[ A frustrated groan escapes Alan, the sound echoing in the room. His frame stiffens and more words escape him as his hands clench into fists against her back. ]
Why am I like this? Why can't I wake up? I know who I am, I'm not a character. I'm- I'm Alan Wake. Stop telling me I'm a character. I've lived, I had a life- a screwed up mess of a life but it was a life. You can't just rip that away from me.
[ Desperation sounds in his voice along with the fear that's clinging to him. It might be the fear speaking, but Alan senses a shift. Could Jesse be pulling away even as she stands there with him? If she is, he knows it's his fault. He's given her nothing to go on, nothing to work with, time after time after time. How long until she goes away for good? ]
Don't go. Don't leave. [ I need you. I know I'm the worst at showing it, but I- Please. ] I'm sorry.
[ I'm so tired. I'm tired of fighting. Please, just let me have this. She can help, if I just let her. Just let me let go.
He knows he's begging himself to let go so that Jesse can help, and he knows how irrational that is, but it's something he can't help. ]
... just let me have this. I'm tired, and I just want to sleep. No, I want to wake up. I want to be here, not drifting, not drowning. Here. Home. I want to go home.
[ Alan is looking at her, but not like she's grown a second head. He's desperate again, desperate enough to beg the Dark Presence to let him go. It never listens. His words travel into the silence and vanish. ]
I'll never go home, will I? There are... there are some things, some immutable facts of living that can't be changed. That's one of them now. Alan Wake will never go home.
[ As he says those words, his tone shifts. It sounds harder. Flatter. His voice deepens just a fraction. It's almost as though he's reciting rather than speaking conversationally.
He groans again, louder this time. The sound seems to come from deep inside him and for a moment, he goes slack, all of his strength leaving him in a rush only to be restored a minute later. ]
No, that can't be true. I'll come home someday.... I'll- I'll come back.
[ He pauses long enough to note how Jesse takes hold of his hands, holding them tightly in hers. Then she starts to lead him to where the radio sits. Why?
She guides him to stand in front of her, and then to sit down while she sits down behind him. He feels her hands slide back into place, resting against his shoulders, and he lets out a shaky breath. Polaris brushes at his mind in the gentle way that she does, but even with that gentle touch, he jumps because he wasn't expecting it. ]
Polaris?
[ The radio clicks on, and Alan finds himself stiffening in spite of himself. What will he hear through the radio this time?
This time, it's different. It's not a radio show, it's... well, he doesn't know what it is at first. But he does know the voice. He knows the person the voice belongs to. His head turns slightly to look at the woman sitting behind him. What is this?
At first, Alan just listens to the Jesse in the message talking. But then another voice interjects, and that voice causes Alan to tense up even further. He hopes that he's wrong, that he's way off base and that his suppositions are wrong too. But that voice isn't any voice. It's familiar, in the worst way.
The questions and answers continue, and Alan's feeling of dread only seems to grow. The wording used and the phrasing is different from what Alan's experienced, but it's not that different either. Certain things are the same. The tone that tries to be unobtrusive but doesn't quite manage it. The probing nature of the questions. The statements that are supposed to develop rapport but somehow fall short. He knows this.
Right now, it's very important that you stay calm. We don't want you to have another episode. You're a patient at my clinic, have been for awhile now. The shock of your wife's death triggered a mental illness.
Hartman's voice echoes again in Alan's mind, and his reaction is just as immediate now as it was back then. ]
No, you- you're lying.
[ The words aren't said to Jesse or to Polaris, but to the image of Hartman in his head. Oh yes, he knows what's going on now. The static from the radio pulls Alan out of his memories and back to the writer's room where Jesse sits with him.
He feels Jesse's hands curling against his shoulders, and he turns to look behind him as best as he can. He thinks he knows that look. It's not a good one, not one he likes seeing on her face. So maybe he doesn't love all the faces that she's shown him. ]
Jesse? [ He shifts just a fraction, not enough to dislodge her hold on him, but enough that he can see her. ] What- Why are these messages playing? [ What is Polaris doing? ] If you don't want to hear them, you shouldn't have to.
[ Because he thinks that look on her face is the look of someone who wishes they were anywhere but here. It's the look of someone who wants to run from the room. To plug their ears. To block out the voice that's not associated with anything good. ]
no subject
Why am I like this? Why can't I wake up? I know who I am, I'm not a character. I'm- I'm Alan Wake. Stop telling me I'm a character. I've lived, I had a life- a screwed up mess of a life but it was a life. You can't just rip that away from me.
[ Desperation sounds in his voice along with the fear that's clinging to him. It might be the fear speaking, but Alan senses a shift. Could Jesse be pulling away even as she stands there with him? If she is, he knows it's his fault. He's given her nothing to go on, nothing to work with, time after time after time. How long until she goes away for good? ]
Don't go. Don't leave. [ I need you. I know I'm the worst at showing it, but I- Please. ] I'm sorry.
[ I'm so tired. I'm tired of fighting. Please, just let me have this. She can help, if I just let her. Just let me let go.
He knows he's begging himself to let go so that Jesse can help, and he knows how irrational that is, but it's something he can't help. ]
... just let me have this. I'm tired, and I just want to sleep. No, I want to wake up. I want to be here, not drifting, not drowning. Here. Home. I want to go home.
[ Alan is looking at her, but not like she's grown a second head. He's desperate again, desperate enough to beg the Dark Presence to let him go. It never listens. His words travel into the silence and vanish. ]
I'll never go home, will I? There are... there are some things, some immutable facts of living that can't be changed. That's one of them now. Alan Wake will never go home.
[ As he says those words, his tone shifts. It sounds harder. Flatter. His voice deepens just a fraction. It's almost as though he's reciting rather than speaking conversationally.
He groans again, louder this time. The sound seems to come from deep inside him and for a moment, he goes slack, all of his strength leaving him in a rush only to be restored a minute later. ]
No, that can't be true. I'll come home someday.... I'll- I'll come back.
[ He pauses long enough to note how Jesse takes hold of his hands, holding them tightly in hers. Then she starts to lead him to where the radio sits. Why?
She guides him to stand in front of her, and then to sit down while she sits down behind him. He feels her hands slide back into place, resting against his shoulders, and he lets out a shaky breath. Polaris brushes at his mind in the gentle way that she does, but even with that gentle touch, he jumps because he wasn't expecting it. ]
Polaris?
[ The radio clicks on, and Alan finds himself stiffening in spite of himself. What will he hear through the radio this time?
This time, it's different. It's not a radio show, it's... well, he doesn't know what it is at first. But he does know the voice. He knows the person the voice belongs to. His head turns slightly to look at the woman sitting behind him. What is this?
At first, Alan just listens to the Jesse in the message talking. But then another voice interjects, and that voice causes Alan to tense up even further. He hopes that he's wrong, that he's way off base and that his suppositions are wrong too. But that voice isn't any voice. It's familiar, in the worst way.
The questions and answers continue, and Alan's feeling of dread only seems to grow. The wording used and the phrasing is different from what Alan's experienced, but it's not that different either. Certain things are the same. The tone that tries to be unobtrusive but doesn't quite manage it. The probing nature of the questions. The statements that are supposed to develop rapport but somehow fall short. He knows this.
Right now, it's very important that you stay calm. We don't want you to have another episode. You're a patient at my clinic, have been for awhile now. The shock of your wife's death triggered a mental illness.
Hartman's voice echoes again in Alan's mind, and his reaction is just as immediate now as it was back then. ]
No, you- you're lying.
[ The words aren't said to Jesse or to Polaris, but to the image of Hartman in his head. Oh yes, he knows what's going on now. The static from the radio pulls Alan out of his memories and back to the writer's room where Jesse sits with him.
He feels Jesse's hands curling against his shoulders, and he turns to look behind him as best as he can. He thinks he knows that look. It's not a good one, not one he likes seeing on her face. So maybe he doesn't love all the faces that she's shown him. ]
Jesse? [ He shifts just a fraction, not enough to dislodge her hold on him, but enough that he can see her. ] What- Why are these messages playing? [ What is Polaris doing? ] If you don't want to hear them, you shouldn't have to.
[ Because he thinks that look on her face is the look of someone who wishes they were anywhere but here. It's the look of someone who wants to run from the room. To plug their ears. To block out the voice that's not associated with anything good. ]