oceanview || ❝ i must guide my love through the night. ❞

[outlierdirector]

OCEANVIEW II

into the dark, dark, dark.

I’m fighting to save my love somеhow
I cannot feel her by my side
Even in this placе inside my mind CODE BY TESSISAMESS

Comments

꩜ — initiation.

[outlierdirector]

🔦 late night redux.

[crazywall]

[ Tim Breaker isn't he sort of person to be entirely illogical. The universe has a way of working--patterns. He just doesn't know them. At least, not yet. Not well. UFOs, ghosts, the weirdness that always happens around Cauldron Lake? It all meant something.

Even more now that he's apparently stuck in some sort of nightmare... world? There's got to be a way out. Door has been able to get out and in. The manuscript page he has says so. Why he can't make it work is something else.

"Unwilling disciple."

If that's him? Then, well, the page is pretty accurate in describing how he feels about it.

He's always wondered what his dreams meant. Always wanted some kind of answer. That doesn't mean he wanted to be dragged into some crazy damn horror nightmare world by some guy that haunts his dreams. He didn't ask for any of this. Then again, he has to wonder, if any of them asked for any of it.

Especially Alan Wake.

Shit, who would of thought the famous writer who disappeared ended up here? Maybe all those rumors and ghost stories about the lake were real. Maybe that witch who had her heart cutout is real.

Not that he wants to go running into her here.

Tim looks over the manuscript page one more time before folding it back into the inner pocket of his coat. He's followed the steps and just can't get it to work like Door has. Something's missing--maybe even something from him. He'd ask the man who wrote the page, but, it always seems like Alan has enough on his plate.

Back to work on the other project he's given himself. Not like there's much else to do here.

He starts humming a new tune. Not new, but, something different from the Night Springs theme song at least. He squats down in front of the TV he's managed to find and drag into the room inside the Oceanview Hotel. The only thing he really seemed to make any sense of answers from was that weird science show--"Dr. Darling the Science Man." At least it seemed like it had something on it that was useful. Maybe if he can find the right channel he can tap into whatever the hell it is.

His whiteboard is filled out, reordered, things drawn a bit better to certain elements. It makes sense to him at least and that's the part that really matters.

Tim pauses long enough to listen to the shuffling of shadows outside. He glances over his shoulders, checking both the doors he's holed up in. 209. Same room as before. Why change if it worked? Besides, it gives Alan a better chance to find him--if he needs to. Once the shuffling shadows pass he goes back to trying to tune the TV as needed.

It's been years since he's seen a TV like this. Why is the tech in the nightmare New York so old? ]

[crazyisinevitable]

[ If Alan didn't know better, he'd say that it felt as though he was on a track that always led to the same things, the same places, the same events. Except sometimes the track gets messed up and things happen in a different order. But it's always the same. He forgets things that have happened before, so it doesn't make sense how he knows he's on a track. Well, he wouldn't, if not for the likes of a person he keeps running into at seemingly random moments. At first, he couldn't even call him a friendly face because he didn't remember his face.

But the more he looped on himself, the more he began to remember. It was strange. It is strange. Everything here is strange. Hell, Tim Breaker being here at all is strange, as is the fact that Alan keeps finding him.

He's glad to see him, and glad when he remembers him, but a part of Alan is wary too: wary of growing too attached to the friendly face and light banter that Tim provides. What if one of these times, Tim disappears, leaving the Dark Place and Alan behind? What then? Is he just going to continue on his way but always stopping and listening for the familiar sound of humming, not realizing that he might never hear it again?

Is it better to not develop attachments at all, in the event of that inevitable goodbye? More than likely, there won't even be a goodbye, just an empty room where someone once stood.

But as luck would have it, that hasn't happened yet, and as Alan turns a corner and is greeted by the sight of the Oceanview Hotel, a feeling of deja vu settles in. Still, even if he's done this a dozen times or more, he doesn't hesitate in walking up to the doors of the hotel and stepping inside. He takes a few turns down the various hallways, and that's when he hears it. Humming. It's a different song this time, but it's one that Alan knows. He's heard it before. Not being hummed, but... somehow. Over a loudspeaker? On a television? It's familiar.

Either way, the humming means something, and Alan just needs to follow it. There's an open door just a short distance away, and Alan heads towards it, stepping inside when he finally gets there.

Ah, yes, he remembers this scene. Whiteboard. Man in a collared shirt and tie. Gun at his hip. Good old Sheriff Breaker. One of the few constants around here. ]

So, how's the crazy wall today?

[crazywall]

[ The humming cuts off the moment Alan speaks. Tim half turns and offers a smile at his friend. Well, he considers Alan a friend anyways. Better to think him a friend than some weird double--right? Yeah. That sounds good. ]

Alan, hey. [ Tim stands up fully and looks over at the board. ] Oh, you know. Crazy but not crazier. In fact, it's ... organized? Organized crazy. Hey, is that a thing here? You just start putting the crazy in ordered boxes?

...something like that. [ He laughs at himself. ] Anyways, feel free to check it out.

Hey, by the way. How are you doing? Holding up okay? [ Alan doesn't look like a drowned ... nah, better to say he isn't soaking wet. Normal looking. Well, normal for Alan anyways. Put together? And, not asking who he is, so the memory must be doing well for him. ] It feels like the... residents? They're more agitated today. "Today."

[ He turns to the side so Alan can investigate all he'd like. He turns the dial OK the television a few more times and sighs. Nothing seems to work like it should here. Alan probably already knows about that, so no point in venting about it. Especially if Alan has been having it rough.

The whiteboard is more organized. Warlin Door's photo is still front and center, but subjects are fit together:

WARIN DOOR:
- WHO? WHERE? MOTIVE? WHY ME? [NIGHT SPRINGS?]
- Door went missing in 1988. Age? Has not aged? Longevity? Alien? Magic? Uncle Frank would have known more, but he is dead. Not his real name? Hidden meaning?
- Is Door the gatekeeper? Or trying to get somewhere? Everywhere?
- Door. Gate. Portal. Port. Opening. Access. Window.

FACTS:
- Missing time
- No memory--->UNTIL NOW!
Have I always ended up here? Will I forget when I get out? [MASTER OF MANY WORLDS]
- Abudtced?
- ME, but not me
- DREAMS: Aliens?>>Door UFOs?>>Polyhedron
- REMEMBER, I was at the morgue about to give EVIDENCE to THE FBI
- DOOR transported me here to this dream-reality.
- WHY?

THE RED HEADED WOMAN
- Others I know, yet are different?
- Connected to Door?
- I know her. Where do I know her from?
- Her identity changes?
- Connected to polyhedrons? She will come for me?

UFOS >> POLYHEDRONS
- I see them in my dreams.
- Geometry
- Pure mathematical
- Shapes contain energy
- A vessel? A weapon? An object of great power?
- Or are you crazy and dream of RPG dice?
- [ SHAPES TO MAP AND CODIFY PARALLEL REALITIES? ALSO, DOUBLE TRIANGLES? ]

WHAT IS THIS PLACE?
- A dream -- feels like it
- Not real -- no place, every place, all places? Any place?
- Now New York, not NYC
- A way to other places? A nexus?

DREAMS OF DIFFERENT WORLDS?
- Parallel universes? Multiverse?
We are connected because of something that happened to us somewhere else.
Shock waves echo across worlds? If I die will I wake up as another version of me?
Is he killing versions of me?

[ Tim returns to humming the new tune and checking the back of the television. ]

[crazyisinevitable]

[ In all honesty, Alan labeled Tim a friend after their first couple of meetings. Because, as he saw it, anyone who could roll with the punches of someone forgetting who they were and having no memory at all of ever meeting them before was a solid ally. Tim could have jerked him around, taken advantage of his memory loss, but instead, he tried to help him. He's been trying to help him this whole time. Yeah. That makes him a friend in Alan's book.

He glances at the whiteboard, taking in everything written on it, and he nods. ] Yeah, I see what you mean. It is organized. So does that mean you've had a breakthrough?

[ He wonders, not for the first time, how Tim's doing so well down here. Well, this place's version of "well". ]

I think I'm hanging in there. I remembered you this time, so that has to be a good sign. [ He scans the board again before turning back to Tim. The board is interesting, but talking to his friend is more important. ] So, you noticed that too, huh? Wonder what's setting them off.

[ It's never a good time trying to navigate around those residents. ]

Having TV problems? You should probably get a man in. [ That was funnier in his head, and one of them has probably made that joke before, but he just ran with it before glancing back at the board and the various things written there, going down them all one at a time. It's not until Alan notices the category THE RED HEADED WOMAN. ]

Hey, Tim? [ He's staring at the board, and that category in particular as he asks: ] Who's that? And no, I'm not asking with ulterior motives in mind. Just to clear that up.

[crazywall]

A breakthrough? No. No, I don't think so. Just... tried to get it all in a way I can objectively look at it. Writers do the same thing at some point, right? Editing and all that.

[ He gives a small shrug. ] I'm always prepared in case your memory slips. Which, I get it, man. With the way this place loops on itself? It's enough to make anyone second guess their memory. Which is why I thought ordering the board would be better. Good way to make sure I'm not repeating myself. Or, at least, lessen the repeating.

[ A shrug. ] It seems like anything sets them off these days. I'd say its something in the air, but, I don't think this place even works that way. You know this... dream place better than me. Any idea what can agitate them this badly?

[ Then, he looks up front the television. A laugh escapes him. ] Oh, if I could? I would have. Nothing in this place works right. I've been trying for hours to get the right channel.

[ Tim leans over the television to look at the board. It takes a moment before he can figure out what part Alan is looking at. ]

Well, if I knew her name, I would of put that down instead of her hair color. [ He sighs slightly. ] I've seen her in dreams before--like others. She has something to do with those polyhedrons I keep seeing. I've seen her a few times on the T.V.s around the place.

And, no, that's not why I'm trying to get the T.V. working. I was hoping to find that scientist guy from before--oh, maybe you don't remember. There was this guy--"Dr. Darling the Science Man." I thought we could learn something from it. Or, I'm insane.

Why?

📺 in between with mr. door

[outlierdirector]

— special guest i.

[outlierdirector]

[ « No, no, no, no! It's not supposed to end like this! This can't be the ending. This isn't how it's supposed to go--is it? It can't be. This isn't how he'd write it. No, it can't be real. This isn't the real ending! »

The only feeling that validates her thoughts is that feeling of falling. Falling from very high and a sudden impact. The sort that happens in dreams that causes you to wake up from. It's a familiar feeling to Jesse, because it's how she feels at the end of every loop.

Like she's falling out of reality into another one.

She always ends up in the Oceanview Motel, laying on her back, staring at the ceiling of the hallway, laying inside her half-assed control point. The lights are always dimmed and parts of the Motel dark due to it's connection to the Dark Place. Sometimes she has to go through the ritual of three to get back to where she was in the Motel. It's the same spot, really, but with the wall almost fully covered in notes.

Notes of the loop she just experienced. Notes that she writes down a copy of and slips under the Spiral Door. It hasn't had any luck so far, but, she hopes that somehow those notes reach Alan Wake. Because then maybe he'll find the right way to get the edits so they can all go home. She can't get through that door--the Motel won't give her the key.

The notes are the only thing she has other than using Polaris to send messages. Or, the even smaller hope, that maybe Alan will find the Light Cord Switch again to come back to the Motel.

None of that is what happens this time.

Jesse still feels the fall and the sudden stop at the end. The jerking sensation and then her eyes snapping open.

But it isn't the Motel she's in. It's... a waiting room?

She sits up on the couch (couch?) and looks around the dimly lit room. The lights surround mirrors like the the old Hollywood films. Pictures line the room of faces she's never seen, and some that she knows intimately. She stands up and moves to the wall, taking in each signed photo. A Mr. Door? The Old Gods of Asgard--like they were from the back of her dad's old records? Sam Lake--funny, he looked like Agent Casey? And Alan Wake.

« Alan? He's here? He can't be here, he's trapped. Trapped in the Dark Place... »

Jesse stops then and looks around the room again. ]

Polaris?

[ Polaris is never really gone now. She can't be, with how interwoven the two are. But, she feels far away. Muted, somehow. Just like when Jesse finds herself in the Astral Plane. Something else dominates this space, and it's powerful enough to lessen Polaris. The thought alone fills her with a sense of dread.

« I don't want to be alone here. »

A sound of cheering catches her attention, and Jesse slowly turns her gaze back to the television on one of the counters. She hesitantly makes her way to it, raising her fingers to brush along the screen. Except she never really touches the screen. Instead, she finds herself nearly falling back over and in another place entirely. A familiar melody reaches her ears from beyond the curtains behind her. She knows that song.

Ahti gave her that song to listen to clear the maze.

Jesse turns on her heels--heels?--and pushes back the curtains. A roaring sound of applause happens and she winces at the bright lights suddenly hitting her.

« What the fuck? » ]

Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the show, Ms. Jesse Faden!

[ Her head snaps to the side as she feels someone grab her by the hand and guide her away from the bright lights. Her gaze immediately moves to the person touching her, seeing a man with thick rimmed black glasses in a suit. That's when she also notices her attire has changed from what she remembers it being. She doesn't dress like this. Well, maybe she could see herself dressing like it, but she doesn't. There's no point in ever looking this fancy. ]

Right over here, please! Take a seat! Wow. Now this is really a treat. To think we could get such a renowned guest on the show! I mean, Alan Wake is one thing, but you, Miss Faden? Wow! Or, can I call you Jesse? You don't like formalities as I recall.

[ Jesse's eyes snap back to the man sitting beside her at the desk. A talk show? What? Her gaze darts to the rest of the set. There's shades, maybe people, in the seats. An in house band? Wait, are they really the Old Gods of Asgard? Weren't they in a retirement home?

Alan told her they were over the Hotline.

She looks back to the man beaming from ear to ear waiting her answer.

« Are you there? I guess we should play along for now. » ]

Right, no formalities. Jesse is fine. [ Every part of that internal warning system she has is screaming at her about all of this. It's not real. Not the kind of real she knows. ] Sorry, why am I here?

Oh, that's right! We wanted to keep it a surprise when we reached out to you! [ The smiling man chuckles and leans back in his seat. He's certainly comfortable. ] I wanted to get both of you on the show at the same time, but, you know how it is trying to contact celebrities when they're doing promotional tours.

[ « Celebrities? Does he mean Alan? Is Alan here? » ]

I was hoping we could get an exclusive interview with the mysterious woman of our favorite tortured author! Rumor has it that you might be the new muse, and well, I couldn't help myself! I know it was very hard to get you on the show. You have quite the security detail.

[ « Polaris. He means YOU. » ]

Well, you can't be too ...cautious, I guess. Especially in my line of work.

And what exactly IS your line of work, Jesse? A spy? Oh, maybe a secret agent? Ah, no, that's RIGHT. Aren't you the head of a government agency? So secret that most people will have no idea what you were talking about if you mentioned the name?

It's classified. Redacted.

[ The talk show host laughs and claps his hands. ] And there it is! The classic REDACTED, folks! Oh, we really need to get you on the show more. We could use that kind of humor around here! We love Alan here, don't we everyone? But, he needs to lighten up sometimes. Which I guess is where you must come in.

[ « What IS this? Where AM I? I want to go home. I hate being here. Everything here is WRONG. I can't--it's hard to FEEL you here. Where are you? Can you show me how to get out of here? » ]

I guess I don't really follow. What do you mean by "where I must come in"?

Oh, please, Jesse. There's no need to be so secretive about it. Everyone here knows you're in a relationship with best selling author Alan Wake. A rather intimate one too. [ The host's eyebrows raise and he smirks as if knowing more than he's letting on. ] It must be pretty trying being with such a tortured but talented writer. He's pretty lucky to have you, if I say so myself. But, enough about that. What I wanted was maybe a hint of an inside scoop... about Initiation. Maybe Return?

[ Jesse's attention immediately hones in on the man beside her. Her eyes narrow, and her fingers curl slightly into her palms. No one should know the titles of those manuscripts but Alan. Well, her, because he told her. The FBI agents because they had the title page at one point.

« How the fuck does he know about that? Where AM I?! » ]

I'm sorry. How do you know about that?

Well, Initiation hits shelves tomorrow! Didn't you know that? I thought you were helping direct things behind the scenes. [ The host's attitude immediately drops into something more serious. Only for a few seconds. Then, he's smiling again. ] But, more on that in a few minutes! Don't touch that dial.

We'll be right back with more of our exclusive interview here, on In Between with Mr. Door!

[ The lights shut off except for the overhead analog writing: COMMERCIAL BREAK. ]

— special guest ii.

[outlierdirector]

[ The stage grows dark during the "commercial break", but she can tell it's anything but a break. The attitude in the whole room shifts. The Old Gods of Asgard disappear and a heaviness hangs. She knows this heaviness. It is the same kind that always followed Hartman--that is soaked into the ground of Bright Falls.

« This--this can't be. Behind the Spiral Door? The Dark Place? »

The host shrouded in the lack of light sighs. He sits behind the desk and sighs, removing his glasses. She can see his silhouette move and place them on the desk. Then, he turns in the seat and stands up. He tugs at the suit and crosses over to stand in front of her. Jesse immediately stands as well. She won't let this person--thing--intimidate her. ]

I had forgotten how stubborn you Fadens are. [ The host sighs and shakes his head slightly. ] Fighting against a current that is trying to help you. Although, I will admit, you are far more amicable than your brother, Miss Faden.

[ « Dylan? He knows Dylan? Wait... wait, Dylan said something about a Door once. He wanted to go to other worlds, learn how to travel, to bring the Hiss there. This "Door" refused to help him. Is this really that same guy? Why would he be behind the Spiral Door? » ]

And you're insistent connection to that resonance. Some things can't be helped, nor stopped, I suppose. Even when you're a dimension away from home. Hm. [ He glances upwards, squares his shoulders, and stares her down. ] I'll be frank, Miss Faden, as you've done nothing to get in my way. If anything? You're one of the few people that play their part to its full capacity and domain. This is a farce, as I am sure you can tell. All of it is. A way to help your wayward writer--Alan Wake.

[ « That must mean Alan is here. He's really here? Where? Maybe if we can leave through the Spiral Door-- » ]

Now, I wouldn't get too excited, Miss Faden. Alan is trapped here as much as any other unfortunate soul that crosses over. He insists on opening doors that shouldn't be opening, peeking in, trying to force things to work. I'm only involved because he dragged someone I care about into this mess of a story of his. But... he is a very stubborn man, as I'm sure you're aware of. Which is why I've brought you here for this short amount of time.

You really think Alan is going to listen to me? [ Jesse raises her eyebrows. ] He might, but in the end? Alan does what he wants to do. What he feels he needs to do. I can't control him--

--No, Miss Faden, you can't. You can barely control yourself and your Bureau. What I need you to do, instead, is play your part as you have been. This endless looping of his will destroy everything in its path. Himself and you included. Play along, do what you're called to do, and maybe he will come to understand what it is he needs to do. You've been doing it so far, but, things are becoming dire.

[ Jesse's expression falls for the first time in this whole conversation. She can tell they are. The story is getting darker every time, the false endings getting more drastic. Alan's losing his way in trying to get the story to do what he wants and get the ending he needs. There's an immediate reaction inside her--he can't take them out. He promised. ]

He needs to finish this futile story of his. Put it to rest. Move on. Stop chasing ghosts in his own head.

I'm not going to give up on him. I'm not going to tell him to stop going after what it is he wants. You can tell me to play my part all you want, Door, but I'm not going to have him give up to the whims of whatever the hell it is that's going on here.

[ Door sighs and shakes his head with a smirk. ] I expected no other answer from you. You are the way you are and that is why that resonance chose you. So, Miss Faden, let's try another way. Play along with this and whatever else I call on you to do. Maybe we'll find a way to get your writer out of his spiral yet.

[ The lights flicker and come back on. The Old Gods of Asgard return, playing the rift they had before. Jesse finds herself sitting back down on the couch, and Mr. Door back at the desk with his glasses on. All smiles and pretend the conversation hadn't happened.

« We don't have a choice other than to play along for now. I don't know the way out, and you still feel far away. » ]

Ha, welcome back, folks! I hope that commercial break didn't cause you to get up from your seats and run into the dark of night! Nothing good ever comes from it. We left of with our special guest for the night--the mysterious and controlled Miss Jesse Faden!

[ Jesse squares her shoulders before looking out at the "crowd." Fake smiles. She can play along. She's good at faking into situations around her. ]

Now, we left off on a bit of a cliffhanger there, Jesse. I had asked if you knew anything about Alan Wake's mysterious books--Initiation and Return! Initiation, as I said, is hitting shelves tomorrow. We had Alan on the show last night, and MAN, was he dedicated to the role! Overlapping realities, pretending he had no idea what he had written, acting as if he'd forgotten the whole thing. Pretty impressive.

[ « Did he actually forget that he wrote a manuscript outside of the one that's causing the AWE in Bright Falls? We've done so many loops that maybe he has. » ]

... well, he wouldn't be the best selling author that he is if he couldn't sell the idea in his books. [ She feels herself cringe on the inside at the thought of going along with this. ] You asked earlier if I knew anything about the stories, right? Well, I don't. He keeps it pretty close.

Are you sure about that? I mean, I have heard that you're his new muse. Surely he'd share something with you about it. Something that maybe he'd forgotten in one draft and you reminded him of?

[ « Fuck no, I'm not saying anything about that. » ] Sure, I mean, sometimes things don't fit in, right? They end up on the cutting room floor. Movies, books, t.v. shows... all that sort of thing. Look, Mr. Door, I don't know anything about an "Initiation" novel. Sorry to bring the mood down.

[ Mr. Door leans back in his chair and nods along. ] So, then, it must be "Return" you know something about! Maybe a sneak peek at what it is that we can expect?

[ « He said all of this is to help Alan, right? He's trying to get Alan to realize something. Maybe we should use it. I don't know if those notes I've sent are getting through. You hardly get through here anymore... » ]

What I can say is that it takes place back in Bright Falls. Like Departure did. [ She leans forward slightly, staring the man down evenly. ] Government agencies get involved. The doppleganger is back. There's a struggle between light and dark--

[ Jesse finds herself cut off as the band begins to play another rift of a song she doesn't know. The singer with the eyepatch smiles at her, nodding, as if he's onto something. ]

AH! "Balance Slays the Demon." A classic! Man, I missed your songs. [ Mr. Door chuckles and points straight at the band. ] And that's our queue. Hang tight folks, we'll be back with more of our exclusive interview right after this!

[ The lights shut off except for the overhead analog writing: COMMERCIAL BREAK. ]

— special guest iii.

[outlierdirector]

[ The stage grows dark during the "commercial break", but she can tell it's anything but a break. Jesse glances around at the missing crowd, the missing band. It's unnerving now. Not that she'd show it.

« How long is this going to go on? How many more "segments" does this guy need? This might not even actually be helping Alan. Or, getting to him. Whatever it is. This isn't a dream or a nightmare. It's some weird... in between both. Like being at the Motel between loops. I don't like it here. » ]

Well, Miss Faden. I suppose I should thank you for playing along as you have. I believe we can take it from this point on. That is to mean that your presence as it is not required.

So, that's it? Just like that? I can go home?

Finding your way home will be on your own end. Maybe if you can, you can find a way to show that writer of yours out.

[ The lights flicker once more before the studio remains dark. Door is gone. Jesse glances around before slowly standing. It feels as if everyone and everything is looking at her. Which, is entirely insane, as there's nothing in the studio with her.

Right?

She takes one more look around before slowly stepping off the elevated stage onto the rest of the set.

« It's still so hard to hear you. Like, you're far away. The channel is right, but the frequency? Reception? It's so low. It shouldn't be like that here. What about this place does that? »

She walks down the few steps by the stage onto the carpeted area where there would be an audience. No audience, not even a shade or outline or shadow. Her pace quickens as she practically stomps down the isle to the back doors and throws them open. A cafeteria?

Then... humming.

« No. No way, it can't be. Why would HE be here? »

Jesse immediately follows the humming and finds a door with a familiar poster on it. Her eyes light up as she smiles, pushing the door open to find that friendly familiar face. The Oldest House's janitor... who has been on vacation for quite a while. He humsa familiar tune. Of course she knows that tune. The janitor is the one that gifted her the song to begin with. ]

Ahti!

[ The janitor looks up and chuckles. ] Ah, my assistant! Lost, are we? In the dark without a light? You ought to know better by now!

[ Jesse laughs a little nervously and crosses the way to him. ] Yeah... I uh, well. I didn't ask to come here. Wherever here is. Uhm, Mr. Door brought me here? And then left me here as well.

[ Ahti clicks his tongue and rambles on in Finnish before pointing the mop stick at him. She smiles again, because, she's realized how much she's missed his presence in the Oldest House. ] Ya, ya, that Door. But, isn't that the thing about doors? They go both ways! What you can go in, you can go out.

...Right. And, the door that I could theoretically go out and in through?

[ The janitor turns and gestures to the door behind him. ] In the basement, of course!

[ « It's always the basement. Isn't it? Am I still in the horror story? » ]

Thanks, Ahti. Uhm... I... was wondering something. It's been hard to hear her--Polaris--since I got here? Do you know why? [ Jesse presumes Ahti knows all about that, given his otherwordliness. There's no reason to try and act dumb. ] It's like I can't turn the volume up. If that makes sense at all.

[ Ahti hums slightly before muttering to himself. ] The Dark does not like what can't make it darker. Tunes out the bright things. Makes it harder to hear, to see, to move. But! You've got no worries on that do you? I picked a good assistant. Never loses sight of what she needs to do, even if those prickly paskiaiset get inside your head sometimes.

Yeah. That's me... I try, anyways. I need to get going...are you coming back to the Oldest House?

[ He chuckles. ] Oh, you miss old Ahti! Once your loops are done looping and your poems ending, the sun will come through, and Tom will find his way home. Then, holiday! And back home.

[ « So... he hasn't been on vacation? » ]

No! Tom's little mess of a story interrupted my sauna! Doesn't understand that to a Finn, holidays are sacred! [ Ahti just sighs and smiles. ] But don't you worry about that!

Right... okay. Well, best of luck with Tom. I guess. See you on the other side?

[ The janitor waves her away and Jesse takes the hint that she shouldn't be lingering. Jesse gives him one more smile before stepping around him and heading to the back door, past the bucket and puddle on the floor. Weird. Ahti never leaves a mess.

She closes the door behind her and begins to navigate the confusing arrange of ...whatever the basement really is. Boiler room? Storage? Maze? It seems that it's all that at once. At one point she finds herself stepping into another puddle, like the area is flooded. It only goes up to her ankles, but it's enough to catch her attention.

« Good thing these aren't really my clothes. »

Eventually she comes to what seems to be a dead end. But, it's the only way to go. She looks on either side of her, down at the water, up at the ceiling. There's nothing to grab onto and climb. She groans loudly, throwing her hands down at her sides dramatically. ]

Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

♫ Hissing noises in the hallway
Bloodshot eyes, staring through, what seeds are sown? ♫

[ Jesse pauses as she feels something resonate. Vibrate. It's not Polaris, but it's something familiar and similar. Her eyes move back upwards as she can hear the distant lyrics and music of the song she knows too well. Then, she sees a burst of light.

Her surroundings change.

She turns around immediately, finding herself in the same space, but the water is gone. The room is ordered and cleaned. The music is clearer and there's a light above her. She flexes her hands, feeling her own power resonate slightly stronger in her.

« Was that you? Did you change things? ...No? Then what, or who did? »

Jesse half turns once more and her gaze lands on a familiar cord hanging from the ceiling. ]

♫ Who'll survive the blood red power play?
Who'll take control, whose name will be known? ♫

[ Jesse curls her hand around the Light Switch Cord. Questions later, time to get moving while she can. She tugs once.

The room changes once again to a different room. The light is still there, but there's a bucket and a mop. Metal shelves with televisions on them. A... lot of televisions.

« Weird... »

She tugs twice.

The room doesn't change but all the screens light up. It's all the same image, the same sound, and Jesse finds herself rooted in spot. She's never seen the room on the television, but she knows the man on it. She knows the voice.

Her hand lowers from the Light Switch Cord as she walks up to the wall of screens that feature none other than Alan Wake. ]

— messages.

[crazyisinevitable]

— lost.

[crazyisinevitable]

The Dark Place wants to drown me. I'm losing myself. I have to fight it.

[ Alan's steps echo loudly against the planks of the Writer's Room. He's pacing, frantically, erratically, hands sometimes pulling at his hair or waving in the air as he goes on his way.

This scene has happened before. He's done this before. But it's different. He's different. Even the clothes he's wearing are different: a jacket with elbow patches. A hoodie. Jeans. ]

I know this. I've seen these before. Where did I see them? Whose are they?

[ That's a strange name, A. Wake. Did I make that name up? I don't want to be a character... ]

How- How did I get here? What was I doing before? No, I'm always here. Writing. Always writing. The words are running out.

[ What was he doing before this? Looping, because he just keeps on looping? But what was the loop? Was he in New York? Bright Falls? Where???

His erratic pacing continues, but as he's pacing, one hand brushes against his forehead as if feeling for... something. What?! There's nothing there, so his hand moves again as his hands swing over his head in frustration. ]

I've written so much, but I have to keep writing. I have to write to find the way out. The way out is there, it's in the story, I have to write until I find it. I have to use it. Who put it in? Did I put it in? Did-

[ A grunt of frustration escapes him and he turns to look towards the door, but nothing's there. Nothing's ever there, until... until something's there. Someone.

The owl on the wall looking over the desk stays motionless. Except for the eyes. The eyes move, but Alan doesn't see them. They follow his movements when he isn't looking. The owl is watching.

The owl is watching, and Alan is pacing. Forward and back, again and again. By now, his steps should have worn a path on the floorboards of the room. But Alan's been on the floor. He's crawled along the floorboards. Laid himself down on them. There's nothing on the floor but dust. ]

Hello? Are- are you there? [ Alan's voice sounds quiet. Small. Afraid. ]

... Where are you? Are you still there? I can barely hear you. [ Jesse...? Who's Jesse? NO, I promised her! I said I wouldn't forget. I can't forget. Please, you can't forget.

...I'm losing you.

Alan's steps falter, and his knees buckle, sending him slowly dropping to the floor. At first, he just stays there on his knees, but then an idea hits him: a desperate, last-ditch idea. ]

I can't lose you.

[ He forces himself up from his knees again, and he staggers over to the wall. He presses his hands against it, and then he leans in so that his ear is pressed against it as well. ]

Hello? [ His eyes shift from side to side as he desperately listens, hoping to hear something... anything. Please.

But nothing greets him, nothing but silence. ]

I lost her. I lost them. The guiding star. She's gone.

[ A quiet rustle of clothing seems to echo in the silent Writer's Room. Alan is sliding down against the wall, away from the wall, slowly falling to the floor. His knees shift, rising up just a fraction as he curls into himself. ]

...You're gone, and I'm alone. I'm always alone.

[ yourealoneyouraloneyourealoneyourealone

The words echo in Alan's head, chasing themselves around in an endless loop, because even his own thoughts are caught in a loop. The echoes continue, growing quieter and quieter until there's only silence in his head again.

And in the silence, said so quietly that he might not have spoken at all, Alan just says one thing: ]

I'll show you.

[outlierdirector]

[ Jesse steps up to the rows of televisions. Her hands have dropped to her sides. It feels like all of her sense are drawn to the image on the screen and she's rooted in place. Every screen is the same thing so there's no way of looking away from it. The televisions line the entire room and all she can hear is his words around her.

They even drown out the Old Gods of Asgard song. ]

『 ... Where are you? Are you still there? I can barely hear you. 』

[ Alan's knees buckle and he hits the floor. She flinches at the sound it makes around her, as if it's a physical blow. ]

『 I can't lose you. 』

[ He pushes himself up and runs to a wall. Ear pressed against the wood, eyes wide, desperately listening.

As if it's automated, or maybe an answer, Jesse's hand raises and presses against the screen closest to it. ]

『 Hello? 』

I'm here--right here! [ She steps closer to the televisions, other hand raising to another screen. Maybe he isn't talking about her--it might be Alice Wake he's trying to reach out to. That doesn't stop the answer that bursts from her. ] I'm right here!

『 I lost her. I lost them. The guiding star. She's gone. 』

[ A sense of dread--no, horror--fills her then. The same kind that rose up when she saw Dylan possessed by the Hiss. She's once again standing between glass and the person she's trying to find and they're being drowned out. Alan isn't Dylan, and vice versa, but that panic is starting to rage inside her.

« No, no, no! We have to get to him. How can we get to him? What happens if he stops? We can't LET that happen! Please, tell me, how can we get to him?! He means us. Not just you, not just me. US. That's what he's always called you--my guiding star. He needs both of us before.... before... »

She's not sure what will happen next but it terrifies her.

Jesse finally pulls herself away from the screen as he mutters his last words. That familiar tug comes to her mind, even if it's softer than it should be. She glances behind her and then grabs the Light Switch Cord. Polaris has never guided her wrong and she won't now.

One more tug.

The scene around her changes once again to the familiar site of the Oceanview Motel. Her attire has changed, late night talk show clothes molding away into the body suit that hugs her frame minus the few pieces that flare to the sides. She doesn't even notice. She's running up to the desk, slamming on the bell, darting to each room she can to align the pieces that need to be there. Lamps on the desk a certain way, all the walls blank, the radios off. She's moving as fast as her body will allow her without her abilities as they've never worked in the Motel anyways.

Jesse hits the front end desk at full force and smashes her hand down on the bell again. A small ding echoes as an unfamiliar key forms in her hand. Doesn't matter, she'll figure it out later. She's down the hall again with the numbered doors instead of the pictured doors. She shoves the key into the door handle and pummels her way through into what she thinks will be the room with Alan in it.

It's home.

She stops and looks around, realizing it's her apartment. The one she gave the spare key to Alan. Which means the key in her hand can't be for this door, because she already has access to her apartment. Well, theirs in her mind. The only lights on in the house are the ambient ones and the television has static on it. She takes a few cautious steps forward before hearing an unfamiliar sound coming from the extra room.

The extra room with a Spiral on it now.

Jesse hesitantly walks up to it, feeling her hands shaking. She slides the key into the door handle. It gives a satisfying click before starting to open. Not another moment is wasted as she pummels the door open.

Right into another place that's unfamiliar.

A cabin?

She looks side to side, out the windows. There's nothing but dark clouds and darkness. Even the lights aren't on. Another tug to her mind brings her attention to a flashlight on a table. She picks it up, tests it, and finds the light flickers until it gives a dull glow. Whatever is powering it is faint... wherever she is.

Polaris gives yet another tug, and Jesse can see her shimmering up to the second floor.

Her feet in the stairs hard as she races up them with the flashlight in her hand. Two sets of stairs that leads to the second floor. Two doors, one on either side. One has the Spiral on it. She turns towards it, free hand moving to the door handle. She feels Polaris resonate through the handle. This must be their destination.

｟ You called me, so here I am. I'm here. ｠

It sounds like her voice in her head, but Jesse knows it's not. Its Polaris. Well, both of them. Just like she found behind the door in the Motel after Hedron died. Both of them together bringing that resonance wherever they are.

« Is this really the Dark Place? »

You have to promise me you won't go into the lake.

« I didn't! I never stepped foot in the lake! I promised, I kept my word! »

YOU PROMISED NOT TO GO IN THE LAKE!

Jesse winces suddenly as a surge of something rings through her mind. It's Alan's voice but it's not Alan. He'd know she wouldn't break her promise. That Something is loud and dominating, screaming, using different words in his voice. Her eyes shut tightly as she feels Polaris push against whatever it is. It takes a moment before she and Jesse succeed in pushing the Something out... and it almost leaves her weak at the knees.

Not important. The person on the other side of the door is important.

Her hand curls against the door handle once more before she slowly opens it to step inside.

｟ You called me, so here I am. I'm here. ｠ ]

[crazyisinevitable]

[ Alan can't know what's happening outside the Writer's Room. He can't know that Jesse is witnessing a recording of one of his breakdowns. How many of those has he had? Does he include the ones that ended in him throwing the typewriter against the wall and faceplanting on the desk? At least those didn't end up with him curled up on the floor.

If he's not writing, he's pacing the floorboards that really should be well-worn by now. Somehow, they don't even look like they've been walked on repeatedly. There's not even a scuff on them. But Alan's not thinking about that. He's not thinking about much of anything, actually. Oh, there's the thought in the back of his mind that he needs to be writing. He needs to be fixing the story. ]

I'm so tired.

[ The words slip out unbidden, and the voice that says them sounds raw like it's been screaming. Have I been screaming? Or am I just tired from reading and re-reading to make sure that it all sounds right?

He turns to take another circuit around the room, but his legs wobble and he's forced to throw a hand out to brace himself against the wall closest to him. Maybe I should stop. Just stop for awhile. I just want to sleep, but I know I can't.

It takes effort on his part, as his legs just don't want to work any longer, but he manages to cross the room and move behind the desk to stand in front of the window. There isn't much to see, and it's hardly calming, but it's better than staring at the typewriter that looks as though it's mocking him.

Alan stands there at the window, thoughts wandering but not going too far. Stray thoughts are dangerous in the Dark Place. All Alan wants is to sleep, but the Dark Place has no need for things like sleeping. Eating. Being human. ]

If I can't sleep, then I'm just going to stand here and not think. [ Well, I have to think, because I can't turn off my own mind, but- Wait.

Alan's head turns slowly to look at the door marked with a spiral. ]

It's impossible. I can't- I can't feel them, not here. Nothing reaches beneath the waves but ideas. Visions. [ Too many visions. Too many things that I can use. Should use. They can't reach me down here. Not this far down.

Alan turns his head away again and he leans his forehead against the cold glass panes of the window. It's so quiet in the room when he's not writing (or screaming out of madness... frustration...) that sometimes, the silence becomes deafening. It's why he's begun talking to himself. Stream of consciousness talking. Whatever comes to his mind, he says it. Maybe that's why his voice sounds hoarse. But if he doesn't talk, the silence threatens to overwhelm him. And when so much is overwhelming him already, it just feels important to try and push back with the only thing he has: words.

But how long can he keep this up?

He sighs and presses his head further against the window. But that feeling, that resonance sounds again, and Alan can't ignore it any longer. He doesn't turn from the window, because whatever this is, it's just an echo. It's in his head. It's not her. It can't be her. He's gone too far, dove in too deep. He's alone, and that thought isn't sitting well with him.

｟ You called me, so here I am. I'm here. ｠

What?

[ It's not real. You want it to be real so much, you're imagining it. Just take another minute, look out the window, then get back to work. Come on, Wake.

He doesn't hear the door open, doesn't hear the sound of a footstep falling against the wood floor. He just needs a moment, and that moment is probably all the Dark Place will give him. Maybe half a moment, if he's lucky. ]

▼ — return // bright falls.

[outlierdirector]

🕯 reunion.

[outlierdirector]

[ « He's here. Here, in Bright Falls. He's here somewhere. Can you find him? »

Jesse Faden presses her nuckles to her lips. It's still early evening. They have a handful of hours before the sun sets. That is plenty of time to find their missing writer and prepare for whatever terrors are in the night.

She's in her tacticle gear--ready for a fight.

This loop has been drastically different. They were never tipped off that Anderson and Casey found Alan. Maybe they hadn't found him yet. The monitoring site was a disaster the moment she and Steve arrived. "Racoons", they said. There were multiple alerts about the active AWE. Estevez went ahead to investigate while Jesse and Steve did what they could to fortify the site.

Then, she felt him. Or, Polaris did and told her.

Alan Wake was in Bright Falls.

She remembered the first loop--what she could anyways. Their relationship, the fact it was written out of the story. Now, she hopes Alan kept true to his promise and wrote it back into this version. It's so different that maybe he did...

Steve cuts the engine outside the Sheriff Station. Estevez had sent word that they had set up there. Jesse wastes no time exiting the rental, slamming the door shut, and pushing her way into the double doors.

« He really is here. Where? » ]

Director Faden. We have the situation under control. Lights outside with power, a black rock holding cell. It's not protocol, but with the limited resources--

Where is he? You took a parautalitarian into custody, didn't you? Alan Wake. Where did you put him?

[ Estevez blinks as she is cut off and looks to Steve as he enters the building. He pulls the aviators off and shakes his head. The new director will just know things, and apparently, the Polaris Resonance hasn't made its way down the chain. ]

Yes, I mean. We did find and confirm him at the site of the Motel here in town. The Cult of the Tree attacked, Wake was in the forest outside. We have the two leaders of the Cult here too. They're beside him. Director Faden. We've got this covered.

Where. Is. He? [ Jesse catches a shimmer beyond the door. Without waiting for directions, Jesse is pushing the door to the holding cells open.

Steve sighs and shakes his head . He's going to be the one to catch up the field agents on everything. He takes a look around, then gestures with a nod of his head. ]

Got any coffee? I'll go over the basics, Estevez. Which, reminds me. We brought something with us from the Oldest House for everyone...

[ Jesse immediately rounds the corner and sees the three occupied ones. She ignores the first two grumbling pacing people, muttering about the Cult and their job. A glance is spared at them, but her attention is more on the cell that Polaris shimmers towards. In a few almost instant steps she's there at the front.

He's sitting on the bed provided in the cell. Head in his hands. Long hair, beard. Jesse feels her heartbeat skip. Then, it speeds up.

He's really here.

How long has it been since they actually met in person? The Motel is one thing. Messages sent through dimensions is another. This, though, feels so, so different.

Her hands curl around the bars and she leans against the cell doors. She doesn't say anything at first, not wanting to rattle him. Instead, she rests her forehead on the bars and waits. The moment passes into two, then three.

Finally, she speaks up: ]

What did they get you for? Speeding? Jay walking? Oh, flannel out of season?

[ « A joke. That's a good start. »

The two men in the cell next door make biting remarks under their breathe. She sends them a pinned glare. It makes the louder one straighten up and the quiet one rinse his eyebrows. She turns her attention back to Alan. ]

[crazyisinevitable]

[ Where are they? I know I wrote them into the story again. I promised. I know they have to be here.

Alan remembers that being one of his last conscious thoughts before everything went to hell and he was dragged along with it. What else was he doing before the whole world went black? Casey was somewhere, and Alan needed to find him. The cultists were dead. He wore bloodstained flannel. The woods seemed to be reacting, recoiling... recoiling from the looming darkness?

And then the path lead him to a bridge, but as soon as he set foot on it, the pressure in his head increased. He fought, he wrestled with it, tried to keep his fragile hold on his sanity, but in the end, it all failed. He fell, head striking the ground hard, and all went black.

He doesn't remember being dragged from where he was found and brought to a holding cell in the sheriff's station. He doesn't remember the agents depositing him onto a bed inside the cell. He doesn't remember anything but the hell inside his head. Even unconsciousness doesn't spare him from harrowing, horrifying nightmares.

It's black inside his mind, and he's lost in the dark. Not just lost: blind. Fumbling for an exit that doesn't exist. A face, terrifying and evil appears before him: blood around his mouth and on his teeth. Scratch. He bares his teeth and lurches closer to Alan.

Alan jerks on the bed inside the cell, but the nightmare isn't over yet. I'm better at being you then you ever were. I'll take your life, take everything you have. Everything you ever wanted. Friends? They're mine. Love? That's mine too. It's all mine. You'll have nothing by the time I'm done.

Bared teeth come closer, and Alan feels a sharp pain, as if teeth have connected with flesh. The nightmares have turned Scratch into a monster that relishes the taste of blood and the feel of flesh. Not a silly vampire from a dramatic novel. The pain increases as the teeth sink deeper. Alan screams, and in the cell, his eyes fly open.

The Koskela brothers laugh at the man locked in the cell. They laugh as Alan gasps, hands flying to either side of his throbbing head. He doesn't know what time it is, doesn't know how long it takes for his panic to fade into something less sharp, less cutting. The pain in his head doesn't go away, but eventually, Alan regains enough of his senses to be able to sit up in the cell.

Where are they? Where are they!? He can't- he can't have gotten them too. Did he change the story? Did he take them out, when I wrote them in? ...Are they dead? God, please tell me they're not dead.

Time seems to continue slipping on by with Alan still being unaware of the passage of time. It feels like hours, and maybe it is. He's dimly aware of the men in the cell next door pacing around, grumbling, sometimes throwing jabs at him. None of it seems to matter. Alan doesn't move from where he's sitting.

Sometimes other voices register in his mind. Voices he doesn't know. The sheriff, maybe. But there's other voices, new ones: a man and another woman. The man sounds friendly, but resigned. The woman sounds tense. On edge. Alan can relate.

Then there's the sound of a creaking door and approaching footsteps. Alan still doesn't lift his head from his hands. Whoever's coming, it can't mean anything good. Is "good" even a concept in the world anymore? Everything feels like horror and death, corruption and loss of control... and blood. So much blood. The blood has soaked into Alan's flannel shirt, and the metallic smell is enough to make him sick. Maybe he'll never forget how nauseating the scent of clothes soaked in blood can be.

Someone's approaching. The steps are resolute but not heavy. Somewhere between light and heavy. Where are they?

Slowly, so very slowly, Alan's head lifts from his hands. He sees someone standing at the bars, hands curled around them, and forehead coming to rest against them. Wait. He sees a flash of red hair, and his breath leaves him in an instant. He knows that voice. It's the voice he hears in his mind sometimes. Memories. Dreams? What's the difference between a memory and a dream? ]

.... Jesse?

[ She's here. She's safe. Relief washes over him in spite of himself, and for a moment, he forgets about everything that led him here. He forgets he's in a cell covered in blood. Forgets the pounding in his head. He smiles, and it probably looks unsettling, given his rough appearance, but at least it's a smile. ]

It was definitely the flannel. [ The comment earns him a few more derogatory words from the men in the cell next door, but he ignores them. He's just glad to see her: the closest thing here to a friendly face. ]

[outlierdirector]

[ If she had heard that particular narration, she would of said her face had better be friendly after everything. The loops are still fractured memories, but she remembers their time crossing in other ways. Messages, the dreamlike Motel. Something tells her that she would of remembered even if Alan didn't write it into the story. It's one of those things she would fight his story about.

The expression in her jaw and face says the Director of the Federal Bureau of Control except her eyes. That fond smile only he gets is shinning brightly there. Something he should be able to pick up immediately on after their---well, time together. Maybe it comes off as unnerving or clashing to see the controlled woman speaking in her body language, but, she imagines it can't be. Not when he's a best selling novelist. ]

It's seen better days. [ She nods to the shirt... under shirt... everything he's wearing. ] I'm guessing it's not from rolling in the hay at pre-Deerfest festivities.

[ « He looks like hell. What the hell is happening in this AWE? It's different--I mean, different enough. He's usually covered in mud or soaking wet. Not... Taken don't leave blood behind. »

Her expression falls slightly as she is about to ask him something else before Ilmo Koskela smacks his hand on the bars. Jesse's gaze moves over to him, even if her head doesn't move from resting on the bars.

« Wait, THEY'RE the leaders of the Cult? The brothers with the ridiculous commercials? Damn. They were funny too. » ]

You better step the fuck away if you know what's good for you. You can't TRUST that sonovabitch! He's gonna kill you! All of us! [ Ilmo jabs his hand through his cell and points directly at Alan. ] Go tell those government fucks to let us out and let us finish the job. He dies, it all stops!

Illmo's right. [ The quieter brother pitches in. ] It's his fault. If you don't put a bullet in him then we will.

[ Jesse's eyes move back to Alan. Her expression doesn't change, but she seems to ask him something along the lines of "What the hell have you been doing?" without asking. She pushes herself up from the bars and door, fingers moving to the lock. She doesn't need the key to get out. Not when she can cheat a little bit with her powers. That and she may have forgotten to ask Estevez for the key. Her tunnel vision on finding him kicked in, just like it had for Dylan. ]

I hope you're in good enough condition to walk, Wake. I'm moving you. [ Another quick glance is given upwards, making direct eye contact with him. She has to be the Director, and hopes he doesn't take it personally or the wrong way. It's just until she can get him somewhere else. Somewhere with more light. ] I'm going to override and say keeping you next to the two cult leaders is a bad choice.

Are you fuckin' stupid, woman? [ Ilmo slams against the cell door as Jesse motions for Alan to walk over to the door as it unlocks. ] Did you not hear a single word we just said? He's gonna kill us all if you let him out and don't let us take care of this! You ain't a local, and you ain't a fed, so who the hell are you to decide what happens in our town?!

[ Jesse keeps her hands on the door of Alan's cell and keeps it shut with her powers. A long breath comes from her. One more glance is sent up to Alan before her head turns to the two crowing brothers. Her gaze is piercing and calculating again, looking each one of them over. She can't profile like Anderson, and she's damn well not a cop, but she can be just as intimidating when she wants to be.

At least, she thinks she seems that way. ]

The both of you are under arrest for suspicion of paracriminality, breaking not only natural laws of the way things function, but purposely causing it. If I were you two? I'd shut the hell up before you say something very stupid to the Director of the agency that has you under lock and key. [ She turns to the two cells as if to accentuate her point. The brothers stand straight and stare in disbelief that well--someone as young and not federal looking is who she claims to be. ] Let me see if I understand this. You two lead a local cult, suspected of murders that turn people into shadowed individuals. Ones with no will, no mind, and all their humanity carved out. They run rampant in the middle of the night and kill others. And now, you're claiming it's all Mr. Wake's fault, and that if I don't let you kill him, he's going to kill us.

You do realize that sounds absurd to someone who deals with this shit every day? [ She nods to the doors. ] I'd suggest you step back before you make an even worse impression on me. Now, shut up. Last warning.

[ Jesse looks back at Alan with a slight apologetic look on her face. Not for the display, but for what she'll have to do next. She's still the Director. She has to make sure people around her safe--especially when they don't really know what the hell is going on with him. All the field agents know is that he's a parautalitarian and quite possibly the cause of what's going on. She needs to make sure everyone feels safe--even if she knows none of them really are.

She swings the door open and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. Pure black in color, and obviously not standard use. She motions for him to give up his hands and gently cuffs him. Then, with one more apologetic glance upwards, she gestures with her head for him to walk with her. A hand curls in the blood soaked flannel sleeve and she starts to guide him from the holding cells even with the brothers crowning on.

« Remind me later that they're not as funny as I thought they were. »

Jesse holds up her other hand when Estevez suddenly jumps from her seat at the sight of Alan out of his cell. ] I've got it handled, Estevez. Calm down. Get the rest of the supplies together and set up. Sevastopol? Instruct Estevez and her team how to set up a Control Point. I'll do the finishing touches later.

[ Steve gives a low whistle and a smirk. ] "Sevastopol"? I guess that means the boss is in--ow!

[ Estevez turns her head as Steve rubs the back of his head and chuckles. Jesse glares at him for the moment, but understands what he means without really saying it. She gently guides him down the hall to the Sheriff's Office. A location that Alan should know well, but, Jesse wouldn't be aware of that fact. Her mind is on the fact that it might be one of the brightest rooms in the whole facility and sundown is a few hours away.

She closes the door behind them and guides him to the couch. Then, she unclicks the cuffs and slides them back into the pocket of her tactical vest. She then grabs a stool with wheels and quietly sits down in front of him. Her eyes look over his wrists at first to make sure the cuffs didn't leave a mark, then, they raise back up to his.

« God, he really does look like hell. What happened? I'll ask that later. He... looks like he just needs a minute. Or an hour. I think we can do that. Let's start out small. »

Polaris shifts in agreement. Then, for the first time in the span of the last few minutes, she shimmers. Just to reach out to the torchbearer briefly.

She gives him a small smile and not with just her eyes this time. Her hands hang between her knees as elbows go on her knees. She hunches over so she can speak quietly, just between the two of them. Not that she thinks he'll really be able to talk much. He seems lucid, unlike so many other loops, but she's not entirely sure just yet.

At least he's saying her first name now. ]

Hi.

[crazyisinevitable]

[ Alan stares at her through the cell bars, watching her. Taking in all of her features all over again. The red hair. The greenish eyes. The way her jaw slides to one side when she talks or is thinking. He sees the Director standing there, but he also sees Jesse. The way her eyes have lit up makes Alan feel warmer, as if he's being bathed in the light from them, even though the cell is dark.

The cell is dark. It makes Alan's skin crawl, and his gaze shifts to one side as if looking behind him to ensure that there's nothing lurking in the dark with him. When he sees nothing there, he shifts again, returning his gaze to look at Jesse through the bars. ]

Deerfest... Deerfest festivities. [ The words slide off Alan's tongue normally, but the meaning behind them is lost on him. ] There won't be a Deerfest this year, not if- if things keep going the way they are. It's my fault. His fault. [ The cult's fault. But I wrote the cult in, didn't I? Or did he do that? Does it matter? The cult is here.

Alan is about to say something more when Ilmo slams his hand against the bars, causing him to jump almost out of his skin. Jesse might not have moved away from the bars, but Alan's taken a step back. And then the floodgates from the two brothers open, and with each word, it becomes clear that it's having an effect on the writer. One hand slides up to the side of his head, and the other blindly takes hold of the cell bars in front of him.

If you don't put a bullet in him then we will. Alan's hand curls tighter around the bars, turning the skin of his fingers white from the pressure. Put a bullet in me, I'm done. But I can't be done. I have to keep writing. I know what happens if I stop. He gets in. He creates the horror.

His gaze shifts again as some semblance of awareness returns, and he sees the pointed look in Jesse's eyes, and the unspoken question there. When she finds out, what will she think? ]

You're... moving me? It's- It isn't safe. He could come back. Could come to find me, and you'll all be in danger. [ Never mind that the danger never stops, not really. ] Don't you think I should stay here?

[ The sound Ilmo makes as he slams against the cell door causes Alan to jump again. The darkness of the holding cells and his rattled nerves are really starting to get to him. He sees the way that Jesse is looking at him, how she pins him with a direct stare. She's doing something. Planning something. And he needs to go along with it. Luckily for them both, he trusts her. She's shown him he can trust her, and then some.

He ducks his head briefly as another diatribe spills out from Ilmo. And then he hears Jesse's response, another flood of words, and certain words from both of them cause Alan to flinch and recoil. "Shadowed individuals." "He's gonna kill us all." "Humanity carved out." "It's all Mr. Wake's fault." "Now, shut up."

It isn't until he spots the cuffs in Jesse's hand that Alan understands the reason for the look of apology she's giving him. Inwardly, he's shrinking back. Outwardly, he tries to appear unaffected. It doesn't quite work, but he knows what she's doing. It's necessary. He's a danger. The people here don't trust him, and why should they?

With that thought in his head, he raises his hands so she can put the cuffs on him. And at her gesture, he follows her, only occasionally stumbling here and there when uncertainty tugs at his mind. His gaze travels down to where her hand is curled into the blood-soaked fabric of his sleeve. How can she touch me? Can't she see the blood? How could she miss it? It's everywhere.

The blood is on his hands and on his face, flecks of it clinging to his beard. Even the briefest glimpses that Alan gets of it is enough to cause a recoil. And just when he thought he couldn't be more traumatized. The stakes are always raising, and the effects on him seem to grow all the time. But he clings to one simple thought: Jesse is here. She'll have a plan. Guidance. She'll know what to do, even if Alan doesn't.

He stays silent throughout the brief exchange with Estevez and Steve. Steve's safe too. Good. As safe as anyone can be, I mean. But then they're moving again, and Alan quietly follows Jesse down the hall. He knows where they're going. He's gone this way before too.

She guides him a few steps more to the couch in the room, and he sinks into it, even though a warning goes off in his mind that he'll get blood on the couch. It's too late for that, most likely. Maybe most of the blood has dried. He sits still as she removes the cuffs, aware of her perusal as she examines his wrists and then looks to meet his gaze.

What now? Another interview? I know she has questions. He tries to smile in return, but it's a ghost of the smiles he's given her before. He's with her, not spiraling too much yet, but it really feels like he's holding on by barely a thread. Maybe talking to her will restore some of those lost threads. She has that effect on him, somehow. ]

Hey. [ At least he can respond, right? Right. ] It's been... it's been a little while. [ His left hand shifts to grasp the sleeve with two fingers, pinching the flannel between them. ]

...You're going to interview me again, aren't you? [ He knows the routine by now. Somehow. ] How many times have we done this? I've- I've kind of lost track.

— morning.

[outlierdirector]

( continued from here )

[ While Alan wrestles with the concept that he may not be able to protect her, keep her alive, or even help? Jesse is convinced that they need him. Alan has fought the Dark Presence and Taken before. He knows exactly what needs to be done, the tactics involved, what to expect. They have their information from second hand accounts, but Alan is literally the man that has lived through this before.

Who better to have in their corner?

« We can't survive this AWE--this story--without him. Even if he isn't the main character or the major player? We NEED him. Not just as the writer, but as the... what did you call him? Champion of Light, Torchbearer? That's what we'll need to finish this. »

Her smirk only falters due to the embarrassment showing in her eyes. Put on a show? Really? Should she take it the way her mind goes to? Maybe not. ] Let's see if you can keep up. I don't do repeat performances.

[ Night fall.

A familiar scream in the air.

Jesse knows that sound. Not as well as Alan, or maybe even the other FBC agents in Bright Falls, but she remembers hearing it. In and out of the humming tune that Scratch had with their fateful encounter. It makes the hair on her arms and neck stand up. A panic beats in her heart that she won't admit to anyone about. Especially Alan--he'd insist she not fight. Which just isn't an option for the Director.

At least, not in the way she's the Director.

She doesn't demand Alan to be in any place in particular and lets his instincts guide him. He'll know where to go and fight.

She teleports between the two control points as needed, dropping off ammo and lights to the outside combatants. Inside, she directs barricades and has Polaris keep an eye on Steve as best she can. There aren't as many Taken as she thought there might be. Instead they're powerful. More so than she expected. They may not be overrun with numbers but instead parts nearly buckle and bend with just how furious the once-people of Bright Falls were.

At some point during the exchanges a knife sails through the air. It slices past her, and she's able to grab it with her powers and slingshot it back into the head of the Taken that threw it. She can feel the warm liquid roll down the side of her face, but honestly, it's not even registered that the damage has been done. Her mind is rolling a thousand miles a second in sending weapons back to the senders and aiming lights as needed.

Then, sun breaks.

The Taken don't disintegrate like vampires in the movies. They don't scamper back into the shadows. They wait until the very last shadow disappears before screaming into nothingness. The FBC managed to last a night. She just hopes its the first of many nights.

There's causalities of course. The brothers survived in the cells, and Steve makes it out just fine. Estevez and Alan as well. They only lost two people, but it's still two body bags she's staring at. Two names to write down and send condolences for if the reality of this story comes true in the end.

« Just more names to list... »

Jesse frowns even as Estevez tries to reassure her. Even tells her that Alan did better than she expected and she's glad the Director followed her instincts. Speaking of Alan, Estevez explains she saw Alan head back towards the Sheriff's Office. Probably to catch a breather after all "whatever the fuck that was" as Estevez puts it.

She rummages through the supplies the agents brought with them and finds a change of clothes. Sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. That's almost nostalgic for some reason she can't truly put her finger on. It's better than the blood soaked clothes Alan had to fight in the night before... although Jesse does feel a slight tinge of disappointment he'd need to leave the jeans and flannel behind.

He looks good in it, when he's not covered in blood.

Jesse knocks on the door, slowly opening it to look inside. The morning sun is filtering through the blinds on the windows and giving off a warm early-fall atmosphere. Her green eyes scan the room until she finds the Writer. She was half expecting him to be pacing around and muttering about what part they need to prepare for next. Instead, she finds him on his back.

Asleep.

She enters the room and stands in the doorway for a long moment. When was the last time she saw him sleeping? Not tormented by nightmares--at least yet--and actually resting? The memory feels faded and from a dream, but she can recall one instance. A motel room further in the mountain passes. Afternoon sun coming through the window. He was next to her under the covers, clothes--somewhere else. That part didn't really matter. What mattered was seeing him sleeping and... being at peace.

Happy.

Maybe she just thought he looked happy in his sleep.

« That was it, wasn't it? When I realized I loved him. Or, at least, when it really sank in. »

She shakes her head at herself. She sets the change of clothes on the back of the couch and pulls a blanket up over him. It doesn't come close to a real bed, but, maybe that can come later this loop. Maybe it'll be the last loop.

Her attention is pulled away by Polaris tugging at her and shimmering down the hall. She leaves as silently as she entered the room. A few strides and she is in the front hallway again. She expects to see the local law enforcement demanding to be let back in for work. Instead, it's the familiar face of an FBI agent she hasn't seen this time around. One she can remember getting along with. ]

Agent Anderson. Good to see you're still here. [ Jesse means it with a smile too. ] Is there something you need?

I need Wake. You have him here, don't you? Your people took him into custody as well as took over my case. [ Anderson shifts the crossbow--crossbow?--on her back and takes a few steps forward. ] I have something he needs to fix this mess. Where is he?

[ Jesse hesitates. Something about this doesn't feel right. Even if she can feel that familiar tug of reality gnawing at her ankles. ] How about we get breakfast first? We can share what we know, come up with a plan, and then I can get you to Wake.

No, I need to talk to him right the fuck now! And who the hell are you anyways? You're not the agent that--

Director Faden. Like I said, we can work together to figure it out. Overriding protocols and changing the game plan is something I can do. So, what do you need with Wake? It can wait until we've all eaten and recovered from last...

[ From somewhere, the Writer may suddenly feel something in his mind. A poke, a prod, but not something gentle like Polaris. Inquisitive. Digging for answers. Trying to make sense of all of it. ]

【 Wake. I have questions and I need the answers to them. Where are you? I have the Clicker. 】

[crazyisinevitable]

[ With the arrival of nightfall, Alan feels fear set in. Terror, even. But he can't let that fear control him. He has to control it, has to use it as a tool to spur him on to fight back. The Taken only want to kill, and if he's dead, he can't fix the story. He can't fix what needs to be fixed to bring this all to an end. Of course, part of him doesn't truly believe he'll ever see that end. There'll just be more loops on top of loops and him in the middle of it all trying to write the right thing to end the loops for good.

But still, he grasps his flashlight firmly in one hand, and readies the gun in the other. His hands shake, but he holds onto his weapon even harder to try and steady himself. He can't let anyone see that he's afraid.

He starts off inside, but soon enough, he finds himself moving outside to where the Taken are coming. They don't come in waves, but more in groups of two or three, sometimes four. But they hit hard, and they're relentless in their assault. At one point, his weapon jams just as two Taken are bearing down on him. He aims his flashlight at them, burning them with the light, but a flashlight won't put them down for good. One of them swipes at Alan with what was an axe in another life; only the handle remains, but it's not any less effective as a weapon. The axe handle catches him in the side below the ribs and the force of the blow sends him reeling. He barely manages to avoid falling, as that would surely end up with him being overrun, but it's a near miss.

Luckily for him, or perhaps not so luckily, when he stumbles, he narrowly misses tripping over an agent who didn't survive. At first, Alan's eyes widen with horror, and then his expression sobers once more. I'm sorry. This is my fault.

But he doesn't have time to express further remorse to the fallen agent, as the Taken are still coming closer. He grabs the gun the agent once used and launches back into the fight.

As the minutes go by and the fighting continues, Alan finds himself slipping into a state of heightened focus. It's what usually happens when he's locked in a fight against Taken, but it also seems to be keeping his own exhaustion at bay. He can't remember when it was that he last slept, and that lack of sleep is beginning to show in his movements. But to lower his guard could mean death, and that's the last thing he wants right now.

Finally, the sun begins to rise, and with the arrival of the sun, the Taken slowly disappear. They did it. They survived. There will be other fights, and the Taken will return, but they survived. Alan slowly moves to the closest wall so he can lean against it, and as he does, he passes the same fallen agent whose gun he took to use in the fight. A feeling of regret pulls at him, and he hates how the process of writing the story has made him rationalize horrible things that happen. Rationalize, but not like. He could never be truly all right with senseless deaths even if the story demanded horror and horrific events.

From his position leaning against the wall, he watches the various agents moving around. Estevez made it through the night. He even caught a glimpse of Steve from a distance. He thought he saw a flash of red hair also from a distance but wasn't able to get a better look.

Estevez herself passes by Alan at one point and stops, giving him a nod of acknowledgment. ]

You handled yourself well out there, Wake. I'm going to be honest, I wasn't sure what to expect from you, but you exceeded my expectations. [ The agent offers a tired smile, but it's a genuine one. She has to move on fairly quickly, as she has some things she has to oversee, not leaving Alan much time to respond, but he has just enough time to offer a small smile in return.

Eventually, Alan realizes that his presence isn't exactly required now that the fight is over and the process of regrouping and assessing the state of affairs has begun. The agents don't require his assistance anymore now that the Taken have gone, and he's back to just being a person of interest in their investigations. The feeling of exhaustion returns as his heightened adrenaline fades, and he decides to head back to the sheriff's office to think.

Once there, he sits down on the couch, planning to just sit there and think about what to do next until someone came to collect him again. But instead, he ends up falling asleep, lured into sleep by his exhaustion and the relative comfort of the couch. How long has it been since he was anywhere remotely comfortable? Either way, sleep claims him and Alan's dead to the world.

He doesn't even register Jesse entering the room or leaving it again because he's sleeping so deeply. It seems that he needed the rest so much that nothing could disturb him. And the nightmares he feared he would see if he fell asleep haven't come.

The only thing that disturbs him comes a little later in the form of an insistant, nearly incessant prodding in his mind. He frowns in his sleep, shifting on the couch, the expression on his face revealing his sudden discomfort.

What the hell is this? Anderson? What do you want?

Alan's tone is none too pleased, even if it's only in his head. He finally got a chance to sleep, and even that couldn't be undisturbed. Figures. This is the exact opposite of peachy. ]

[outlierdirector]

[ Saga Anderson steps from the darkness of the mind's eyes and stares Alan down. Dirt is over her, clothes dripping wet, crossbow on her back. She's been through a hell of a night. Her partner is MIA, her case taken from her, and the star witness of it all in custody of another department. A department that seems keen on keeping her away from him. ]

【 What do you mean "What do you want"? You SENT me to get the Clicker. You told me I had to get it, and I've been through absolute fucking Hell to do it. So, don't pull that tone on me. 】 [ Saga starts to move to the side, almost like she's circling him. Trying to profile him. Get the information she wants. Trying to See what she wants. ] 【 The FBC won't tell me where you are in here and you NEED the Clicker to fix this mess. This story. 】

[ Saga pauses a moment. Her head turns to look behind her at something. Then, she blips out. A moment passes. Two. Three.

Profiling has always worked for her until she came to Bright Falls. She's met her family and they swap places with her in her Mind Place. This is different. She can't even get the information she wants from her profiling. Like she's...blocked. Denied access. What the hell?

Saga returns to the darkness in the mind before Alan can let sleep pull at him again. ]

【 I can't get anything off the agent that took you into custody, or their boss. I tried "asking." They dodged the question. So, let's make this easy on both of us. We can meet in the back of the lot and I can get it to you through the fence. 】

— meeting.

[outlierdirector]

[ All she wants to do is sleep.

It's taken so long to get where she's at. Which, to some, a random bed in some random motel in a backwater town in Washington isn't much. It would of been some inconsequential thing if not for the man she's sharing the room with. That makes it everything in that moment. The last time they had done this feels so long ago that it may has well been in another lifetime. And, some researchers in the Bureau might call it that with the various levels of altered reality they've all slipped through.

She's dimly aware of the arms around her as the gentle familiar tug comes to her mind. Jesse rolls more into the pair of arms holding her. Maybe it's a childish notion, but, she might also be owed something like that. She wants just this one thing without needing to jump to action as soon as some paranormal entity calls. Unfortunately, that paranormal entity happens to be the one she plays host of resonance to. Ignoring her is pretty impossible.

« ...what? Talk to Anderson? Why? I'm here, with Alan. Whatever it is can wait a few hours, can't it? How many ever hours we have until nightfall. Just let me have this time for myself. Please? »

Polaris shifts. Insistent. Time isn't on their side and the story is growing to its next story beat.

Jesse turns further into Alan's hold, as if he'd be able to keep everything out. Of course, he can't, but this one time she wishes she wasn't a hotline for paranormal voices that want attention.

« Fine. How am I supposed to talk to her? I'm not leaving... and you didn't like her inside my head the first time. Not that I enjoyed the idea either. You're sure the Board won't get upset? ...alright. Do whatever it is you need to. »

Polaris' resonance beats through the Sheriff's Station, amplified by the agents wearing the HRAs. Most people would never pick it up, but those that have unique abilities can. A gentle hum that beats like a steady heartbeat. One that can reach out to any needed. Those with unique abilities can sense words sometimes, otherwise it feels like an idea that has suddenly come to them. Maybe even to others it may come as a flash to an image.

That is how Polaris reaches out to the FBI Agent Saga Anderson. A gentle flash of an image of a woman with brilliant red hair, and the inclination to reach out to her again. Gently this time. No intentions of shoving her way in.

Jesse opens her eyes to find herself in the field office of the FBI in the Elderwood Lodge. She glances side to side, turning slightly to note the ordered papers on the wall.

« Huh. I have to admit, it's not quite what I expected. I thought it might be something like when someone uses the Hotline. »

She picks up on the shift in the room. Fair enough, given this isn't Jesse's own mind. Her gaze moves to across the table to find one Saga Anderson. She sets her jaw and lifts her chin slightly. Guarded. She can't help it, even in a mental projection. She hates being profiled, being examined.

« Maybe we can make this more like a conversation than anything else. »

Her hands at her sides raise slightly as if to say tah-dah! Her hair is down, and this time, dressed as the Director of the Federal Bureau of Control. That is who Saga tried to poke after all. ]

Anderson, right? [ Her tone suggests everything about this is very normal for her. It's a little unusual, even for Jesse, but psychic conversations aren't necessarily weird. ] You wanted to talk earlier. So, here I am.

[wontbeperfect]

[ Two very different scenes are playing themselves out at the same time. In one scene, Alan's asleep with his arms around Jesse. He doesn't look peaceful, exactly, but he does look more relaxed than he has in a very long time.

In the other scene, Saga Anderson is pacing around lost in thought, or so it appears. She needs something, needs to talk to a specific person. Not just to get information, but to... apologize? Somewhat, anyway. The first time she tried speaking to this person, nothing went the way it should have, and it ended with her being forcibly dragged from the room.

But this time, it's not her doing the reaching. Or the breaking in. Not that the sensation in her mind feels like a break in. It's more like a nudge.

Alan, however, senses a shift. Maybe not from Jesse herself, but from Polaris. Or maybe it's just him reacting to Jesse shifting positions in her sleep and not wanting her to leave the bed or him just yet, even if his sleeping mind has no awareness of what time it is. His arms curl a little tighter around her, not enough to restrict movement, but just enough to hint at an unwillingness to let her go.

But when she stills, he does too, as if he only relaxes when he feels her do the same. Of course, the opposite is true, but as long as she's relatively still, it doesn't take much for Alan to sink deeper into sleep.

Saga's pacing continues, but it's not in the cell she was put in. Thank goodness for that. Even if I'm not really out of there, those brothers were really starting to get to me.

She looks up when she sees Jesse walking towards her, and she can't quite help the feeling of vague respect that rises up when she sees her. There's something about the way she carries herself, the energy that she gives off. It's pulled Saga's focus, at least. Maybe she really did go about this the wrong way. But maybe it's not too late to extend an olive branch. ]

Yeah. [ This is a little awkward. But it's awkward because of me, so I need to fix it now. ] Yeah, I wanted to talk. But first-

[ What do they call that? Humble pie? Yeah. That's it. I can admit when I've screwed something up, and Sevastopol made it pretty clear I screwed a few things up. ]

First things first. I owe you an apology, so... I'm sorry, Director.

[outlierdirector]

[ Jesse stills as her mind reaches out to Saga--or maybe her mind is reached out to. She still reacts as Alan's arms tighten around her, leaning into his hold. Her breathing evens as at least her body calms back down into sleep. Her head still pounds, but, it's only something she's distantly aware of inside the field office in Saga's mind.

She isn't one to go poking around in someone else's head. If only because she wouldn't appreciate it being done to her. Still, she notes the various things Saga has taken notes of. The fact the desk in front of Saga is covered in pictures of faces--hers on one of them. ]

Jesse is fine. I don't really do formalities. [ She gives a little bit of a smile. People still call her "Faden", and she has the feeling Saga would fall into that camp. ] And, apology accepted.

[ Jesse glances to the side quickly. Polaris shifts, but, is relatively silent. Maybe because she doesn't want to tip the other woman off just yet. Fine by her. ]

These... abilities we have. They're not really mapped out or have handguides to them. So, just, be a bit more cautious, I guess? [ « Very directorial of you, Jesse. Smooth. Arish and Steve would never let it down if they heard that. » ] I'm sure it's obvious that I don't like people poking around in my head--even without my own abilities. So, we'll just call it a misunderstanding and move on.

[ She rolls her shoulder a bit before gesturing to the side. ] I can't garauntee I can answer every question you might have. But, I'll give you what information I can.

So... fire away.

[ « We don't have the time to be enemies. So, as open as we can be. » ]