[ For Alan, everything about this is part of the horror of the Dark Place. Even if the loops happen outside of it, the things that happen inside the loops aren't any less terrifying. He only had to live through feeling Scratch carving him out, taking over his mind, taking over everything that made him him. He had to see Saga's gun pointed at him and then firing, the bullet seeming to travel towards him in slow motion. He won't be telling Jesse how it felt to have the bullet strike his head, or how there was nothing but numbness and the feeling of falling after it hit.
She had to see all of this happen. She had to see him fall to the shore, dead. He doesn't need to see the look in her eyes to know that it's affected her. Maybe even scarred her.
We're all victims in this horror story. But I never wanted her to have to go through that. She's already been through so much, what with what happened in Ordinary, and to her brother.
Alan's angry, but he's also tired. Haunted. Tired of being haunted by the voices that shout his name at times or whisper it at other times. Tired of making mistake after mistake and getting very little right, if anything at all. It was a mistake to call out to her, to bring her this close to the Dark Place. Having his needs met is far from worth the risk this place presents to her.
He's already entertained the thought of standing up, placing his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to move back to the door and go through it. She'd go through while he'd stay here. He can't follow her there. He wrote himself out of reality in order to stop the Dark Presence. Returning to reality now would be a wrong move. The wrongest of moves. He has to be here to fix the story.
They're kissing, and he has to be present while they kiss, or she's essentially kissing someone mindless. Carved out. Absent. He can stop the flow of thoughts when he's kissing her or touching her. She deserves his full attention. She doesn't deserve someone whose mind is elsewhere.
His forehead presses against hers again, pressing deeper as if the pressure on his head will help keep him on solid ground. Not standing in water with waves splashing around him. On solid ground. Standing with her. ]
You don't know. You haven't seen. The Dark Place isn't just this room. This room might even be in my head. [ That would mean she's in my head too. That's not a thought I can make sense of. ] Caldera Street Station. The Plaza. The Studio. All crawling with Taken.
I'm not in a hole. [ Figuratively, yes, he is in a hole. Digging himself deeper, making the hole bigger until he's trapped in it. No way out. There's no way out. ] There's the train station. Door's studio. It's a city. New York City, according to the Dark Presence. [ Or according to me? It got the idea from somewhere. ]
You haven't seen. [ He repeats those words even as he hungrily, thirstily drinks in her kiss. He's not drifting; he's present. He's just trying to paint a picture with his words that communicates to her just how vast the Dark Place is. And those are just the parts that he's seen. ]
Do you run away like a rabbit and hope the monster doesn't chase you? It always chases you, and you can't escape if you don't think. [ Follow the white rabbit. No, stay present. Don't leave her alone here.
He's kissing her in return, all hunger and need and desperation, but there's love too in his gaze. He isn't using her; he wouldn't ever stoop that low. He's doing this, having this moment with her because he loves her, and nothing the Dark Place throws in his path will stop him, not if he has anything to say about it. Don't you fucking forget this.
But even with all of that, he just has one thing he needs to know. ]
Jesse, who am I? [ What am I? What the hell am I? Alan hasn't noticed it yet, but the lamp on the desk and the flashlight beside it have both begun to grow brighter in the relative darkness of this writer's room. ]
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She had to see all of this happen. She had to see him fall to the shore, dead. He doesn't need to see the look in her eyes to know that it's affected her. Maybe even scarred her.
We're all victims in this horror story. But I never wanted her to have to go through that. She's already been through so much, what with what happened in Ordinary, and to her brother.
Alan's angry, but he's also tired. Haunted. Tired of being haunted by the voices that shout his name at times or whisper it at other times. Tired of making mistake after mistake and getting very little right, if anything at all. It was a mistake to call out to her, to bring her this close to the Dark Place. Having his needs met is far from worth the risk this place presents to her.
He's already entertained the thought of standing up, placing his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to move back to the door and go through it. She'd go through while he'd stay here. He can't follow her there. He wrote himself out of reality in order to stop the Dark Presence. Returning to reality now would be a wrong move. The wrongest of moves. He has to be here to fix the story.
They're kissing, and he has to be present while they kiss, or she's essentially kissing someone mindless. Carved out. Absent. He can stop the flow of thoughts when he's kissing her or touching her. She deserves his full attention. She doesn't deserve someone whose mind is elsewhere.
His forehead presses against hers again, pressing deeper as if the pressure on his head will help keep him on solid ground. Not standing in water with waves splashing around him. On solid ground. Standing with her. ]
You don't know. You haven't seen. The Dark Place isn't just this room. This room might even be in my head. [ That would mean she's in my head too. That's not a thought I can make sense of. ] Caldera Street Station. The Plaza. The Studio. All crawling with Taken.
I'm not in a hole. [ Figuratively, yes, he is in a hole. Digging himself deeper, making the hole bigger until he's trapped in it. No way out. There's no way out. ] There's the train station. Door's studio. It's a city. New York City, according to the Dark Presence. [ Or according to me? It got the idea from somewhere. ]
You haven't seen. [ He repeats those words even as he hungrily, thirstily drinks in her kiss. He's not drifting; he's present. He's just trying to paint a picture with his words that communicates to her just how vast the Dark Place is. And those are just the parts that he's seen. ]
Do you run away like a rabbit and hope the monster doesn't chase you? It always chases you, and you can't escape if you don't think. [ Follow the white rabbit. No, stay present. Don't leave her alone here.
He's kissing her in return, all hunger and need and desperation, but there's love too in his gaze. He isn't using her; he wouldn't ever stoop that low. He's doing this, having this moment with her because he loves her, and nothing the Dark Place throws in his path will stop him, not if he has anything to say about it. Don't you fucking forget this.
But even with all of that, he just has one thing he needs to know. ]
Jesse, who am I? [ What am I? What the hell am I? Alan hasn't noticed it yet, but the lamp on the desk and the flashlight beside it have both begun to grow brighter in the relative darkness of this writer's room. ]