[ Alan is the last person who would call himself any of those things. Reliable? Never. Dependable? When it's convenient. Now that the Dark Presence has its claws in him, he's even less of anything that could be considered useful or helpful. He's an unreliable narrator. An even more unreliable writer at times. A friend? Absolutely not. He doesn't even know where Barry is, and he was Alan's best friend. He tried to save Alice, and he has that going for him, but what else?
He would be the first to disagree with Jesse, as he's convinced now more than ever that he's as far from heroic as it's possible to be. But if he can do his part to keep the Dark Presence out of their reality, then maybe... maybe he can begin to think of himself as something other than an asshole.
It doesn't reassure him that Jesse knows what it's like, to be locked in a fight with something that can't... should not escape. Well, it does and it doesn't. He doesn't want her to face the Dark Presence. He didn't want her to, but it happened anyway. I can't let the Dark Presence get close to her. Not again. I won't let her be taken by it. I don't care what I have to do. It can't get to her. Or Steve. Or even Estevez, and I don't think she cares that much about me. Why should she, anyway? But I won't let it touch Jesse.
None of these people here deserve to know what horrors the Dark Presence is capable of. Oh, Steve's explanation told Alan that they know what lies out there in the dark and the shadows. They know there are menacing, evil entities that exist. But he thinks they don't have the whole picture; they don't know everything about the real horror. And they shouldn't ever have to find out. They shouldn't have to be forced into the kind of hell that the Dark Presence can create.
He doesn't say anything until Jesse's hands curl over his, her grip like a vise as though she doesn't intend to let go until she's gotten whatever it she wants to say across to him. His eyes are locked on hers too, waiting, watching, wondering what's on her mind. There are times when he can read her, read the way she moves, and guess what she's thinking, but this is not one of those times.
Hungry, monstrous things out there plotting to stop me. To devour me. Become me. No, they can't. Not this time. Not when she's counting on me. Can she count on me? Can I count on myself?
Jesse's tone brings him back to the present. He wasn't drifting, although it might have looked that way. He was processing. Thinking. Trying to decide if he could do this. If he could keep it together just long enough to help Jesse and her people in this fight.
Yes. Yes, I can do this. This one thing. I'll do it. I'll- I'll wake up. I wake up when I'm fighting. It's strange. Maybe backwards. You'd think I would shut down. But I won't. I can't.
Jesse's forehead presses against his, and he straightens up. Squares his shoulders as if bracing himself for a fight. "Alan, are you awake?" ]
I'm awake. I'm here. [ There's no hesitation in his voice because there can't be. It's as it's always been when danger is looming. Something stirs inside Alan, something he can't name or quantify.
When I'm fighting for my life, I find myself slipping into a state of intense concentration that makes the beam of my flashlight seem more powerful and focused.
He said those words once, or wrote them down once. Exactly when, he doesn't remember. He just knows that he did. And they apply to this situation now more than ever. Concentration. Focus. Awareness of what's at stake. These are things he can't afford to forget. ]
I'm awake. Jesse, I'm awake.
[ Just how many times has she had to wake me up? ]
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He would be the first to disagree with Jesse, as he's convinced now more than ever that he's as far from heroic as it's possible to be. But if he can do his part to keep the Dark Presence out of their reality, then maybe... maybe he can begin to think of himself as something other than an asshole.
It doesn't reassure him that Jesse knows what it's like, to be locked in a fight with something that can't... should not escape. Well, it does and it doesn't. He doesn't want her to face the Dark Presence. He didn't want her to, but it happened anyway. I can't let the Dark Presence get close to her. Not again. I won't let her be taken by it. I don't care what I have to do. It can't get to her. Or Steve. Or even Estevez, and I don't think she cares that much about me. Why should she, anyway? But I won't let it touch Jesse.
None of these people here deserve to know what horrors the Dark Presence is capable of. Oh, Steve's explanation told Alan that they know what lies out there in the dark and the shadows. They know there are menacing, evil entities that exist. But he thinks they don't have the whole picture; they don't know everything about the real horror. And they shouldn't ever have to find out. They shouldn't have to be forced into the kind of hell that the Dark Presence can create.
He doesn't say anything until Jesse's hands curl over his, her grip like a vise as though she doesn't intend to let go until she's gotten whatever it she wants to say across to him. His eyes are locked on hers too, waiting, watching, wondering what's on her mind. There are times when he can read her, read the way she moves, and guess what she's thinking, but this is not one of those times.
Hungry, monstrous things out there plotting to stop me. To devour me. Become me. No, they can't. Not this time. Not when she's counting on me. Can she count on me? Can I count on myself?
Jesse's tone brings him back to the present. He wasn't drifting, although it might have looked that way. He was processing. Thinking. Trying to decide if he could do this. If he could keep it together just long enough to help Jesse and her people in this fight.
Yes. Yes, I can do this. This one thing. I'll do it. I'll- I'll wake up. I wake up when I'm fighting. It's strange. Maybe backwards. You'd think I would shut down. But I won't. I can't.
Jesse's forehead presses against his, and he straightens up. Squares his shoulders as if bracing himself for a fight. "Alan, are you awake?" ]
I'm awake. I'm here. [ There's no hesitation in his voice because there can't be. It's as it's always been when danger is looming. Something stirs inside Alan, something he can't name or quantify.
When I'm fighting for my life, I find myself slipping into a state of intense concentration that makes the beam of my flashlight seem more powerful and focused.
He said those words once, or wrote them down once. Exactly when, he doesn't remember. He just knows that he did. And they apply to this situation now more than ever. Concentration. Focus. Awareness of what's at stake. These are things he can't afford to forget. ]
I'm awake. Jesse, I'm awake.
[ Just how many times has she had to wake me up? ]