[ This is another one of those paradoxical moments. Alan can feel it. He can feel the push and pull inside his mind, inside him. Part of him is reeling, spinning out, nearly being pulled under by the waves. Another part of him is awake. Present. Trying to be strong. Why? Because that's what she needs him to be. He can't go to pieces when it's obvious to him that she needs him. ]
Someone who's an asshole. Maybe an even bigger asshole than me. I believe you. I believe that what happened in Ordinary really did happen. Industrial accident. That was no industrial accident, not from the way you told it. You don't need an institution. You didn't need one. They never should have put you in there.
[ She's moving again, hands uncurling from his shoulders and traveling down his arms. The gesture feels familiar. She's done it before. He likes how it feels when her hands are on him. It reminds him that he's real. He's not a fictional character. He's a person who can feel it when someone's hand is resting on his arm. He holds still, not wanting to move too suddenly and accidentally jostle her.
She can stay in that position for as long as he needs. Stiff legs are worth it, if leaning on him is what she needs.
He quiets, listening to her explain how it feels to be the only one who sees the truth of it all. The reality of the world. And then it hits him: what she's been asking for this entire time. Well, asking without really asking. She's been asking him to stay with her, to not leave her behind to face the world as she knows it alone. And how has he responded? By going to pieces, letting the waves drag him away. Falling apart. Spinning out. Being a vacant, carved out copy of himself. Not a copy of a copy of a copy. Just... a copy. Not Alan Wake.
That stops now.
The defiant thought rises to the surface and Alan latches onto it. It might be impossible, because the Dark Presence is always trying to pull him away. But in the moments that he's awake, he's resolved to not be a copy. He's resolved to be himself. ]
You won't be lonely again. Not while I'm here. [ I can't stop fighting. THIS is more important than literally anything else. I have to come home, because she needs me to. ] And I'll be here. I'll keep trying to come home. If I have to search all over the Dark Place for the Light Switch Cord, I'll do it. I'll keep coming back. [ Until she's sick of me. But she won't be sick of me, will she? ] I can be really annoying, you know that?
[ And that's what I'm counting on here. I know it's crazy, but we've already established that I'm crazy. ]
You won't be alone. I won't let you be alone. [ She won't let him drown forever. He won't let her be alone forever. It works out somehow, doesn't it?
It's only then that he finally turns around to face her. He moves slowly, because he can feel how she has her face pressed into his back, into the fabric of his jacket. It's only once he's fully turned around that he sees she's crying. His reaction is instantaneous. He reaches out for her, pulling her into a hug and holding her close. One hand comes to rest on her hair, giving it what he hopes are comforting strokes. The other hand gently touches her face, his fingers carefully trying to dry her tears. ]
I won't disappear. I promise, I won't disappear. [ I'll come to her apartment. I'll send her messages. I'll be HERE. ]
I won't let you be alone, Jesse. [ He's gotten the answer he needed from her, and now there's only one answer that he can give her in return: a stated promise. A vow that he won't let her be alone anymore. ]
no subject
Someone who's an asshole. Maybe an even bigger asshole than me. I believe you. I believe that what happened in Ordinary really did happen. Industrial accident. That was no industrial accident, not from the way you told it. You don't need an institution. You didn't need one. They never should have put you in there.
[ She's moving again, hands uncurling from his shoulders and traveling down his arms. The gesture feels familiar. She's done it before. He likes how it feels when her hands are on him. It reminds him that he's real. He's not a fictional character. He's a person who can feel it when someone's hand is resting on his arm. He holds still, not wanting to move too suddenly and accidentally jostle her.
She can stay in that position for as long as he needs. Stiff legs are worth it, if leaning on him is what she needs.
He quiets, listening to her explain how it feels to be the only one who sees the truth of it all. The reality of the world. And then it hits him: what she's been asking for this entire time. Well, asking without really asking. She's been asking him to stay with her, to not leave her behind to face the world as she knows it alone. And how has he responded? By going to pieces, letting the waves drag him away. Falling apart. Spinning out. Being a vacant, carved out copy of himself. Not a copy of a copy of a copy. Just... a copy. Not Alan Wake.
That stops now.
The defiant thought rises to the surface and Alan latches onto it. It might be impossible, because the Dark Presence is always trying to pull him away. But in the moments that he's awake, he's resolved to not be a copy. He's resolved to be himself. ]
You won't be lonely again. Not while I'm here. [ I can't stop fighting. THIS is more important than literally anything else. I have to come home, because she needs me to. ] And I'll be here. I'll keep trying to come home. If I have to search all over the Dark Place for the Light Switch Cord, I'll do it. I'll keep coming back. [ Until she's sick of me. But she won't be sick of me, will she? ] I can be really annoying, you know that?
[ And that's what I'm counting on here. I know it's crazy, but we've already established that I'm crazy. ]
You won't be alone. I won't let you be alone. [ She won't let him drown forever. He won't let her be alone forever. It works out somehow, doesn't it?
It's only then that he finally turns around to face her. He moves slowly, because he can feel how she has her face pressed into his back, into the fabric of his jacket. It's only once he's fully turned around that he sees she's crying. His reaction is instantaneous. He reaches out for her, pulling her into a hug and holding her close. One hand comes to rest on her hair, giving it what he hopes are comforting strokes. The other hand gently touches her face, his fingers carefully trying to dry her tears. ]
I won't disappear. I promise, I won't disappear. [ I'll come to her apartment. I'll send her messages. I'll be HERE. ]
I won't let you be alone, Jesse. [ He's gotten the answer he needed from her, and now there's only one answer that he can give her in return: a stated promise. A vow that he won't let her be alone anymore. ]