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

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

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

[ « 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. ]

Edited 2023-11-01 22:03 (UTC)

[ 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. ]

[ 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.

[ 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.

[ "There won't be a Deerfest this year." "It's my fault. His fault." "You'll all be in danger."

The more he speaks, the more notes she makes in her mind. Maybe she would have asked what he meant at one point. Except he's jumping at every sound in the darkened cells, and his knuckles are turning white at every jab the brothers are sending at him. The little details haven't escaped her notice. She may not be a novelist or a writer, but she knows Alan. At least well enough to see the little details coming out about his behavior. She can tell when he's being washed away, when something truly frightens him, and when he's just being an asshole.

Right now it seems he's left frightened behind a few days ago.

She wouldn't call it having a plan. Can she have more than what the architecture of the AWE gives her? Jesse feels she has something vague like a plan. Things she has put together over all the memories she's managed to maintain this time around. Things she's learned through Alan's trial and error, and things through her multiple failed attempts to reach him in the Dark Place.

« If anything? We'll have a base of operations. It's not full proof. We'd need more power... more light... but I guess we can provide the power if needed. We probably will. Would you be willing to do that? »

Polaris shifts.

« I thought you'd say that. »

The handcuffs are made of black rock. The idea is to trap a parautalitarian's powers. Jesse knows his doesn't work like that, but no one else does, so it was a move entirely of comfort for them. If she had the option? She would have walked him out of the cell blocks holding his hand. They don't have that luxury when everyone knows that Alan caused the AWE in 2010 and has most likely caused the one they're all living through at the moment. Regardless, that's why she had checked his wrists. She wanted to make sure the cuffs hadn't damaged or hurt him in any way. ]

Has it--I mean. I guess. [ Jesse shakes her head lightly. He would know better than her. Dreams and the in between loops all blends together for her. Though, given he's the one writing the story? He'd be the one to know how long it's been.

Her gaze drops only to follow his fingers pinching the flannel between them. She knows that habit. He's trying to keep from losing it. Maybe because of the dark cell, or the fact he's been through only God knows what in the forest. Even the brothers got under his skin. Maybe it's all of it.

« What has this loop been like for him? We usually cross paths much sooner. Almost at the start of it all. So, why was it so late this time? Did he figure something out? I'd ask, but... he doesn't seem to remember everything here in our reality like he does in the Motel. That's part of the story though. He can't know where it's going while he's in it. Just like everyone else. »

She pauses.

« Did he worry about not finding us sooner? Or, is it just me? »

His question snaps her from her thoughts with Polaris. She sits up right, eyebrows coming together, looking at him as if he's proposed the silliest idea she's ever heard. ]

What? No. [ She shakes her head lightly, causing the loose hair to bounce off her cheeks. ] I lost count of how many times we have--but, no. No. I wasn't going to at all. Why? I already know the answers you gave me countless times.

[ Jesse hesitates for a moment. ] I...

[ « How can I say it without sounding ridiculous? More than I already am around him. »

She looks to the side and frowns to herself. ] I was--I thought that...

[ « I really do sound ridiculous. Maybe I shouldn't have worried at all. It wasn't just worry. I was scared that I lost him this time. Again. Have I? What if he doesn't remember what I do? Or, not enough for it to matter. He promised though. He said he'd write it... »

Jesse frowns more before bundling everything inside her and forcing herself to look back at him. She wants to talk like they did before, be side by side, be with him. ]

I just wanted to talk. [ « Like we have. » ] Not the interviewing kind. Like, how we...

[ She shakes her head again at herself, it's not important. Her eyes stay downwards. Jesse rarely let's herself be vulnerable. Anytime she senses that it might have been wrong to do so? Those walls slowly start to come back up in self-defense, and it's obvious in how her posture goes rigid and the look in her eyes. Of course, Alan knows all those small details. How much he can pick up on them with his current condition is another thing.

« I miss him. » ]

Nevermind.

[ « Maybe it should have been an invterview. » ]

Edited 2023-11-02 23:26 (UTC)

[ Fear. Horror. Fear piled on top of fear. Desperation. That's all that Alan's known since this loop began and snowballed into the mess that it is now. Cultists dead. Deer heads covered in blood. Scratch laughing in the distance. Casey missing. Saga- Where did she go? And above all of that, a fear for the safety of a pair of agents. Yes, Alan felt afraid when he didn't see Steve and Jesse anywhere. He felt near panic when he thought that he might not see them this time, for any number of reasons. And clamoring loudly beneath all of that was a fear that Jesse was gone.

Gone from the story, despite his efforts to write her back in. Or just... gone. Dead. Out of his reach forever, never to return. I promised. I promised I'd put us back in. Jesse, I promised.

But Jesse's here, she's alive and talking to him, and arguing with the men in the cell beside his. She's alive, but even as she slides the cuffs onto his wrists that weigh him down and make him feel like he's being pulled down once more, and even as she guides him down the hall and eventually removes the cuffs, he knows he won't believe it until he can touch her himself.

But before he can do that, as he sits on the couch in front of her, he draws his arms back in, wrapping themselves around his torso in what looks like a protective posture. But the truth is, everything aches. His body aches, and even though the cuffs around his wrists are gone, his arms ache too now.

Still, even though everything seems to be protesting and hurting all at once, a great weight has fallen from Alan's shoulders. Jesse's alive. She's here, and as safe as it's possible to be in the middle of this neverending nightmare. She's not dead; he didn't fail to keep his promise. Never mind that Jesse being dead wouldn't mean Alan didn't live up to his word. But if she had died, he would have seen it that way, and nothing would make him change his mind.

He's done so much that brought harm to others, and if the words of Ilmo and Jaakko are anything to go by, he's fucked things up. A lot. But if there's one thing he hasn't done, it's get her killed again. She's not safe, not yet. None of them are. But Alan knows now that he would do just about anything (short of writing her out of the story, since that would be breaking his promise) to keep her alive.

But enough of that; he's been lost in his own head for long enough. Jesse's here and he wants to talk to her. He wants to hear her voice again. It takes a monumental effort to pull himself out of his thoughts, but he manages it eventually. ]

It has. It's been too long. [ And too much has happened. He unwinds one arm from around himself to pinch the flannel again, pinching his wrist beneath the fabric. He needs to stay grounded, or this conversation won't be a conversation.

He startles a bit when he sees her move, shifting until she's sitting upright. Sudden movements make him jumpy, but he manages to start breathing again when he realizes it's still her, not a Taken. He doesn't want to think about her and the Taken in the same sentence. ]

The- The Director likes reports, right? Or should like them. I- I have other answers. New ones. [ Ones I hate. Ones she should hate. But she should know them, shouldn't she? He doesn't want to talk about them. He doesn't want to report what's happened in this loop. He just wants to talk, like she does. Talk, and hold her hand, and be together before the horror story tears them apart again. Because it will. It's hungry. Wild. Angry, even. And there's only so much Alan can do to fight that. ]

What- What did you want to talk about? [ His grey eyes search to meet her green ones, but her gaze is turned downwards and he can't connect with it. I don't want to lose her again. I hope that I haven't lost her. ]

[ Jesse watches each of his movements with keen precision. He's not agitated, but, he's definitely scared. More scared than she's ever seen him before. It doesn't seem like he's lost to whatever pulls his mind away. His powers, the Dark Presence, whatever it is. She's never really asked and doesn't intend to ask. If only because she's sure he wouldn't want to answer the question.

Her jaw slides to the side as he keeps talking. She actually hates reports--namely writing them. Reading them is something she's just used to doing after finding a seemingly endless amount through her combing of the Oldest House. He isn't wrong in the fact she should be asking questions. She should be trying to learn what has happened since they last met. But... not now, and not only because she doesn't want to. Everything about his state of being says those questions and answers are better left for later.

Maybe once he's eaten, and slept, and not covered in blood.

« How long is "too long"? Has he--has it been long enough where he's moved on...? »

She hopes not. The thought alone makes her own heart beat painfully and her hands shake slightly. Her fists curl then uncurl. There's only one way to find out. Even if she's afraid of the truth.

« New answers can wait until the morning. When the sun is out and he's calmer. We need to get through the night--all of us here. Even the assholes in the cell. »

Jesse slowly moves this time. Both hands raise, one gently resting against the one pinching himself, and the other resting on top of the pinched wrist. It takes another moment before she brings herself to raise her eyes this time. Her green ones meet his gray ones, and it's clear she's timid. Afraid he might pull his hands away and ask what the hell she's doing.

« He said he forgets. The Dark Presence takes parts of him away and his memory away. What if--what if he forgot about us? So he couldn't put us back in the story. Or, maybe he really has moved on. »

Either way, they should try again. From the start.

She leans forward slightly. Just enough to be tipping into his space, but not far enough where he should feel cornered by her. ]

Alan. [ Her hands gently squeeze his hand and wrist. ] Are you okay? You're here in Bright Falls. With me.

[ In Bright Falls with Jesse, not just the Director.

She knows he isn't and it's obvious. Still, it might help him transition from the idea of interviews. Just the two of them--however they stand now after it's been so long for him. ]

Edited 2023-11-03 05:30 (UTC)

[ He just keeps pinching his wrist; not constantly, just once every five or ten seconds. Another pinch. And then another one. The sting of the pinch helps ground him somewhat. It's becoming less and less effective as a coping mechanism but Alan refuses to admit it and stubbornly keeps pinching himself.

Eventually, he stops talking, and silence falls in the room. It's quiet. Too quiet, even though there's muffled voices outside the room. Alan doesn't know what to do when it's quiet. In the Dark Place, there's always noise. The Taken stomp around. Some of them shuffle. They all say his name. The wind rattles what's left of the leaves in the trees. Car brakes screech, but who's driving the car? He hasn't explained this aspect of the Dark Place because it hasn't come up, but it's not a forest. It's a city. Dark, haunted, possessed... Neon lights glow in the distance, creating an eerie sort of backdrop. It's the perfect haunted playground for the Taken, on the hunt for a writer who's found himself alone.

.... So alone.

Alan's breath catches in his chest, coinciding with Jesse moving slowly, lifting her hands and placing one against both of his own. I'm not alone? Is this real? It's not a dream? In the relative silence, Alan's slow exhaled breaths can be heard as he tries to gather himself. Jesse's hands feel warm against his skin; figures in dreams don't feel warm, do they? Maybe it's in his head, but he feels as though he hasn't felt warm in years. Maybe longer than years. She's here. She's real.

He draws another shaky breath and he shudders involuntarily as he finally, finally allows himself to accept that she's really here. Oh, God, I hope she's really here. Please let this be real. Even if it's a loop, things that happen in the loops still feel real. Terrifyingly so, sometimes. But Alan wants this one thing to be real.

He sees her lean in closer, and feels her hands squeezing his. ] ... Jesse. [ Jesse. ] I'm- [ I'm not okay, but she knows that. She doesn't need to hear again how completely messed up I am. ] Great. Peachy. Just peachy.

[ I've never said "peachy" before. This place really is messing with my head. It's worse than I thought. ]

What about you? Are you okay? I- [ Should I tell her? Yeah, I'm going to tell her. I don't know why, but I think she needs to know that something's different, if she hasn't picked it up already. ]

I looked for you. Tried to find you. But I couldn't, for some reason. [ I thought you might be dead. I didn't want to think it, but- It was there.

And now it's Alan's turn for his gaze to lower, gray eyes shifting away as fear tugs at him again. He pauses for a second, and then he adds: ]

I did what you wanted me to. [ It's there. It's in the story. Edited in. It just has to play out that way now. Like scenes from a movie. We just have to get to that point. Wait, I have something. I was keeping it for her.

It's folded up in the pocket of his jeans, and he has to briefly pull one hand away from Jesse in order to get it. It's wrinkled and one corner has a tear in it, but the writing on it can still be seen. It's a typewritten page, but what makes it more notable is the deep pen scratch marks that are all over it.

The scratch marks aren't orderly at all; they're erratic and uneven, and it looks as though it was done in a rush. Alan's scrawled writing is equally rushed and uneven, but the words can still be read without too much trouble. There's certain parts where the letters look like they were written with a shaking hand and a wobbling pen, as if the writer was taken by a fit of... of something. There's even a hole in the page where it looks like the point of the pen tore through the paper with the force with which it was written on.

Names, words, events... they're all scribbled down on the edited page. It's not a neat job by any means, but Alan had to take something that was written and alter it. He had to make it fit even though he was changing it. Expanding on it but still leaving it vague enough that something sinister didn't lash out in rage.

Whatever the case, Alan knows Jesse should see the page and how he changed it in order to fulfill the promise he made. ]

It's here if you want to see it. [ Well, it's not everything in entirety, as it's just one page out of many, but he hopes she realizes that there's more pages just like this one. This one is relevant because it's about them. He holds it out to her, wondering if she'll take it. ]

Edited 2023-11-03 08:55 (UTC)

[ Silence falls and she continues to watch him. Not eerily or in an overbearing way. Intently, worriedly. He was acting more like himself in the cell--until the brothers started up. Something they said got under his skin. Made whatever is going in his head worse.

« He's not drifting away. He's still here, but, not fully. More like he's distracted instead of wandering. In his head, I mean. »

Then, he speaks again. Her gaze lifts once more at the sound of her name and not formal title or surname. Her eyes light up ever so slightly, but, she still tries to temper her reaction.

Just in case.

Her eyebrows knit together. Peachy? ]

"Peachy." [ The corners of her lips tug, but the humor tone is more in her eyes. Of course, he doesn't mean it, but maybe seeing a lighter reaction will help. ] Maybe I'm a bit more than peachy. But, not much more.

[ Her fingers curl around his hand and wrist. Gently. Anything more than that might set him off. ]

I imagine Casey and Anderson wouldn't let you get far. [ Her gaze softens. ] We were held up at our monitoring site. We never got the tip that the FBI found you. Otherwise, we would of been here sooner.

[ Jesse drops her gaze to look over him again. Dried blood, some mud, signs of a fight. The Cult tried to do a number on him. Or, maybe he did a number to the Cult. Both things are possible even if she wants to believe Alan couldn't bring himself to do... whatever happened to cause so much blood.

What he says next stops her in her metaphoric tracks. Everything she was thinking comes to a sudden stop in her mind. Her eyes widen by a fraction and eyebrows raise. Breath catches in her throat. A small shake is in her hands. ]

...You did? [ Small, quiet, but not disbelief. Surprised.

Green eyes fall from his as she watches every movement his hand makes. She has seen his manuscript pages before. They match the page in the Panopticon. Same size, shape, even font face of the Typewritten Page. Some have been scratched out, or blocked by dried black liquid. This page, however, isn't exactly like the others.

It's torn. Violently scratched out. A hole from a pen tip.

Jesse starts at the top of the page and slowly makes her way down the page. Something is off about the way the unscratched out parts flow. It... doesn't seem like Alan's voice. The written in parts? Yes, those sound like Alan. Even the arrows pointing to when the written parts should be taking place. Those sound like the best selling author she knows and loves.

Her eyes move to the top of the page and read it once more. She can feel how the story is trying to alter things around them. The nudge--just like before--being there to try and get her to act in a way it wants her to. Except, this time, Jesse knows it's not the story. At least, not in the same way that it was for dealing with Hartman. The story is changing because of what they wanted. They demanded this of the story. The one thing that can be theirs despite all the horror going on.

She raises one shaking hand to touch the hand written words. She's never seen Alan's physical writing before--never touched it. It's real, and he really did write it in. Like he said he would. He kept his promise. Did he want to? Was he upset at having to do it, and that's why the page has a hole in it and uneven writing?

« He really wrote it. Like he said he would. Despite everything... he... when was the last time someone kept their promise to me? The last time outside of orders and their job. A promise to me. » ]

...you really did...

[ Most people might say it's obvious he did, as the evidence is in her hands. Or maybe that she is overreacting. But to Jesse Faden? It's proof of someone to believe. Someone who will keep their word in a world that never took hers seriously. Someone to trust with those things that are closest to her, underneath the walls and levels of control.

« Alan really did it. »

She blinks and inhales unevenly. Another blink and she knows it's unstoppable now. That last guarded wall finally comes down. Her vision clouds, and she can feel the warm water start to roll down her cheeks. No tucking her head to the side, darting her eyes away. She keeps them on the page in her trembling hands.

Perhaps, for the first time, Alan Wake is seeing that ordinary woman buried behind walls and control. The girl who played in a dump and lost everything over the span of a few weeks. Who became a woman filled with distrust and paranoia, unable to make a connection like this to anyone. ]

OCEANVIEW II

🕯 reunion.

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— morning.

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— meeting.

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