't write it down? It must not have been important enough to write down. Only important to her.
She'll never say that it hurts to know that. ]
What else do you want to know?
no subject
A cold hand seems to grasp onto him as fear sets in. When he starts to slip like this, reality starts to slip too, and he doubts that even this motel is enough to shield them from whatever his mind conjures up.
But Jesse didn't call him here for him to spiral out along with his thoughts that lean more towards despair and confusion than clarity. He has to force himself to stop, to make the churning storm in his brain die down at least long enough for him to talk with her.
I'm sorry. He's not going to apologize out loud, as she told him that needs to wait for another time. But he can't stop himself from thinking it. ]
If I could find a way to write it so that no one dies, I would have done that already. [ He laughs, and it's a dry, almost cutting laugh. ] All I have are loops, and loops on top of loops, and I'm no closer to finding the right ending. [ Shit. ] I really am blocked. [ Still. Alice's efforts didn't help. The Dark Presence might as well be using his being blocked to keep him here and drowning. When will this end? I have to be able to write the right ending. I did it once, didn't I?
He's spiraling again despite his efforts to stop himself, and the flow of thoughts only halts when Jesse directs his hands to rest in her lap. An involuntary shiver forms at the base of his spine, but the gesture is enough to cause a brief sense of calmness in his agitated mind. His eyes slowly shift to hers and stay there this time. ]
So... So this is your dream, then. And as long as you're dreaming, you're changing it to how you want it to be. [ Then I don't want to wake her up. But I'll have to eventually... just not right now. ] All these realities are connected to this Motel. The Dark Place is connected too, but it's not as simple as walking through a door. [ He doesn't even need confirmation of that; if it really were that easy, he wouldn't still be trapped beneath the waves. ] But I guess that makes things easier for you, having this gateway to other realities.
[ His mind might be confused and easily set off on random tangents, but he thinks he's following her so far. Maybe this place is a kind of safe haven, or at least, neutral ground. He wonders if he'll be able to come back here now that he's come here once. Or maybe it's Jesse who has to let him in. He shakes his his head briefly. He's just a man trying to fight an impossible battle, and sometimes the information he receives and tries to make sense of is just too much even for him.
But as he continues to listen to her explanation and the mention of Ahti bringing her here, something happens in his mind's eye. The lights change colors, becoming tinged green, and he sees the outline of a familiar man: Ahti, with his mop. But strangely, this time, Ahti doesn't say anything, doesn't even move. He's just watching Alan. It's unlike the times before, when he's seen things, seen visions of people or places or people doing things. I don't understand any of this. Maybe I'm not supposed to.
Again, it takes some effort to refocus back on Jesse, and he's certain if she picked up on anything at all, she probably saw him glaze over for those few seconds when the vision or whatever it was came. Who knows why he saw Ahti. Maybe it was just Jesse mentioning him that triggered something. Great. Something else for him to figure out. ]
So you're in control here, at least to a degree. Good to know. [ It really is. And the knowledge that anyone can't just break in here on their own causes a huge wave of relief to wash over him. A sigh escapes him, and some of the tension in his form releases along with it. ]
I'm not sure I'm ready to try again. I know that I have to, that it's inevitable, but- I'm not ready. [ He's not ready to lose this: the first real peace he's felt in who knows how long. He's not ready to leave her, knowing that the next time he might see her, it'll be in another loop. God, I hate these loops, and I hate myself for writing them. ]
I don't think there's a way to really know how the Dark Place works, at least not completely. It's so big, bigger than anyone can imagine, and it can turn itself into anything, because of how it uses memory. Thought. Imagination. [ Alan knows better than anyone how dangerous that is. It's used himself against himself, to force him to go certain ways, do certain things. The Dark Place and the Dark Presence have all the cards, and he's little better than a pawn caught in their scheme.
If he could tell what's going through Jesse's mind, he'd have one clear answer for her: what does she have to help him? She has herself. Her cut-to-the-chase direct way of speaking. The way she calls him out when he's starting to slip. Maybe she hasn't been touched by the Bright Presence, but in Alan's mind, she's the brightness that he needs when the darkness around him, inside him, whatever it is- when it threatens to drown him. Maybe she's the real Champion of Light. It's a trite idea, but sometimes the trite ideas are the best ones.
Something's nudging the inside of his mind, like there's something he forgot but needs to remember. What is it? What am I forgetting? The frown lines form on his forehead again as he tries to remember whatever it is his mind is trying to get him to see. The ring he wears suddenly feels heavy on his hand, but that's not what he needs to remember. The green fog is back but it's not taking over everything this time. Maybe one day he'll understand how that all works. But for now... ]
Wait. Wait a second. [ He reaches for his bag again, opening it and pulling out a folded up stack of papers, some flat and looking new, while others are wrinkled and very clearly older than the rest. ] There's something in here, something I need to find.
[ He's suddenly too frenzied, too agitated, but if he can just find what it is he's looking for, maybe it'll help. ]
... Where is it? [ The stack isn't large, as it's mostly things scribbled on random pieces of paper, but there's so many smaller pieces that it's taking him time to find whatever it is he's after. ]
Wait, is that- Yes! [ He fishes out a tiny scrap of paper, so tiny he missed it the first time, and his gray eyes devour the words written on it like he's never seen words before. He reads them out loud so Jesse can hear too. ]
It was a gift. A talisman of sorts. It was only a set of keychains: his and hers. Or at least, that's how Faden described it: one for her, and one for him. To help them remember. To help Wake remember when the waves are coming in and his memory going out.
[ He's not entirely sure why it's written in the same format as the messages he sent Jesse, but it doesn't matter. It's something he forgot but wrote down in the event of his forgetting. And considering it took this long for it to come back to him? It's a good thing he did. ]
no subject
Maybe.
『 We were all trapped in a horror story. The horror story wanted us dead. 』
Jesse glances to the side. had that been a Hotline message or one of the manuscripts that they had found? Saga had mentioned it to her once--right? Then, it had to he a manuscript page. About Saga and Casey--looking into the case of their missing FBI Agent.
« Just how long has he been trying to get this story to work? It can't be just these loops, but it can't be the whole thirteen years... can it? That FBI agent went missing back in the AWE that Alan disappeared in. »
Now, she really wonders how long this had been going on.
She waits until he refocuses. Has he seen something? Is that how his powers work? He can see possibilities and outcomes and chose what one? She doubts its like that, and so she doesn't comment or ask. Nothing is that simple. ]
It's a horror story. You said so yourself in a message on the Hotline. People die in horror stories--casualties. [ Her tone seems almost flay as she thinks it over. ] That's the problem, isn't it? You can't decide to put up on the chopping block. So, Scratch is taking advantage of it. Killing who he wants, because the holes are left blank.
[ It makes sense now that she thinks about it. Every time she, or Steve, or anyone else die, it restarts. Alan knows these are people--real people. Maybe if he can't see a point in their death then he can't bring himself to write the story the way he needs it to be.
« Or...what if the story has a mind of it'd own and he's trying to coral it? Like, a herd of sheep. Maybe that's why I'm really here. It's not to save him, it's to help him put it together. Sort of. Something like that? »
He's not ready and neither is she.
Jesse squeezes his hand. ]
So, you're not ever sure if you've really done something then. Did you imagine it or did you really write it. And after thirteen years...
[ How is she supposed to help against that?
He's off talking again, pulling away his hand and searching through his bag. Jesse watches him quietly as he shifts through all the notes he has shoved up that bag. Her eyebrows raise.
« Just how many notes DOES he have in there? »
He finds what he is looking for and begins to read it outloud. Jesse almost freezes, eyes widening ever so slightly. She knows those words. They come to her over the Hotline in the loop where they were close. She was already looking at the keychains, and had briefly wondered if it meant it was her idea or his. Maybe, in the end, it didn't really matter.
She lost them after that loop. Well, hers anyways. And she never saw him with his again.
It was fine, really. Thats what she decided. She only ever remembered it about it in the Motel due to this weird inbetween dreamscape she's in. She can't remember if they ever got close to that gift shop again, but, it seems like most loops they never spent much time together anyways. Maybe that's by design.
She has them now, with her, of course. Why wouldn't she? It's her dream. They were important to her.
« I figured he thought it was stupid or... something. That they meant more to mr than they did him. But, he kept that message in his bag. So, maybe... »
Jesse looks down to the carpet and a myriad of expressions cross her face in a blink of an eye. Surprise, endearment, confusion, and most of all: vulnerability. Jesse doesn't like being vulnerable. It shows a weakness she doesn't like people to see. They take advantage of it, try to convince her what's real isn't. Being who she really is ... well... it's safer to keep that away.
Jesse reaches into her pocket and pulls out the two keychains. They combine to make one. It's two halves of a deer, because it's just a stupid collectors item from Deerfest. For a long moment she simply runs her thumb over the combined trinkets. Should she even give it back to him? Would he want it? Maybe it's just a discarded part of the story and that's why he'd forgotten it. "Fat", he mentioned, to cut from a cleaner more direct version of the story.
She splits them along the line they come apart at and reaches over to the bag he carries. It takes a bit of work before she can clip his onto the bag, but, she hopes he can understand what she's saying without saying it.
Then, she sits back against the wall and looks forward down the hall. Well. It's not really looking, just staring inba direction. Her thumb moves over her part of the keychain. She'll lose it in the next loop--she always has. ]
I owe you a story, don't I? [ Her voice is quiet, but not distant. Just... small. Vulnerable. ] My story. Polaris, me, and Dylan.
no subject
There's a cult and ritual killings and maybe Alan knows the identities of the sacrificed victims. Maybe he knows but tried and failed to block it out. How is any of this going to help him escape? Maybe this story doesn't work and won't work because its writer doesn't know how to make any of it make sense. ]
It is, but it doesn't work. I can't see how a horror story is supposed to accomplish what I want it to. [ Maybe the story does have a mind of its own, and like the Dark Presence, it's too powerful for Alan to control. The story wants blood, seems to demand it, but Alan's unwilling to give it. Hasn't he played with enough people's lives? ] I can't decide because I won't do it. I know it's giving Scratch an opening, but I just can't write that, not even to stop him.
[ I could write my own death, but what would that do? There's so many pieces here that don't fit, and the way they fit isn't how I'd write it. It's different when it's just a book you're writing and the characters who die along the way don't die in reality. I can't- I won't do it. ]
I think I'm causing the problem by not writing what I should write, and it's only making it worse. [ And even if he does go the route of setting up people as sacrifices, letting them get knocked down in the name of advancing the story, how the hell does that lead him to his own escape?
It's unthinkable to him to bargain the life of another in order to secure his freedom, whether it's setting someone up to be the sacrificial lamb or orchestrating a way to escape by switching places with someone else. No one deserves to be trapped in the Dark Place. No, he'd rather be trapped there for the rest of existence than see someone else be forced into the hellhole too.
He feels his resolve start to flag. How long can he keep this up? How long can he hold on when his grip is slipping?
I can't do it. I don't know how. ]
The notes help. I started writing them, sometimes by hand and sometimes by typewriter, depending on where I am. If it's something I think I'll need to remember, I write it down. But I haven't written everything. I know I've forgotten things. [ If he had every note he'd ever written, the bag he carries would have burst a long time ago. ] It's not safe to write down everything, anyway. Even thinking about something before I write it can be used, so I can't think about it if I'm going to write something down.
[ If the thoughts don't form in his mind, it seems as though it's harder for the Dark Presence to pull on them and twist them into something else. It's not a foolproof idea, but it's one of the few things he has that works.
Finally, Alan just seems to run out of words and things to say. They're both exhausted from their respective struggles. He remembers the keychains because he wrote about it. He wrote about it because they're important. Because Jesse's important. She found him when he wasn't expecting to be found. Wanting something and actually expecting it are two different things, after all.
Did he cut it from the story in order to protect her? Did he even manage to protect her? He doesn't think that he has. She's still just as vulnerable to the danger Scratch brings as anyone.
His eyes follow her hands as she moves to clip the keychain to his bag. He knows what she's trying to communicate without actually saying it, and he just smiles. The keychain won't stay, not if the rules stay the same. He wishes it would, because he wants to keep it. Wants to have it there where he can touch it if he feels like it. It's something for the two of them, something to help him remember.
He wants to remember this, too. He slides over a little just to be closer to her, and for a second, he nudges her with his shoulder, briefly leaning carefully against her for a few seconds. If only they could stay like this, in this moment, forever. But it's a dream, and dreams don't last forever. Soon enough, Jesse will wake up from it. But Alan won't. He'll go back to the nightmare that seems to stretch on forever, and when he does, he'll be alone.
He doesn't want to think that, or the insane mental spiral will begin all over again, so for now, he just sits beside her and reaches for her hand again. ]
I think you were going to tell me that story, once. [ But she never had the chance to, because Scratch interfered. ] I'd like to hear it, if you want to tell it.
no subject
[ « We. The two of us--maybe three, if you're interested. We're trapped in this cycle until someone breaks it. Maybe... maybe the hero in this regard isn't supposed to save him in a physical sense. Maybe only Alan can save himself from the Dark Place. Instead, maybe I'm supposed to help him get to that point. »
It's an idea she hadn't had before. Heroes save people, but, there are different ways of saving people. This might be the way Alan needs to be saved. He's an established writer--world famous--best seller. He can save himself, he just needs to remember how he can. He's so lost in it all that ... no, she's not an editor. She's more like a feedback wall, isn't she? ]
If it's spur of the moment, how are you supposed to be able to put it all together?
[ A genuine question from someone who has no idea how writing a novel really works.
Her fingers slide between his once he takes her hand again and lets him lean against her. It's... nice--this, having this. She's never had someone she feels she could trust entirely. Emily comes close, then Steve after her. Still, there's things she keeps from them. Things that they can't possibly understand. They've been in contact with a dimensional being, and they've been in Thresholds, but they aren't like her. They aren't parautalitarians. They have no idea the forces that seem to claw at her to get her to do as they want.
« But he does. Alan does. »
This is unrepresented territory. Neither of them know what to do because it's not been done. That means they have to forge forward with trail and error. They can figure it out. He brought her here, into this story, and she's going to find a way to make it work.
Even if it means they part when he enters back through the Spiral Door and she wakes back up in Bright Falls.
The grip on his hand tightens and in that moment it's obvious that Jesse is scared. Not because of what she has to say, but of his reaction to it. Everyone she's ever told the details to has called her crazy. Insane. Not-well. Delusional. That she made it all up in her head to try and explain the trauma of losing her family. Except, she wasn't, and it did happen. She knows that.
It doesn't mean others will accept it or even believe it.
Even if they've been trapped in a nightmare dimension that makes every thought reality.
« What is going to happen when he realizes how crazy I am? That I'm not this perfect, amazing, strong hero he has in his head? I'm just... some screwed up ordinary girl that has an alien in her head? » ]
There... there was a landfill outside of Ordinary that we all played in. Me, Dylan, our friends. Everyone knew about it, but, we got to play there. One day we found--we found this slide projector. Every slide took us to a different places. There was... there was one we called the "Temple", and we met something else in there. Something we called the Not-Mother. She... she had all these kids with her. Our friend Tom and his gang, they really liked that place. Dylan and I didn't. We kept looking at the other slides until we found one that we called "The Hand." We met Polaris there.
[ She shifts then, uncomfortably so. ] Tom and the gang stole the Slide Projector and visited the Not-Mother. They drank and ate whatever she gave them... and we didn't know what it did at first. [ Part of her wants to ball up and curl away so he can't see her. There's been too many times people have stared holes in her for this story. It's why not even Emily has all the details--unless she read the AWE files. ] They... they changed, but not physically at first. They were aggressive, and violent, and turned on everyone else.
Our math teacher, Mrs. Chester? They killed her. They broke her legs with a piano...a-and then bashed her head in. The police came, took them away. Then they put a curfew for all the kids in Ordinary. Mom and Dad demanded to know what Dylan and I knew. I was so mad that I just wished everything would go away... and when we woke up in the morning... all of them were gone. Every adult in Ordinary vanished without a trace.
[ « I still wonder if it was my fault. » ]
We... put together a plan; the rest of the kids, Dylan, and I. We spied on Tom's group and found their "secret base." The Not-Mother was changing them into monsters. Dylan and I took the Slide Projector and ran away. H-he fell and hurt his knee, and they almost caught us, but Neil saved us in time. I changed the slide to Polaris' and asked for her help. She... she helped us turn it off. Tom, his gang, the Not-Mother and Neil all disappeared together. We never saw them or the adults ever again.
[ Her head tilts down, suddenly glad her hair can obscure her face. she can feel the tears burning in her eyes as that familiar feeling of anxiety craws up her spine. The feeling of knowing she's going to be rejected. ]
I-I burned all the slides. Except Polaris'.
no subject
A quote from the story comes to mind, and somehow, Alan manages to remember most of it, if not the quote in its entirety: What a demanding job I’ve chosen! Day in, day out on the road. The stresses of trade are much greater than the work going on at head office, and, in addition to that, I have to deal with the problems of traveling, the worries about train connections, irregular bad food, temporary and constantly changing human relationships which never come from the heart. To hell with it all!
It certainly has sentiments that Alan can relate to. Maybe the story needs to be a different kind of horror: the horror of being restricted, confined, not free to go where one wants or say what one wants. But it all comes back to the question of how such a story can be used by him to lead to his escape. In The Metamorphosis, there was no escape, in the usual sense. Death is an escape to some, but Alan's not sure that's the conclusion he's been heading towards. Certainly the Dark Presence would like it to be; then perhaps it could claim Alan like it claimed Barbara. It does need a new vessel, thanks to him. He's been touched by the darkness, but maybe the darkness is just waiting to swallow him whole.
Half-baked ideas with no clear reason to them seems to be all Alan can come up with right now, and he shakes his head, frustrated with himself. ]
If I had the answer to that, maybe I wouldn't be stuck. My writing process back then wasn't like this. It- Well, it had an order to it. It made more sense.
[ Writing a novel with nothing on the line but acceptance or rejection from critics is far different from writing a story that could lead to his escape or lead to him going deeper and farther into the waves.
As their hands twine together, Alan feels something similar to what Jesse's feeling. Alice tried to understand. She was supportive, understanding. But she couldn't understand the feeling of being blocked: artistically, creatively, whatever you wanted to call it. It's not the same as the common ground that exists between himself and Jesse, but the ideas are similar. If he's a pawn in a bigger scheme, then so is Jesse. He can't know about the specific forces that claw at her, but he does know a thing or two about being clawed at and pulled here and there against his will.
But, the very second that Jesse's hand tightens around is is the second that Alan's thoughts stop in their tracks. He's never been anyone's cheerleader, or even really that good at encouraging people. Oh, he tried with Alice. He wanted to be the supportive husband, her support system and rock when she needed one. But in the end, he figures he was terrible at it. He wasn't everything he should have been.
He wouldn't dare presume anything about this relationship... friendship... thing he has with Jesse, but he wants to offer what support he can. He doesn't have an alien in his brain giving him nudges when he needs to do things, but he thinks that Jesse needs that. She gets it from Polaris, and from Steve, and probably other people in her life too, but he wants to be one of those people as well.
Mr. Sensitive, he isn't, but when he sees the look in her eyes and the way she's holding herself, it's obvious to him that she's scared. Maybe even terrified. I know I've never been good at listening, or at helping people, but- maybe I can help her. All he can do, however, is wait for her to be ready to tell him her story, if she decides to. If she changes her mind, he'll understand. But either way, he's ready to listen.
He listens, and at first, his expression doesn't change. The slide projector is obviously one of those special items that doesn't act the way it should. It's interesting to him in a disturbing sort of way to learn that Jesse had dealings with otherworldly things much, much earlier than Alan had. Of course, everyone's story is different, but hearing this, he realizes that her life has not been easy. Not only did she deal with seeing other realities or dimensions or whatever the hell the slide projector led her to, but she also saw death. Violent murder. The mass disappearance of all the adults in her life. That doesn't just go away without leaving a permanent mark.
Alan doesn't stop holding her hand, and neither does he pull away, even when she shifts and acts like she wants to pull away from him. He debates about whether or not he should give her space, but in the end, he slowly and very carefully slides in just a fraction closer, still holding her hand.
The tale Jesse tells is a wild one, with twists and turns that Alan's fairly sure rival anything he's ever written. But this is a story no one wants to live, much less read. It doesn't take a genius to see that it's affected Jesse greatly, and still affects her even now. Everything from her posture to the tone of her voice tells Alan that she's still very much shellshocked by all of it. How does she manage to appear so... calm? Ordinarily, I mean. If all of that happened to me, I'd be an even bigger mess than I already am.
Alan has a lot of reasons to be very bad at comforting someone, starting with not being the greatest or kindest of husbands and ending with the fact that he's been living (if it can be called that) in a dimension of nightmares where there's no room for kindness. But sometimes it's just easy to know what to do, even if it's harder to ignore the voice saying that it's stupid and likely to make things uncomfortable.
Alan squeezes Jesse's hand again, and with his other hand, he reaches out to touch her hair. If she doesn't pull away or shake his hand away, he knows he wants to touch the side of her face next, but he somehow knows better than to rush this. It has to be at her pace, on her terms, since she's the one baring her most private, most personal memories to him. ]
no subject
[ Maybe her input wasn't as helpful as she thought it would be. What does she know of writing stories--especially horror stories? All she's done is read them, and in one case, live one. Maybe her life would be more of a science fiction story. Something like X-Files. ]
Then, let's find a way to make it orderly. Put it together.
[ It's the only thing she can think to do to help other than sit there and hold his hand. Si t there and have the feeling that she doesn't want to let go. Eventually, she will. She'll have to see him to the Spiral Door, it'll close, and she'll be alone in the Motel until the bumpy road in Bright Falls jars her awake.
Jesse's grip on his hand tightens as her story continues. While not iron clad, it's clear she doesn't want to let go. Yet, at the same time, she doesn't want him to see how vulnerable she feels. He hasn't pulled away--in fact he's gotten closer. There's nothing that suggests he'll get up and leave like others have. Part of her can't believe that he's still there with her.
« Why hasn't he left? He can't... he doesn't mean to stay after all this, does he? »
He gently brushes the hair away from her face, and her gaze quickly darts to his. While not wild, or agitated, it's clear in her eyes she's worried about his reaction. She isn't ready to dart away or curl up in a ball to hide from him. Just...scared. Scared that in the end he'll decide she's too crazy, too messed up. Nothing like a hero. ]
The Bureau came the next day. They asked Dylan and I what happened. We took them to the Slide Projector, explained everything. I thought... I thought at first they'd be on our side. That they'd try to help. They didn't. They took the Projector, and tried to take us. They got Dylan, becaue I ran. I ran away.
[ « And I left him behind. I was so scared. I didn't mean to--but it doesn't change the fact I did. He's where he's at because of me. It's my fault. »
Her gaze darts back to the floor once more. ]
I... went from foster home to foster home. Place to place. Job to job. No one... no one every believed me. They said it was an industrial accident. Every psychiatrist, every psychiatric care, they all said the same thing. I made it up. It was all in my head. I lost Mom, Dad, and Dylan to the accident. That I thought I was going to other worlds because I ran away in my own head. Polaris was just an imaginary friend to help me through it all.
[ She shifts again. She shouldn't be uncomfortable telling this to Alan. He'll understand. He's had his own hellish experiences with other dimensions and crazy alien beings. But, she cant help but think he'll say it's too much; too fantastical. ]
I tried to find Dylan, and the Bureau. I kept moving--never staying in one place long. It wasn't until I found them that I realized they had been watching me my whole life. They had access to my school records, who my foster parents were, even my psych visits. Visits that they tried to "help" me with so they could cover up Ordinary more.
There's---there's this program that Trench started--the Director before me. "The Prime Candidate Program." A list of people who are parautalitarians that could be the next Director. Dylan was P6... and I was listed as P7. Two kids from a fucked up situation that Trench thought could be groomed and taught how to use their powers to become Director. No questions asked, no seeing if that's what we wanted. He decided that.
[ She glances back at him quickly. ] So... if you're crazy, Alan? Then I'm way ahead of you. I'm so crazy that when I stepped into the Oldest House and realized it confirmed everything I knew about Ordinary? I was happy to be there.
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Maybe my problem is that I'm too close to see what I need to do, and maybe that's where you come in. [ Or maybe he's just desperate and reaching out for anything he can latch onto. ]
You don't have to, you know. Just- giving you the option of saying no. Unlike the last time I got you involved. [ He smiles a sort of wry smile. He knows it's too late for that, that she'll just pin him with a look and probably call him an asshole, but he wants to at least try and give her the chance to back out if she wants to.
But as she continues her story, he goes silent but still watching and listening. This isn't about him. This is about Jesse trying to let him into her world by explaining where she's come from. At certain points throughout her tale, he shifts involuntarily as if something in her words is setting off that part of his mind that's too reactive, too on edge about perceived threats. Images of Hartman looming over him, injecting him with strong drugs, weave themselves through his mind, but he tries his best to send them away as soon as they form.
Jesse needs him to be here, not falling back into the insane memories in his head. His gaze softens again when he continues looking at her. Why hasn't he left? Where would he go? And why would he leave her when she's making herself vulnerable through sharing her story?
He can't know what it was like, but as she begins to describe the reactions she received from people, his gaze hardens again and his mouth presses into a thin line. People might have thought of him as just another relatively rich, spoiled author, and to a degree, they'd be right. He became detached from the world, from people, but he didn't become numb to everything. He's no do-gooder, set out to right all the wrongs in the world, but he knows there's injustice and people who fail to understand others.
That's what seems to have happened with Jesse, and it makes him angry on her behalf. ]
Man, those psychiatrists... [ He shakes his head. He's not trying to shift focus from her back onto him, because, well- he's been the focus enough, as far as he can tell. ] I'd like to tell them a thing or two about making things up. [ In other words, he believes her. He can't not believe her after everything he's seen. ]
So you finally found them. [ Which means she also more than likely found her brother. What sort of state was he in? Somehow, Alan figures it must not have been good. He can't place a finger on why he feels that, only that in a story like this, there can't have been many bright spots. He can relate to that. ]
I'm getting the feeling that this Bureau isn't as altruistic or even helpful as... well, I don't even know what the purpose of it is, but it sounds like your typical organization: Coverups. Secrecy. Manipulation.
[ It's all so fucked up, and Alan's irritation that borders on anger at all of it threatens to break loose. If he wasn't holding her hand and didn't have his arm around her, he'd pinch the inside of his wrist to try and ground him before he spirals out of control again. That's not a helpful reaction to either of them, but what he's hearing only makes him feel more incensed.
But what he doesn't understand, given what he knows of how Jesse's story turned out, is how she went from wanting to find the Bureau and her brother and presumably hating the Bureau for everything to becoming the Director. He's certain he looks confused, but he has to address what she just said first. ]
Call me insane, or stupid, or whatever the hell you want to, but I don't see how that makes you crazy. Your story? It's got more turns in it than a winding road, but... You're not crazy. Not in my mind. [ Which probably doesn't mean anything given his own history, but that's not the point. ] You found a place that confirmed everything you believed, everything that got you called crazy by everyone around you. That doesn't make you crazy. You were right, weren't you? Right all along.
[ To him, she still seems normal. Gifted with abilities beyond most people's understanding, but in his eyes, with his experiences, she's still normal. And she's still the hero, because she's still here and fighting and trying to help. ]
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[ She's not the best at comforting or being supportive. She goes in, she gets the job done, and she takes care of people that way. That's not exactly how this works. While she might be powerful and can fling things with her mind? This is his work of art. It has to come from him. Only he knows how it needs to fit the criteria to make it work. He's the one with the knowledge of the Dark Place and it's rules. He knows better than anyone. ]
Well, I'm here. You're here. We might as well try to figure this out. [ Which is very much her way of saying she's going to help him make it work. However that needs to be.
Although, to do that, she needs to reign herself back in. It's not so much that Ordinary bothers her as much as it used to--it was the cataclysm her life became because of it. How they left her to be monitored, gaslight her, all because they had decided to groom Dylan. Something they still couldn't do. Instead of helping her brother, they hurt him, and she was apart of it. If she hadn't run away, and went to the Buearu with Dylan, then, maybe... ]
I did. [ Her hand manages a small squeeze despite its near rock hard grip on his. That's her answer to the psychiatrists. They were never there to help her. ] And... I found Dylan too. What was left of my baby brother.
[ « That sounds worse than it should of. Let's try again. » ]
They ... Trench started this program. "The Prime Canidate Program." It was supposed to help find and document parautalitarians so they could have someone ready to take over the Directorship if something happened. Dylan and I were both on the list after Ordinary--and I got away. So, they focused on Dylan. Training him, teaching him, but I guess no one in the god damn Buearu knew how to raise a child. He was... well, he was like me, so he has powers. He ended up causing accidents--killing people. So they locked him up.
And, when the Hiss came in, he welcomed them--rejecting Polaris. So, Polaris brought me to the Oldest House to stop them. Trench was dead when I showed up, and I picked up the gun... and here I am. [ She pauses for a long moment. ] We cleansed Dylan, but, he's been in coma ever since.
[ « It's been four YEARS. Is he ever going to wake up? »
Jesse leans her head back against the wall behind them and stares up at the ceiling for a moment. Then, she leans her head against his shoulder. It's almost an automatic movement, and she hasn't realized she did it until she feels her hair is stating to get damp. ]
I became the Director because I passed the test--and I didn't want it at first. All I wanted to do was find Dylan. Then... I realized that all of it happened because of the Slide Projector in Ordinary. Trench was infected by the Hiss because of it. He opened the burned slide to their dimension and brought them in. I had to stop it. No one else could.
[ She glances up at him. ]
And then, you messaged me over the Hotline for the first time.
[ A tight smile touches her face. ] Crazy isn't going to think crazy anything but normal, Alan. What I'm trying to say is you have that now too--and you're not alone.
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[ Well, at least he's learned what not to do, which is not giving it more ammunition than it already has. ]
I have a theory, but I'm not sure I want to test it, because I don't know what'll happen if I do. If you throw a stone into some water and it makes a ripple, the ripples spread. [ He's afraid of the ripples he'll cause if he starts throwing stones again. ]
What was left of him? [ Something like concern shows in his expression. He might not be the best at showing care, concern, or sympathy, but he does feel sorry for Jesse. Sorry for her family: her parents, her brother. ]
That sounds more than a little sketchy to me, like they were trying to track down and play big brother with people. I'm guessing they don't put much stock in things like consent. [ It certainly doesn't sound like they even considered it when they grabbed Dylan and started indoctrinating him in whatever it was they were doing. He doesn't want to think too long about that particular notion, because if Jesse's now the Director, he wonders if she subscribes to any of those ideas or methods of acting. He wants to believe she's different, that she's not like that, given her history, but-
Power, responsibility- they do funny things to people. It's not the same thing at all, but Alan believes that people like Hartman fell prey to that. Jesse isn't even remotely the same as Hartman, and it makes Alan feel more than a little uncomfortable to think about them in the same sentence. No, he's sure (as sure as he can be) that Jesse would never do anything like what she's described. Of course people sometimes can't break the cycles that they're trapped in (ironic, considering his own state of existence at the moment), but he wants to believe that Jesse's more than capable of ending that cycle.
Alan's expression turns more serious and thoughtful then as he imagines what seeing all of this... living it... what it was like for Jesse. He still believes her to be incredibly strong, to have gone through all of this and still come out of it willing to keep going and keep fighting. ]
I'm sorry about your brother. But- [ He isn't speaking with any sort of experience here, so he hopes that his words don't sound incredibly trite. ] I'm sure he knows that you're there, somehow. [ Family bonds are powerful things, and maybe he's a sappy sucker for even thinking like this, but he would like to believe that Dylan knows Jesse's there and hasn't given up on him. Of course, to say those words aloud would be difficult, because Alan doesn't show that side of him easily, not even after thirteen years. ]
I remember that, believe it or not. I was desperate to reach out, to make a connection. [ To talk to someone, even if it wasn't really talking, because she couldn't talk back. I'm still desperate even now. And I don't want this to end. I don't want to walk through that door, knowing what's waiting for me on the other side. I don't want to go back to fighting alone. But I don't have a choice. I can't just stop. ]
I guess I could just keep arguing in circles that I don't believe you're crazy, but that's not how I want to spend our time here. [ Who knows when he'll see Jesse again, and who knows what he'll remember? He's already guessed he won't remember this, not when he begins to write and the loops start again. ]
I... I want to do something. Something I haven't done in a long time. But I don't know what you'll think if I do it.
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[ She tilts her head back to look up at him. ] Well, bounce your theory off me. See where it gets you. If nothing else, it might help to hear you say the ideas.
[ Her only idea is taking him into one of the rooms, stripping things off the walls, and having him pin all his ideas up so they can connect them. It's a good idea, but, she's not sure the practicalities of it. Especially given the lights seem to burn out in all the rooms. It's another reason why she decided to set up this whole thing in the hallway. The lights stay on, and she doubts Alan wants to be anywhere but in the light.
Then, a shake of her head. ] Not under Trench they didn't. Maybe even under Northmoore. Yes, we study monsters, and items, and people all effected by realities entering our own. There just has to be a better way to do it than what we have been. A way to help people too. Not just study them, but, help them understand the world they really live in now. And, if they can't, then find a way to make their lives as normal as possible. We can't let what happened to me or Dylan happen to someone else.
[ Not that she knows of the worries going on in Alan's head, but, hopefully it points to the fact that she wants to change the Bureau. She does not want the response they had to happen to Ordinary to happen ever again. No more stealing children, no more gaslighting victims. They may still need to cover things up, but there has got to be a better way. ]
You were on their list too, you know. Because of what you did in Bright Falls back in 2010. Because you constructed an entire altered world event, then ended it yourself. But, they presumed you were dead ...until that page of yours showed up in the Oceanview Motel. [ She pauses. ] That's... actually the first time I heard from you. It was like the words you wrote on that paper were ringing over the Hotline, even if it was more like a recorded message. But, that paper showed up two years before I even arrived at the Oldest House.
[ At the mention of Dylan, she frowns and lets her gaze drop again. Her head tilts further against his shoulder and her hand finally relaxes in his. She doesn't pull away, nor does she let go of his hand, but it's at least not an iron grip. It seems like he'll be staying even if it's just to avoid going back into the Dark Place.
A faint smile almost tugs entirely on her face. ]
Well, I heard you, and went to clean up the mess in the Investigations Sector. I mentioned it before, but, I took care of Hartman...and whatever mess he left behind. [ Jesse looks back up at him and turns into him more, if only so she can get closer to make her point. ] They captured him and reconstructed this flimsy version of the Lodge he ran? Trying to get him to react to things so they could figure out how the Dark Presence worked. At least, I think that's what it was. There was... this recording I found, that the Bureau confiscated. It was Hartman talking about how he had seen "Tom" and you walking around Bright Falls--and others had too. He was convinced the best thing to do to understand it all was to dive into Cauldron Lake. It possessed him, and they dragged him back to the Oldest House and kept him there. Until he went berserk. They sealed Investigations after that... but the Hiss got in anyways.
[ Then, she gives him a slightly pointed look. ] And the Hiss and the Dark Presence, they... interacted, somehow. You said it stretched him, and, you weren't wrong. He was huge! And, not only did he have that shield thing that the people in this AWE have? But, he could do things that people possessed by the Hiss could do. It's almost like... he was both things. Which, is probably why you called him "The Third Thing" in the end.
[ « If the Dark Presence and the Hiss can coexist in one thing and stretch people into monsters...what about you? Is there something you can resonate with that's like that? If you cancel out the Hiss, then, does something cancel out the Dark Presence? Should I ask him? »
Polaris shifts.
« I'll take that as a "yes." Thanks. »
His last statement pulls her from her conversation with Polaris. She is about to ask if there is an opposite to the Dark Presence, but, she finds herself pausing given his statement. She imagines there's plenty of things he hasn't done in a long, long time. Thirteen years. What about being a person in a day to day life gets lost in that time? ]
And that is?
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He then shifts his gaze to meet with hers. ] I guess that all of this really is a lot bigger than anything the two of us can do, huh? [ Her situation and his seem all but insurmountable, and yet he still thinks that she managed to come out on top, at least in several ways. From what it sounds like, she's not entirely in control, but like him, she has some things that give her leverage.
Her iron grip was starting to cause his hand to ache but he didn't want to mention it or pull away, because if she needed to hold his hand to ground herself or steady herself or anything, then that was what he wanted. But when she relaxes her grip, he almost immediately gently squeezes her hand again. Telling her about his theory isn't going to be easy, and he can guess she might not like it. But it's just a theory and maybe it's what he'll have to do next.
He does appreciate the forethought she's had in keeping them in the hallway where the lights seem to stay on. It hasn't escaped his notice that other parts of the motel seem dark, and the thought of being in one of those rooms sitting in the dark, even with Jesse there with him makes his skin crawl. As long as he's in the light, he feels safe- well, safer. In a lot of ways, he's still that kid who's scared of the dark and of the things lurking in the shadows. Now that those things have a name and images associated with them, Alan wants as little to do with the darkness as possible. So yes, he's glad that Jesse set this all up right here instead of somewhere else.
Still, her thought of using the wall as an idea board to pin thoughts and theories onto it isn't a bad one by any means. She can't know it, but he has something similar in the room where he does all of his writing inside the Dark Place. ]
Well, I think that in order to end the loops- the altered world event... something has to happen, and it has to be big. Not necessarily large-scale, but significant enough to cause damage to something. [ Or someone. He's just running with hypotheses based off of what he knows about what Thomas Zane did, and extrapolating conclusions from it. He could be entirely wrong, but he needs to find the right ending. Maybe doing what he has in mind won't end everything entirely, but it could at least close the loops. Or maybe it'll wind up starting new ones. He makes a frustrated noise in spite of himself. ]
So, uh- I guess I'm going to have a talk with you and this Bureau when... if I get out. [ He hasn't thought about it at all, because all of his thoughts have been focused on writing his escape, and when he's not thinking about that, he's thinking about how to survive. ] But aside from that, if you can manage to do all that, well... [ He thinks it'll be a good thing. But it's a bit of a tall order; not impossible, just a significant undertaking. ]
I was? [ He's surprised, because of course he had no idea, but then again, if this Bureau is keeping tabs on people with abilities like theirs, it only makes sense. ] I've gotta be honest, I thought- Well, I didn't think I'd end up on anyone's list, unless it was a list of crazy people that need to be brought in. [ Locked up. Kept away from everyone for everyone else's overall safety. Although, truth be told, this is actually the first time Alan's had time to think about this. Now that he has more information about the Bureau, his mind's already off and running with what it thinks they'll want to do with him if he finally manages to leave the Dark Place. God, I hope I don't end up like her brother. I don't think she'd do that, not after everything she's seen, but I'm not family. Not related. She doesn't owe me any more consideration or anything.
He still wants to believe that Jesse is better, that she won't be like the names of the previous Directors that she's listed. But he'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't a little scared. ]
Sorry about that, by the way. [ But whatever else he was about to say about the Hartman situation gets forgotten about as she goes on to explain what happened on this side of things. ] Why recreate the Lodge? [ Alan's expression darkens as memories of said lodge resurface. But she goes on to explain further, and Alan has to force himself to not interject again. This is all information he didn't have, because, well- information sharing isn't a two way street, not with the Dark Place. ] So that's what he did. I just knew something happened to him, and Hartman ended up changed, but it happened because he dove into the lake...
[ If he wasn't holding her hand, he'd press his hands to his face as he tries to process this. It gives context to what he'd said about Hartman being altered, stretched, changed into something else: an unrecognizable thing. Of course he knew that it had something to do with the Dark Presence and the Hiss, but he hadn't known what started it all. But hell, if there's anyone that deserves a trip into the waiting jaws or hands or whatever the hell it is that makes up the Dark Presence, it's Hartman. Alan knows that thought isn't a good one, but he has no love at all for Hartman after everything. ]
I guess even Hartman wasn't expecting the ending he got. I wish I could say I feel bad for him, but I just can't do that. [ Logically, Alan knows no one deserves an outcome like what Hartman received, but feelings aren't always logical, and he knows his certainly aren't. He can't be the bigger person in this particular instance.
As for the thing Alan wants to do, it's odd in a way. Maybe it's even nonsensical. Out of all the things he hasn't been able to do while locked in the Dark Place, this shouldn't be at the top of the list. But maybe it's because this is a dream state, not the real world. Maybe he'd do this anyway even if it was the real world. He hasn't had a connection with anyone human and real in a very long time. And he would never dare do something like this if a connection didn't already exist; granted, it's a connection they formed in one of the many loops they've gone through, but they reached for each other and found each other, and Alan feels like this is something he's wanted to do for some time now. He just wasn't sure how she'd receive it. ]
I- I just... [ He can't put it into words. He should ask first, maybe, but if he stops any longer, he'll lose his nerve and back out. So he leans in, shifting just a fraction so that he's facing her, and he brushes his lips against hers quickly before immediately pulling back. ]
I'm sorry, I had to do that. Just once. [ And now he waits and braces himself for her to push him away, throw something at him, maybe even shove him towards the Spiral Door. ]
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It's from her. That selfish side that doesn't want to let go of an experience with someone like her. People in the Oldest House understand her life and what it's like living a sort of duality. A normal life where you lie about how the world is because you know it would send people screaming. But, this is special. Unique. How many parautalitarians have met together and not only bonded, but tried not to outdo one another for some crazy power play?
She has an entire agency worth of people who share her kind of life, a best friend in her Head of Research, and a almost father figure in her right hand ranger. Those still aren't anything like this. Someone who has gone through something crazy, lost everything, has powers they can barely explain, and can't see the world the same anymore. Even without her more--she guesses she'd say "romantic" feelings--that bond is like nothing else she has. It's unique, special, theirs.
If Alan is still the kid afraid of the dark, then she's still the kid afraid to trust people.
She nods along with his idea. ] It makes sense. These... forces, they act in something so much bigger than any of us. The Hiss moved from Trench to Dylan and I had to stop him to stop it from spreading further outside of the Oldest House. Whatever is trying to come through with you in the story is basically the same thing, right? The Dark Presence, or your double, whatever it is.
Do you even know what that it is?
[ Maybe he's forgotten or maybe he's never known.
Then, she gives him a gentle smile. ] We'll need to interview you, and get all the information we can on what happened. Know what you're capable of. But, if you're worried I'm going to detain you? I don't plan on it. If you can't change reality when you're not in the Dark Place? There's no reason to. I'm not going to be like Trench and just lock things and people away.
[ « Only as a last resort. Things that will hurt or damage people that NEED to be contained. You can't house everything in the Oldest House and not expect something to go down like the Hiss. » ]
Trench was near obsessed with finding a replacement. No one was there when Northmoore was... retired. He picked up the Service Weapon "almost on a dare", he told me. He never wanted anything to do with power or calling shots. Maybe that's why things fell apart in the end. He took up the mantle, but it was something he did begrudgingly. [ She shakes her head. ] I never talked to him--really. Whatever was left of him reached out to me over the Hotline... but, I haven't heard from him since the Hiss invaded.
[ « Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe, wherever he is, he's finally happy with his daughter. »
She gently squeezes his hand again as he had hers. All the details of what happened in the last AWE were never documented, so she can't ever possibly know what went down between Hartman and Alan. All she knows is what documents they took from Hartman's Lodge. He treated several artists in trying to harness Cauldron Lake, and Alan Wake was one of those he wanted his hands on. He even knew Thomas Zane. So much of it seems interconnected but she doesn't have all the pieces. ]
They were trying to figure out what would get a response out of him. It... [ Jesse sighs in mild frustration over the whole way the Bureau operated. ] They were trying to understand how Shaded individuals work--people possessed by the Dark Presence. Because they'd never encountered one.
[ « I know his Hotline message said his ex-wife was safe, but, I don't want to bring any of it up. It's complicated for him, even without me in the middle of it. How would he even react knowing that they brought Mrs. Wake in to be questioned over seeing her presumed dead husband? It's selfish, I know, but I don't want to go down that path just yet. »
She leans her head against his shoulder to try and give something that seems like support. At least it does in her mind. There's no love for psychiatrists in her mind either, but, it seems like Alan has even worse feelings when it comes to Hartman. Not many people would wish someone would get possessed by an alien force, but, it seems Alan might be in this case.
« Once all of this is over and he's back in our reality? I'll ask about it. We'll need it for our records anyways, but, maybe it'll help to just tell someone. »
Her eyebrows come together and raise as he stumbles over his words. She'd make a joke about how a writer can't put words together if it didn't feel whatever he wanted to get across was important. He shifts, and that small part of her that is still unused to physical contact seems to freeze. The motion is quick and over in a blink of an eye, and all she can wonder is why he pulled away so fast.
It's familiar and she knows they have kissed--maybe more? The details are lost in all the different version of events that she's not sure they'll ever properly remember it. Not if he's changed it again and again, taking parts away every time and replacing them with different ones. But, she knows for sure that they've done this before.
Part of her is still angry he took it away from her. Part of her wonders if the feelings were ever hers or if he implanted the thought in her mind to make the story work. Another side doesn't agree, because it feels like her feelings. She didn't feel this way when he reached out to her on the Hotline four years ago. He didn't know her and she didn't know him. There's no way he could write them just having this bond. She wants to believe it was natural and when he realized that's what it was, he changed it for whatever reason.
Those feelings don't even begin to include the part of her that is tied to Polaris. The part that somehow feels stronger--no, not stronger. Intense? Powerful? She isn't sure the right word for it, but all she knows is that the feeling is almost like a magnet being drawn to him. It wants to be closer to him and be louder, intense, powerful.
It's... complicated. She'd explain it, but...
« He really would leave if I did. »
Jesse slides her hand from his and turns to face him properly. Maybe it seems like she'll push him away. Instead, her hands raise to either side of his face and pulls him back to her. She presses her mouth to his for a real kiss. Not that she's forceful or demanding, but she certainly is trying to communicate she wants whatever it is they keep dancing around about.
Even if he is still wet and she can feel the water in his beard and his hair that touches her face.
That slight detail sticks out to her for some reason. Kissing him before didn't taste like salt water--the ocean. ]
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Did I tell you how Scratch was made? Or at least, how he says he was made. Part of me doesn't want to believe a single thing he says, because it all could be lies, but... I think it's partly my fault that he exists. [ If he hadn't been so chaotic, acting out and just acting crazy in general, maybe there wouldn't have been the crazy stories that led to Scratch's creation.
There are times when Alan can't help but feel that everything that happened from Cauldron Lake to the creation of Scratch to the insanity of the loops is his fault. Oh, the pieces seemingly fell into place for all of it, such as how he was brought to Bright Falls by Alice, and thus fell into Hartman's clutches. But if he hadn't become blocked and unable to write and hadn't begun that downward spiral, Alice wouldn't have had to do what she did.
But Alan halts his musings and thoughts and focuses back on Jesse. ] Well, I just hope that there's enough of me left for you to interview after all this. I mean... [ How does he explain what he's thinking without sounding like he's lost the last vestiges of his sanity? ] The Dark Place finds ways of taking things from you, and you don't even notice that it's doing it. [ That doesn't begin to explain the terror of it all, but he's not trying to shock Jesse or frighten her.
Maybe that will be my fate too: to just become nothing more than a voice and an image over the Hotline. If the Dark Presence manages to drown me entirely, then it could happen. Maybe there was always a chance of that happening. Or- I guess if that happens, I'll become like Barbara Jagger. That's a pleasant thought.
And once again, he forces himself away from his wandering thoughts and back to focusing on Jesse. It's far too easy for his mind to wander away from him. It's probably a side effect of having no one to really talk to for so long. ]
I can understand wanting to study it, to learn more, but... [ Alan's expression shifts to one of extreme disgust, because of all the insanely foolish things they could have done... That had the potential to go horribly wrong. And from what it sounds like, it did. And he had a hand in it too, which doesn't do very much to make him feel better about any of it.
But when he finally manages to crawl over what might as well be a self-made hurdle and actually kiss her, all of his worries and fears and anxieties seem to melt away. The kiss he gave her was brief and far too short, but he felt afraid that she'd despise him for crossing her threshold without so much as asking. But as soon as he does the deed and pulls away, she's reaching back for him, touching his face and pulling him back in. His breath catches in his throat and stays there, as if he's forgotten how to breathe. Then her lips press against his in a real, deep kiss, and everything he's been holding onto for so long just falls away.
He doesn't feel anything but her hands on his face and her lips against his. Not even the feeling of his wet clothes against his skin is enough to distract him from this. He should be apologizing for doing this while still soaked from the rain, as it can't be comfortable for her either, but he couldn't wait. It had to be now. And given her reaction, she wanted it just as much as he did.
For a man who's been drowning under the waves this whole time, he feels as though maybe, just maybe he's finally found his lifeline. ]
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« Maybe this is too unrealistic. Maybe people like us aren't supposed to be this way, and that's why he can't write the ending. That can't be what it is, right? How much more would I need to give up just being the Director? Trench thought it was everything. That a Director's life had to be nothing but the Bureau. Look at where it got him, Northmoor. Even Darling. Their whole lives revolve around the building and the job and... it's destroyed them. I can't help Dylan if I'm like that, and I can't help Alan, or anyone else. I... I never thought about it before this. I never had a reason, or a person, to be with outside what was in the Bureau. But, now, I don't want to let it go. He's like me isn't he? That means it could work--we could find a middle ground between pretending to be normal and having our crazy lives. I... I don't want it to go away like everything else. »
She shakes her head at his question. ] No. No, I don't think you ever did. Just that he's some weird evil doppleganger that seems to enjoy ruining your life. And... bothering the people you know. Maybe he was the one that Hartman really saw.
[ Mr. Scratch. She can't say that many things scare her, but that thing is one of them. Not that she'd ever say it out loud. Jesse looks at that double and doesn't really see Alan. Maybe it's because she knows the two differently as well as she does, or maybe it's because Polaris helps her see the difference. The man looks like the writer, but she can tell they're fundamentally different. One just wears Alan's face, where the other is a real person struggling with the paranatural forces around him. One actually... cares (loves?) about her, and the other despises everything she is. She's not entirely sure why either.
And, honestly, she doesn't really care to know why.
« I guess being murdered by someone over and over again does that to you. »
His statement alone explains the horror in it. Losing a piece of you, bit by bit, without even knowing? How can you ever really know that it's gone in the first place? Her expression falls entirely at his words. Does he simply stop one day and realize something is missing--that he forgot it? A rock seems to fill her chest as the thought crosses her mind that there's no way to make sure he remembers this. She doesn't want to believe it, and that thought is evident on her face, but it's possible.
« We've got to keep that from happening. Somehow. I don't know, but you can't let that happen. You can't let it. Keeping me from Dylan was bad enough--even if it was because Dylan rejected us. Please, don't let it take this away. I don't know if you can even really understand what it means. Our thoughts, feelings, emotions. Maybe it's just as alien to you as you are to me sometimes. But, it's important to me. And, if I'm going to be this for you? You need to do something for me. » ]
We'll find a way to keep you from forgetting. Somehow. [ It's said more as a mission statement and a promise. Even if it comes from a selfish place. ] And, there's plenty the Bureau did before I came along that I hate. Unethical, even. I'm doing my best to change things and make it more... well, humane, but not many people like the idea of having to be less mad scientist about it all.
[ The wet clothes don't bother her per say, it's more that it's a detail that sticks out to her. One that is different from the loops and revisions they've been in. Different clothes, wilder hair, a more scattered look to him. She'd tell him to wake up if she felt that would actually help him outside the story. He is awake ...just.... he's everywhere. Like he goes places in his mind and has to keep reminding himself he's here with her.
Which means it must be a hell of a lot worse in the Dark Place.
She wishes she knew how to be his lifeline--or what he even really needs. "Hero" is a broad term that can mean anything, and it feels like throwing darts at the wall to see if this idea or that idea sticks. But, if Alan has an idea of what he needs, he doesn't want to share it with her. Make her guess, or figure it out on her own, or keep pulling her in then pushing her away.
But, not this time.
This time she's going to pull him with her.
Jesse slowly moves backwards until she can feel the carpet beneath them along her back. This feels right, just as right as being in the Oldest House. Something about it is how the world should be. She's not a romantic person in the sense of literature or words, so she wouldn't use any terms that imply anything like "fate." In her mind, they are two people caught in storms that happen to cross and share a calm eye at the moment. Maybe in that time they can figure out a way to stop the storms howling around them.
Even when they need to break to breathe, she doesn't move away. Her hands slide to try and hold the back of his head and her eyes remain closed. Part of her is afraid if she opens her eyes he might stare at her like she's grown a second head. She can feel the bag at his side against hers. ]
You wrote something out of the story. Didn't you? [ Her tone is barely above a whisper, despite the fact no one else would her it anyways. Her lips brush against his once more, but she doesn't quite kiss him again just yet. ] What about us did you take out?
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I'm sorry, but I just have to ask before I say anything else: why did you go through all this trouble to bring me here? When I first reached out to you with those messages, I didn't know you. You didn't know me. I did a lot without even asking you what you thought, or even if you were willing. [ He shakes his head a little incredulously at the thought of it. ] You could have refused, or just chosen not to answer. We're- Well, we're little better than strangers, when you think about it.
[ She's shared some of her past, at least the parts of it that led her to where she is now. And he was all too willing to let her in, because she's like him in many ways, but also because he hasn't had a great deal of human contact since being trapped in the Dark Place. But it's not just that, is it? He feels drawn to her, and not only because of the loop where they became close.
Can she really care for me? I know what I think about her, and how I feel, but... does she feel the same? ]
I don't know if you would think very much of me if you knew what I did before all of this. It's the reason Scratch exists. I'm sure it won't surprise you if I say I have a reputation. Or, I had a reputation. But either way, people talked about me, because I caused trouble. Acted out. Drank too much. Went to too many parties. [ He shakes his head. He likes to think that he's not that man anymore. If he ever manages to escape, he knows he won't be that man anymore. ] People talked, and gossip spread. They made up stories about me. Somehow, those stories came true- no, they came to life, and they became Scratch.
It's my fault he exists, but he's not me. [ Alan knows he caused problems for a lot of people, but he has to believe that he'd never be as terrible as Scratch is.
A part of him wonders if Jesse will come to hate him once she realizes that he's indirectly responsible for Scratch's existence. He didn't bring him to life, but the wild stories that were told about him formed the basis of the doppelganger. You could even argue that it's my fault Scratch killed her. Repeatedly.
That's a horrific thought he hadn't had before. It's on par with the knowledge that he's losing pieces of himself to the Dark Place. Memories, mostly, but memories and the mind are connected, aren't they? He's afraid of what will happen if the Dark Place takes all of his memories from him. The notes might not be enough if that should happen. ]
How? I can't even stop it. [ He'd rather not admit it, but there's a chance that there is no good ending for him, not when the odds are as stacked against him as they are. If that's the case, if there is no escape for him, then- well. Maybe he can allow himself this moment of selfishness. It isn't just a matter of convenience; he does care for Jesse, and loves her, as crazy as that sounds, since they haven't known each other very long at all.
When she moves backwards, pulling him with her, he doesn't resist. No more brief kisses that barely count as kisses. No, he kisses her as deeply as he can manage, almost hungrily, until they both have to come up for air. He doesn't move away from her either, and his gaze doesn't shift away from her, even though her eyes stay closed. ]
I did. [ The admisson comes slowly, as though he does not wish to say it. ] I had to. I- [ I did it to keep you safe. But you're not safe, because none of us are. I'm not even safe. How do I tell her that what I took out... what I rewrote was us being in love? Falling in love, as completely trite as that sounds. Anyone who's even close to me gets used... gets put in danger. Like Alice. Barry. Rose. I couldn't do that again. I couldn't let Scratch get to her. He might get to her anyway, but I can't- It can't be because I can't control my own feelings. ]
I- I took us out. If I left that in, if I wrote it again, you'd... [ She'd die. Again. They'd all die. ] I couldn't do it.
[ If she wasn't still holding onto him, if they weren't facing each other, he'd put his head into his hands, once again feeling overwhelmed by how powerless he actually is to stop any of this. Just because there must be casualties along the way doesn't mean he finds that easy to write. If he's being honest, it's impossible for him to write it and not immediately hate himself for it. ]
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[ A hard expression comes to her face at the next thing he says. "Little better than strangers."
It hurts.
She has to fight her defensive walls coming up at his words. That part of her that wants to barricade herself away after sharing the event that changed her life forever. He hasn't rejected it, of course, but trying to define them as "strangers" feels like a sort of rejection. It's not, and she knows it's not...
« How could he even say that? I wouldn't--I wouldn't do all of this the way I have for a stranger. I'm not that selfless. We--we're not strangers. Not after all this. I don't--I don't know what he took away from that loop, but I know it keeps echoing in every version. How could that be the case if we're strangers? He says it like we've never met, or talked, or... he's such an asshole sometimes. » ]
Are we strangers? [ Her question is sharp this time, pointed, defensive. ] Because, it doesn't feel like we are. How many times have we met for the first time? Face to face. Introduced ourselves. Talked about Bright Falls, or the FBC, or anything else?
[ « Or does none of that count because it was in his story that changed reality? Well, my perspective is different. I've met him, questioned him, talked with him countless times. » ]
I've seen the news about it. Well, some of it. Whatever I could find online. [ She raises a hand and waves it side to side as if it's hardly a bother. ] There's whole conspiracy sites about what happened to you. Most of them have links to old news stories about the famous author Alan Wake breaking equipment, causing a scene... punching a paparazzi in the face. [ Jesse smirks just a bit. ] Although, I would say he had it coming. He did shove a camera in your eye.
[ None of it really phased her. Celebrities act out and get away with plenty of things. That's not really the person she sees when she looks at him. She sees someone who has been screwed up by paranormal forces and is trying to make sense of it all. Someone who was screwed up before and got drawn into it all. It's similar to her, but, also entirely different. Alan was a grown man when it happened to him... and it probably just fed into all the issues he already has.
He isn't much of a celebrity now. He's someone barely holding on, and that matters more than a couple thousand dollars worth of damage at a night club.
« Though, I wonder how the hell he did that. »
She sighs just a little. ]
You don't need to tell me he's not you. I know that Cauldron Lake can make things become real... and well, I guess it decided to take all the worst stories and ideas about you and make it real. You can't control the public perception or individual ideas about someone--I should be enough proof of that. They tried to control me to keep Ordinary under wraps. [ Jesse looks up at him. ] And, even that all aside? I've met him enough to know he's not you.
[ She hopes its reassuring, but, it probably isn't. ]
I don't know. We'll find a way.
[ Everything about Jesse, in her mind, is controlled in some way--on her terms. She's not very expressive, she's not forward about her thoughts, her body posture can be stiff and uninviting. A lifetime spent being told the way the world was when it really wasn't. She doesn't let people in very far if at all. But, it's different with Alan. She wants to let him in, and even more, wants to let go of the tight control she has over herself. She wants to respond to him with the same hunger that she returns, maybe even more so.
But, she has to know something first.
She listens intently to every word he says. Not that it is surprising. Jesse always had the suspicion that it was them--like this--that was missing. She needed it confirmed. Now, the other question.
Her eyes open to look straight into his. ] Did it only happen because you wrote it? Or... would it happen either way? Us.
[ « Because, I need this to be real. I need to know it's really me feeling this way. Not because he put the idea in the story and put it in my head. Not because he manipulated reality around him to give him someone to... you know what I mean. It needs to be--I want it to be my own. From me. »
Scratch kills her regardless of if they find themselves back together or not. She seems to be a direct opposite for him. An opposing force without even really realizing it. There's some sort of reason for it. He always says he can't st and how she.... vibes.
« Is it because of you, Polaris? Is there something you can do that can stop him and that's why? Like how the Hiss made Hartman stronger. »
Polaris shifts. She'd need to ask Wake. ]
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But Jesse doesn't need to witness him absolutely losing it, so he tries to breathe and calm himself and sort through his thoughts that are trying to spiral away from him. ]
Well... I- [ He wants to say that he doesn't know, but that's not entirely true. ] I don't think that when I change things, it changes everything. Controls everything. It's like seeing something that I think needs to happen, so it ends up happening, but... It doesn't change who a person is and how they think. [ At least, that's his running theory. He isn't playing god; he isn't controlling a person down to their thoughts and feelings. At least, he hopes he isn't. That's not what he wants.
If he's taken away people's autonomy by shifting and altering reality, then maybe he should be locked up as punishment for it all.
He sees the expression on her face, and he has to also fight off the urge to just pull away so he can curl inward on himself, both inwardly and outwardly. ]
I don't mean "strangers" like that, like two people just passing by on a street and not knowing a thing about the other, or even caring to know. I mean... We've shared things, but it's always about this. About Bright Falls. About the FBC. [ About me being insane. ] You shared about your past and where you came from, how you got here, but- [ I haven't told her anything about my past. What there is to tell, anyway. Why would she care about that? But she should know about it, because it explains why I'm like this. The Dark Place just took all that and used it and made it worse. A thousand times worse. ]
You should be running for the hills, not being here trying to help me with this. Even if you don't factor in everything the Dark Presence is doing- I'm screwed up. If you've seen what people have said, if you've read what people have put online, you know. I'm not a good guy.
[ Alice put up with me because we were in love once. What we had, it was good for awhile. I still care about her, and I care about Jesse, but do I really want to saddle her with someone like me? I don't think that I'll be going around punching out paparazzi, but- I'm still that asshole who caused a scene and had a meltdown. I'll probably always have meltdowns, just a different kind. ]
He might not be me, but he's- I think he's my responsibility to deal with somehow. He's out there killing people, hurting them, and making it look like it's me doing it. [ He's taking over my life just like he said he would, and I can't do anything to stop it. ] I can't control people's perception, but I should be able to control him. If I could just figure out how.
[ It occurs to him then that if Jesse and the FBC don't lock him up, then the police might. He wouldn't blame them for it either.
He has to force his thoughts to redirect, to try and stop the spiral of desperation, fear, and self-loathing that's threatening to consume him. She needs an answer, and he needs to give her one. ]
I don't think that I have that much control over events or people. Over you. I think that maybe I wrote that a connection existed, but- what happened, what you did... what I did... that was us deciding. Choosing. [ Even though his memories of it all are disjointed and confusing, he has enough confidence remaining to say that he's certain all he wrote was the two of them talking and getting to know each other. He could still be wrong, as he's equally convinced that he's an unreliable narrator. ]
If what I think matters, if it counts for anything at all, I think that it would have happened either way.
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« That must be why he's been stuck there for thirteen years. He can't get all the pieces in order. That, and, his memory keeps failing him. There has to be something we can do to help that. Some almost full proof way to at least make sure he doesn't forget about this. » ]
So, we're still us. Good. That's comforting. [ She means genuinely means it.
« So, he wants to know more... normal things. Things that aren't about AWEs or the weirdness in the world. There's not much to me other than that. I'm not sure why he'd want to know--maybe to get a sense of the normal world again? »
She shifts slightly. ] I lived in Wyoming before following messages Polaris sent me about New York City--where the Oldest House was. Before that, it was a bit of everywhere. I did a lot of... oddball jobs; including being a janitor. People were always a bit more open minded during night shifts, so, I felt better there.
I get it, Alan. You're an asshole. [ She gives him a look that says he really doesn't need to explain anything else about it. ] I also know what people say and what they post isn't always true. You're not nearly as bad as they said you were or even thought you were.
[ She glances up at him. ] The best way to battle misinformation is to put the truth out there. Maybe write something that can help battle what he does to screw with your name? Unless... you use the fact he's trying to ruin your reputation to your advantage. Make a trap for him with it?
[ Maybe one of those two ideas sounds like a good one.
« What I did? What he did? What was it that we did? Does he remember and he's just afraid to say it and let it happen again? I want it back, and I don't even remember what it was entirely. I want to let him in... but, it's hard to trust like that. Would... would he even want to step through that door if I open it? Maybe he wants away from all this weirdness. Then, he wouldn't... »
She nods. ] Okay.
[ It's a simple answer that seems to encompass all that she thinks about it. If he says he didn't write it that way and it happened naturally? She'll believe what he says. Until something else comes up to change her mind. She hopes it doesn't, as she's desperate to believe it. Desperate is too strong of a word, but, she's not entirely sure what word to use instead.
Jesse kisses him again. The motion is almost timid in a way, almost asking if it's alright that they continue down this path. After all, he has the power to keep it from happening in every version and every loop. Her fingers curl slightly into his damp hair as she slowly deepens the kiss. That feeling of wanting to pull him closer intensifies again. The feeling isn't consuming, in a way, but it is certainly demanding. She isn't even sure if he'd want what they had back--let alone deal with that intense feeling she has. ]
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But it's not- No, that's the wrong thing to say, becase it's very personal. He wrote her in to the story, gave them a connection. Did he give them a connection? The connection must have existed long before they realized it. He just put it into words, and gave them a little nudge. The rest was up to her. And him. But mostly her. He just responded to it; he was drawn to it. Not like a moth to flame, but like a drowning man is drawn to a life preserver.
Maybe that's why the story failed: the pieces didn't fit. Or he rearranged the pieces and that was what broke the formula. It had to be in a certain order; he couldn't jump into the middle and call it a beginning. Or an ending. But how does he fix the broken formula? That seems to be what he's having a hard time figuring out. ]
I can't change people. I can write down actions for them to do, actions that relate to the story. But who they are? It doesn't change. [ He knows that's true, somehow. Maybe it's because he wrote about people like Barry, and well, Barry never does anything but act like himself. Alan almost smiles at the thought of his old friend. Wherever Barry is now, he hopes he's all right. ] I didn't change you. I couldn't.
[ He does his best to halt the near-constant stream of thoughts that is his mind, so that he can listen to Jesse's explanation. It is very normal, at least in the sense of her working. Finding odd jobs. Trying to fit where she could. It makes him relax for some reason. ]
So you weren't always the director. The director. [ Why the knowledge that she was one of the working masses reassures him, he doesn't know. Maybe it's because it's so normal, when all he knows is decidedly abnormal. ] I'm almost jealous. [ But back then, before all of this, all he wanted to do was to be a writer. He had odd jobs too, but he was always scribbling on scraps of paper: jotting down ideas before he forgot them. Sometimes it even got him in trouble. ]
Well, you'd be just one of a handful of people who thinks that. [ Not many people believed that Alan wasn't as bad as the press made him out to be. He didn't have a crowd of people in his corner, but the ones he did have were there for good. Maybe he can count Jesse as one of them. ]
A trap. I could try and trap him. [ Again. He tricked him once, maybe he could pull that off a second time. It's something to think about, for sure.
He opens his mouth to say something, to maybe explain more about what they did before he changed it. But then she's kissing him again and all thoughts fly straight out of his mind. He wants this; needs it, even. When a need for human contact turned into actual, genuine love, he doesn't know. He just knows that it took him by surprise and seized full control when he wasn't even looking. But he doesn't mind surrendering to this. His hands move to hold her, fingers curling against her back, shoulders, wherever they land. He leans into the kiss, almost hungrily deepening it, and he pulls her in closer to him. He wants this; they had this once, before he took it away, and now... now he realizes he wants to give it back to her. Not in a story written on a page, but now., in this very moment. ]
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If you could, would you? [ Her head tilts to the side. ] If it fit the story better.
[ It's best to understand how his powers work. Even if she can't remember in loops, or when it all ends. It may help him now, which will help all of them. If anything, hearing himself explain it may jog something in his memory. Maybe even give him confidence he seems to be lacking. ]
I've only been Director for four years. Trench was the Director for decades. I learned how to seem normal, because it was the only way I could survive. If everyone thought I was normal like them, then I could try to find Dylan and the Bureau. It didn't work.
[ Jesse would like to count herself as one of those people. Maybe she couldn't support him like those he knew before all this. She's not good with people, or relationships. She may not be the kind of support he really needs. She'll try, and if anything, she can be someone he can relate to with the weird world they find themselves in. ]
A handful is more than I had. At least you have that many. [ She leans her head back against him. ] How would you trap him?
[ She wants to know what happened between them in that loop. Even more, she wants to hear it from him. He was the one that took it away, and she wants to know why. If both of them seem to want it so much, why did he take it away from her--from them?
She isn't expecting his reaction, and it's evident in how her back tenses as his fingers curl against it. Still, with acceptance seemingly given, she returns that level of intensity. Her lips move with his in that needy hunger, and she doesn't resist as he pulls her closer.
The wet clothes stick out to her, but more in wondering the best way to slide off the bag and jacket. It would help to some degree--wouldn't it?
Her fingers move from his hair and downwards so her arms can curl around his neck. It's familiar--and not simply because it's something they did once or twice. It's a memory that seems ingrained in her subconscious and no amount of rewrites can ever fully remove it. She seemingly knows how to move in their kiss, how to shift her weight, and where to position her legs to be comfortably around his.
That rumble of intensity flares again, wanting to pull him in and ...resonate with him. Jesse still doesn't understand how or why. Is it Polaris, is it something else? What would happen if she did lower that last wall and let it go?.]
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[ He only has theories and supposition to go on here, but he's also relying on what he knows from previous failed attempts at writing. ] The loops work the same way. If I don't write a conclusion that makes sense, or if I don't write anything at all, it just resets. [ Or, that's what seems to happen, anyway. ]
But it sort of worked, didn't it? You survived. You're still here. [ And he's glad for it, not only for himself, but there is a little selfishness wrapped up in it. ] Not that I'd wish this on anyone, but you'd probably have this whole thing figured out if the roles were reversed. But I don't want the roles being reversed, just to be clear. [ He'd never put anyone like her in this situation. Hartman is another story. Good people like Jesse should never have to contend with something like the Dark Place. ]
It's more than I deserve, honestly. [ But he's grateful to the people who stayed with him, he really is. ] Well, it's like you said: use what he's doing to my advantage. And maybe I could even use the loops too, somehow. [ He has to stop to think about what he did before, in that strange time that was more or less a loop that kept on repeating. How did he outsmart Scratch that time? ] If it was possible to write something that had Scratch and me switch places... but I think he'd have to get close enough and in the right place at the right time in order for it to work.
[ And Scratch only shows up when he wants to show up, or when the loop dictates it to be that way, because that's how he wrote it. He frowns in frustration, because even the process of writing feels like one big loop.
Something like anger rises inside Alan, threatening to distract him from this moment with Jesse. He's been toyed with, screwed around with, and turned around so many times that he shouldn't know which way is up. He's seen people he cares about die too many times, and he hasn't been able to do a thing to stop it. Ultimately, it's why he made the choice to rewrite him and Jesse coming together with nothing between them, to stop them from getting what they both want. He thought it would protect her, save her from Scratch. But in the end, it didn't even make a difference. It seems as though Scratch can take everything from Alan no matter what he does.
Something seems to burn in the corners of Alan's eyes as his frustration rises in spite of himself. He doesn't stop kissing Jesse, but his internal conflict and upset seems to be growing just as rapidly as his passions are. His clothes that are still damp from the rain cling uncomfortably to his skin, making him feel chilled, even though inside, he's burning.
What the hell am I supposed to do? What good is the ability to bend reality if I can't use it to get rid of the one person- the one thing that's standing in the way?
Alan's hands at Jesse's back grasp onto her a little tighter; nothing uncomfortable, but he needs someone to hold onto as his frustration rises. After a brief pause during which Alan comes up for air, he just says one thing: ]
... Jesse?
[ Something is pulling at him, trying to direct him to do something, and he's deciding to follow its lead. ]
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[ « It's why you brought me into the story, isn't it? To help. » ]
I doubt I would be. I'm not a writer or a creator. And, I'm not sure Polaris could help. She could barely get to you in that dimension. I don't know what it is there that blocks her, but it's adamant about it.
[ « Just like when Dylan sensed you. The Hiss snd the Darkness react the same. They hate you and what you are. In our terms anyways. » ]
Well, you'd need to draw him to a place and set it up. Give him a reason to be there. Maybe even make him think he can get what he really wants. [ Mind games. She'd offer herself to be used as bait, since Scratch seems to hate her that much, but she's sure Alan would shut it down. He may have already thought of it once. ] You'd have to make it damn close though, wouldn't you? Almost make it seem like he'd win.
[ Which is probably the last thing he wants to do.
Something in her mind notices he's holding on just a little tighter, and she wonders what's distracting him from this. Or, what it is rumbling beneath the surface. They pause again to breathe and she finds it so damn annoying they have to stop. Her heart is beating a million miles and minute, her breathing hitched and heavy, but it feels like she can't have enough of it. It's almost like she's been given water after being dehydrated for days. Which is why she tilts her head to press her forehead to his and ghost her lips over his.
Now she's finding those wet clothes to be annoying.
That part of her is still clawing at the last wall she has up, as honestly, she's afraid of what might happen if she does just let go. If she gives up that last measurement of control, and she hates not being in control of herself. But, another part wants to do just that. Because she has someone she can trust to not use or abuse it. At least, she wants to believe he wouldn't. He isn't the best man, even in his own words, but he wouldn't take advantage of the control she'd give him.
Or, would he?
He says her name and it snaps her out of that floating feeling. If he has a conflicting set of emotions raging through him? So does she. ]
Hm? [ His tone is serious and it takes everything in her willpower not to kiss him again. Jesse forces her eyes open to look up at him again. ] Sorry, I mean... what is it?
[ « He REALLY needs a towel. And to ditch the bag and coat. » ]
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[ He refuses to accept or believe that that's part of the problem. ] I think I said once that there had to be casualties and victims, but I can't do that. Not anymore. If having connections with people is what's making it so I can't write what I need to, then- that's just how it's going to have to be.
What he wants? He wants me. My life. Everything that I have, or had. [ He thought once about using Jesse as bait, and he immediately squashed that idea and felt disgusted by himself for even considering it. But if he used himself as bait? That's another idea entirely. It's risky, and it has the chance to go horribly wrong, but maybe that's what he needs to do. ]
What if I almost let him catch me? [ It would have to be more than just catching, and I know that, but she'd shoot it down if I spell it out any clearer.
Alan doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to break the contact between himself and Jesse, but they need to breathe sometime, and he thinks he needs to finally tell her something she's wanted to know for- probably a long time. ]
You asked about us. About what I took out of the story. Do you still want to know? [ He doesn't want to talk about it, not because he's afraid of her being angry with him. He deserves her anger. And it's not even that it's not important to him, because it is. In so many ways, it's the most important thing to him, along the lines of finding a way out of the Dark Place. It might even be more important than that, because of its significance. She's the first person other than Alice who's actually loved him. Tried to understand him. Connected with him.
Alice is (was?) his goal all this time: the reason he's worked so hard to try and write the story. But a part of him wonders if Alice hasn't moved on. Oh, she might hold onto the memories of their time together, but it's been years as far as he's been told, and he wouldn't want her to sit around waiting for him forever. But either way, Jesse's become a driving force for him too now, and he can't pretend he doesn't love her too. She deserves the truth, even though he tried to obscure it. Edit it out. He wants to tell her about it now, if she'll listen. ]
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Everything in her tells her to avoid causalities, but, that isn't the reality of their situation. Sending people to die in a horror story, sending people into the breach of a threshold. What's the difference between the two? You know that someone or someones won't come back out. Someone goes home in a body bag. Someone's families get called with condolences. ]
Stories need stakes... otherwise it's not a satisfying ending. [ She shrugs slightly. ] Something like that.
Well, we both know that's not entirely true. There's a person he doesn't want. [ Jesse looks up at him through the red hair that frames her face and dried blood that can still be seen at the roots of her bangs. It's obvious she means herself. ] Which means you have one thing in your pocket he might not expect while you're using yourself as bait.
[ « He won't use me. If he went to these lengths to write out whatever it is we had? I doubt he'd use it to his advantage. Even then... that Darkness can be draining. We'd have to be smart about it. »
A long time would quantify their experiences in loops. There's no true passage of time as it keeps resetting and nothing else seems to be aware of the time lost or gained. The entire world doesn't seem to react to this looping AWE. How could she wonder something for a long time in that regard? It feels like she has, but, reality doesn't line up. Even if reality is easily changed by a certain writer.
Her breath catches in her throat and not because of their rather intimate positioning. He does remember then--maybe even all of it. Something inside her sinks as that familiar feeling of paranoia claws up at her. Her arms tighten around him on reflex. Bracing herself for something, whatever that something might be. She's always been defensive, walled off, distant. It's hard to fight against those habits when they've been apart of her survival mechanisms for so long. ]
Yes.
[ « This is a fucking whirlwind. One that seems to go from one place to another and it doesn't stop. Is this what it's like being involved with someone like this? This... deeply. I don't--I don't want to feel like I can't trust him. I want to trust him. I want to let him in. But, can I, if he's going to do these things without asking? I know he really couldn't until now. But still... » ]
And why you took it away.
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