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

( 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. 】

[ 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. ]

[ 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. 】

[ That's one of the first things that Alan notices: the dirt that's covering her and the way her clothes seem to be dripping water. Whatever she's been doing, it hasn't been fun. He imagines he can't look any better, what with the bloodstained flannel and dirt and sweat and who knows what else clinging to him.

I mean exactly what it sounds like! We just dealt with a wave of Taken, and that kept us busy throughout the night. I know what I asked you to do, and- the Clicker's still important, but...

Alan sighs audibly, even through the connection, but he has to admit even to himself that snapping at Saga isn't the right thing to do.

Look, could you just hold onto it for a few more hours? I don't mind meeting with you. I can probably get away while the agents are still cleaning up and documenting everything.

He hopes he can, anyway. Agents like Estevez are far too vigilant, and that's not even getting started with Steve and Jesse.

I just need an hour. Or two hours. Get a coffee or something, and then I'll meet you there.

If all goes well, anyway. ]

[ Saga notes his appearance as well. It looks similar to how she saw him when the FBC took him. Which means that's either how he sees himself, or they haven't done anything to try and offer him comfort or unshellshock him. She can't say she's surprised, just more annoyed at the other agency. ]

【 Oh. YOU dealt with a wave of Taken? I was in another Overlap, Wake. I fought your Dark Place, a Taken... and saved my Grandpa. 】 [ Saga gets quiet for a moment before she's on the other side of Alan, continuing her circle motion. Profiling. Examining. ] 【 Two hours? Does my daughter have two hours with this horror story you've made? Can she WAIT that long? I---wait. 】

[ She stops then and flickers in front of him. Her attention is pulled behind her, bushy ponytail covering the back of her head. Sound echos. THUD. Shouting, barking of orders.

Then, an inaudible vibration. Loud despite the sound being gone. More like a frequency? Saga's eyebrows turn up at the sudden blast of what feels like pure energy going through her Mind Place and the space she connects to Alan in.

The connection is cut.

Her attention is drawn back to the front office around her. Estevez is shouting at other agents and down on her knee next to the woman who called herself Director. The woman is clutching her head, bent over, head nearly touching the floor. Another agent--military looking--is down beside her as well.

Things happen in quick succession and Saga can barely keep up.

Another wave of energy strikes her. The military agent's attention is on Saga. He's rushing at her, grabbing her by the arm and shoving her against the wall. Estevez is shouting again. Chaos seems to erupt. ]

Let go of--ow! [ Saga is pushed up against the wall further by the agent. ]

[ Alan's response is already formed and on the tip of his tongue when something strange seems to happen. Well, something stranger, anyway. The definition of "something strange" seems to have changed a few times by now, and just keeps on changing.

One second, Saga is there snapping at him, and with good reason. Even Alan can admit that. But the next second, she's gone, and Alan's connection to Saga's Mind Place is gone as well. He stirs on the couch, still stubbornly clinging to sleep, even though his mind is alert and trying to claw its way back to the waking world. Something is going on, something not good, and he needs to wake up.

Alan's eyes abruptly snap open and he jolts awake with a gasp. ] What the hell-?

[ The noises outside the sheriff's office send Alan into full alert. What's happening? Shit, this sounds bad. He swings his legs over the side of the couch and stands up, crossing to the door as quickly as he can. He pulls it open and sticks his head outside. ]

What's goin- [ The question dies before he can finish it, as his eyes have just landed on the sight of someone on the floor. No, not just someone. Jesse. ]

What the hell is going on here?

[ Finally, Alan manages to voice the entire question even as he's crossing over to where Jesse's still bent over on the floor. ]

[ « It hurts. Why does it hurt? It's not supposed to hurt. Why? You've never hurt me before! Stop, please, I can't-- »

Everything seems like the volume has been turned up to twenty-four on a dial that was only made for eleven. It's not the normal sounds being amplified like footsteps or yelling. All of that has been drowned out. It's just... sound. Polaris. Vibrating. Almost like she's screaming in Jesse's head. Screaming to drown something else out.

It wasn't this way with the Hiss. It was a battle back and forth. A cancelling out. This isn't that. Polaris is trying to overpower something--push it out. Get it out.

Get what out?

« You're not like this with the Board, or Darling, or Trench, or even Alan... why? Make it stop. PLEASE. Just stop it! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, whatever I did--make it STOP! Just make it STOP!

I'm scared. »

Her forehead is pressed to the floor, both hands on either side of her head, covering her ears. Pressing hard. She's shaking, and not from the waves of energy that seem to roll off her. Pained sounds manage their way out, but they sound muted, quiet, barely audible.

Steve has Saga pushed against the wall and shouting at her not to make another move. Estevez looks up at Alan, telling him to step back. No one seems to know what is going on. They were talking and then suddenly Jesse was on the floor in pain. The only one who seems to know what direction to take is Steve, and perhaps that's because of something else feeding into him.

« I can't feel anything. All I can hear is you, and I can't even hear YOU right--stop it. Polaris, STOP IT. I can't understand you! »

It's never happened before. She can always understand Polaris, even before their bond deepened. So, why now, does Polaris refuse to properly share what is going on?

The sound suddenly mutes out. Everything stops. The pain dulls.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

One of Jesse's hand reaches forward as if she's trying to grasp onto something that's not physically in the room with the rest of them.

Ring. Ring Ring.

< OUR FAVORITE DIRECTOR/PLAYMATE. AN EMERGENCY/DANGER/WEE-WOO. >

Jesse looks around at the room that's not really a room and is pure white. Minus the black marble features everywhere. Her eyes move upwards to the ever present black pyramid. The Board. She feels her expression fall. That's why she can't feel Polaris now. She's in the Astral Plane.

Well, her mind anyways.

< UNAUTHORIZED USE OF THE HOTLINE/PHONE DETECTED. ENEMY PRESENCE MAKING THE RESONANCE/FRIEND UPSET. WE RECOMMEND YOU REMOVE THE THREAT/NOSEY PERSON IMMEDIATELY. >

"Nose-y person"? What the hell are you talking about?

< HOTLINE/PHONE IS MEANT FOR THE BOARD TO CONTACT DIRECTOR/CHOSEN ONE. UNWANTED PEOPLE/SOLICITORS ARE NOT ALLOWED. >

So... is that anyone you don't like, or now anyone that tries to contact me?

< UNWANTED PERSON/SOLICITOR POKES HER NOSE/SNOOT WHERE IT DOES NOT BELONG. FRIEND/RESONANCE HAS CANCELLED OUT THIS TIME. IF DIRECTOR/PLAYER ONE CONTINUES TO REFUSE TO HANDLE THE SITUATION, THE BOARD/US WILL INTERVENE/HACK. >

Hang on! I didn't say I was going to refuse to do... whatever it is you want me to do. I don't even know what's happening! You jerked me into the Astral Plane!

Jesse's outstretched hand begins to shake. The Service Weapon forms immediately. Estevez jumps up.

Polaris shimmers.

Steve seems to react to something. Both arms wrap around Saga and he literally hauls the yelling FBI agent out the front doors. Just in time as it looks like the Service Weapon was shifting to fire.

< THREAT REMOVED/INTERVENED. GIVE UNDERLING/TOP-GUN LL THE CONGRATULATIONS/PAY-RAISE. THE BOARD ADVISES DIRECTOR/FAVORITE ONE TO KEEP THE SOLICITOR/SNOOP OUT. >

Jesse suddenly gasps as her eyes refocus. Her senses seem dulled out still, but the pain has at least started to lessen. Her eyes stare at the floor in front of her.

She feels herself fall to her side. It feels slow, as if she is either being played on a slowed down video or an out of body experience. Like she knows it's her falling, but it doesn't feel like her as well.

« Red...? Why what's red on the floor? Is that--blood? From where? » ]

Edited 2023-11-09 18:01 (UTC)

[ Alan moves back when Estevez tells him to, but not by much. Something's wrong, and he doesn't know what the hell it is. One minute, things seemed as normal as they could in a place and a situation like the one they're all in. The next minute, all hell broke loose.

He's dimly aware of Steve and Saga shouting back at each other, arguing, but all he's focused on is Jesse. He doesn't know what to do; is Polaris overwhelming her for some reason? Is it the Dark Presence? Scratch? What the hell?

Maybe it looks odd to anyone watching, but Alan stands up, turns around, and goes back into the office long enough to grab the pillows from the couch and brings them back over to where Jesse is on the floor. If she has a seizure or collapses more than she already is, he doesn't want her getting hurt.

He sees Jesse's hand move, but there's nothing there. She's grabbing at nothing. It's pure speculation, pure assumption, but the look on her face that isn't just a look of sheer pain is distant. Far away. She's seeing something else. Maybe she's gone somewhere else. Gone where? I don't think I can call her back.

He holds out a hand slowly, not going all the way to reach out and touch Jesse. What if I make it worse?

He freezes because something has just formed in Jesse's hand. A gun. Not just any gun, either. It's the gun Jesse used against the Taken, and now that Alan's seeing it, he's certain it's no ordinary weapon. It's dangerous. Powerful. It has to be, if Jesse can use it. Is that why Steve pulled Saga out of the room? Can I-

Alan's thoughts come to a halt when he hears Jesse gasp. He feels his hand shaking and he clenches it into a fist to stop it. ]

...Jesse? [ His own voice sounds scared, and his nerves aren't eased in the least when he sees her falling slowly to the side. Of course he doesn't react in time to catch her, but he just barely manages to shove the pillows beneath her, hoping they cushion her fall even a little.

This is bad. This is really bad. Shit- She's bleeding.

Alan's hand is still outstretched but stopped as though he's afraid to touch her and set off another attack. Maybe if I don't actually touch her, just... just try to stop the bleeding.

He pulls off the flannel shirt and looks it over trying to find an area that's cleaner than the rest. It takes a minute, but he finds a spot that looks serviceable, and he folds it up carefully and presses it first to her ear, counts out a minute in his head, and then shifts it to press against her nose. She's lying on the other ear, so he can't reach that one, and he's afraid to move her to do it.

I should be doing more. This doesn't feel like enough. But what more can I do?

He's no doctor or paramedic, but he can't just leave her lying there bleeding. ]

Edited 2023-11-09 18:16 (UTC)

Where's Samuels? I need a medic here! [ Estevez is back to barking orders and taking account for everyone's positions. Director on the ground, Sevestapol and Agent Anderson outside, Wake--where the hell did he slide off to? She is about to get someone to take account, but he's back with pillows and taking off the blood soaked flannel.

Estevez pauses, watching as Wake kneels back down beside the Director. Pillows underneath, shirt attempting to stop some sort of hemorrhage. She glances back and forth between the two. Something clicks in her head then, even if it makes no damn sense. None of this AWE does. Hell, the one in 2010 didn't either.

She kneels back down by the Director's back. Her eyes stare evenly at Wake. ] Look, Wake. I'm going to need to know everything you do later. I'm not going to be left in the dark and I need to make sure my team can operate. Especially if the Director--

[ Estevez stops as Jesse raises one trembling hand as if to signify she is alright and still with them. The field agents is about to protest, but sees how the Director's hand lowers onto Wake's forearm. Estevez leans back as if her suspicions were just confirmed. ]

Hey! I said we need Samuels!

[ Green eyes raise to lock onto Alan's gray ones. She heard him say her name, but everything still feels... numb. Distant. The world isn't in slow motion now, and the pain is a dull pulling ache in her head. She tells parts of her body to move, but they seem to either be unresponsive or slow to the action.

Her eyes move up as she hears someone else rush over and kneel by her head. The man she can't identify places his hands on either side of her head, directing Alan and Estevez to move her onto her back. Jesse does what she can to comply, because she hates the idea of not being in control of her own body. The man pulls out a small flashlight and directs her to follow it. Jesse winces slightly at the brightness suddenly, but manages to do as she's told, if nothing but sheer force of will.

« What's going on? » ]

Psychic trauma, [ The man know as Samuels says it as if it's entirely normal. Yet, in their line of work, it really is. ] I don't have the tech here to do a full scan, but she seems responsive enough. Best we can do is let her rest and recover with what daylight we have. Not the best answer, but, better than nothing.

Shit. [ Estevez sighs and rubs her forehead. ] Any idea what from?

Hard to say when we don't know what would of happened. Could be she just is too drained from setting up the control points, the fight last night. Anything could of gotten through if a parautalitarian is that drained. [ Samuels sends a sly glance to Wake. ] I don't recommend any spot here in the Sheriff's Station, Estevez. Any residual energy might trigger it again. Motel is further out as I doubt the Lodge is open after the banana shit from the Cult the other night.

Okay. I'll make a call. Wake! [ Estevez waits until the Writer looks back at her. ] Given the Director is down? I'm in charge. Are you able to look over her until night? I get the feeling that you'd be the person she'd ask. Sevastopol is going to have his hands full with our FBI "friend." Speaking of, [ She turns to another field agent, ] I want Agent Anderson in a cell until she cools off. Search her, strip her of the weapons. When she's level headed we'll try this again.

[ Jesse blinks a few times as she covers bits and pieces of the conversation. Anderson is under arrest? Estevez is trusting her to Alan? That's a change from last night.

『 "No. No, you're not doing that to her. I- I refuse to accept it. I have to change the story. This can't be the story! I promised her I'd..." 』

Her eyes narrow slightly as the memory of narration comes to her mind, but she can't tell if it was the Hotline. Maybe it's just her own memory. Everything is... well it's not fuzzy, but it feels like she's wading through mud in her own head.

« Is this what he was trying to change? What was going to happen? » ]

Edited 2023-11-10 05:26 (UTC)

[ Alan's mind is spinning with fearful thoughts and the horrible feeling that once again, everything is his fault. Again? It's always been his fault. The story is terrible, and it's dragged in so many people along the way- no, he dragged them all in. Used them. Even killed some of them. Too many of them, if he's being honest.

Whatever's going on with Jesse, it feels to Alan as though it's his fault. Somehow, whatever happened is because of him. Because of something he wrote. Or did Scratch write it and he edited it? Does it even matter, if people still get hurt even with his edits?

But before he can spiral away too far, even as he tries to do what he can to feel as though he's doing more than causing harm, Estevez addresses him, and he focuses back on her. ]

Yeah. Yeah, I'll tell you- [ He freezes and cuts himself off midsentence when he feels Jesse's hand on his arm. Fear still has Alan in its grasp, but he feels just the smallest amount of relief when he sees her move and feels her touch. He was afraid that he was going to lose her again. Maybe permanently this time. He can't unwrite death. That's the one reality he can't change.

For just a second, Alan lowers his head forward and closes his eyes as he tries to push down that fear that's still holding onto him. She's alive. She's not dead. Not dying. You didn't kill her. You DIDN'T kill her.

A second later, he opens his eyes again and his gaze locks in on Jesse's in return. She's alive. She's ALIVE. The words keep repeating in his mind like a mantra to keep the fear from getting worse. Except it's not really working, as Alan still feels terrified.

He doesn't look away, not even for a second, even as he follows the orders Samuels gives him and Estevez. He just watches as Samuels does his examination, and listens as he relays his conclusions about Jesse's condition. It doesn't sound good, but it's not completely hopeless either. And all Alan knows is that he intends to take care of her as best as he can.

Then Estevez is making her announcement about what she intends to do, which is to take charge while Jesse is down for the moment. She asks Alan a question, and he nods immediately. ]

I'll do it. I'll watch over her. [ It's the least I can do, after everything. ] I'll make sure she rests.

[ I'll do whatever I have to, until she can get back on her feet. He looks back at Estevez with the most determined look he can manage. And considering the strange mixed up combination of guilt and fear and the need to make up for all the harm he's caused, Alan's expression is very determined indeed. He can't explain it, but he feels as though he has something to prove: to Estevez, to the other FBC agents, to himself... He can't prove anything if he lets his fear pull him down.

Jesse needs him to be himself, to be awake, and it's that thought, more than anything else, that pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. ]

So, the motel, right?

[ It better be safe. At least, as safe as it's possible to be. How far away is it? How will I reach them if I need to? How- Stop. Stop overthinking. They have this under control. I think.

Alan's gaze shifts back to look at Jesse where she's at on the floor. He might not be confident in very much, but he knows one thing one thing: he has to keep it together or he won't be any use to Jesse at all. I will keep it together. I have to. ]

[ Her mind may feel like it's scattered. It may feel like thinking is like wading through mud. But, the second she sees Alan lower his head? Her hand on his arm presses down. It's more like brushing along his skin at her current state, but, she's trying to communicate she's still there for him. No drifting off--no letting waves pull him away.

« Alan. Look at me. I'm going to be fine. I survived the Hiss, didn't I? » She thinks she says the words, but, maybe she didn't. It might be in her own mind--words she's trying to communicate through her eyes.

Jesse's gaze drifts as best as it can once Estevez speaks, then Samuels, then Estevez again. Alan speaks up and her eyes immediately move back to him. Her gaze softens at his tone. She's only heard that tone a few times in all of their shared time through these seemingly endless loops. Determined. Somehow, despite all the problems, all his self-loathing, and the fact he can be an asshole? Jesse finds that determination uniquely Alan. It's... not like a superhero's resolve. A normal man who is trying everything he has to do the right thing even when the world (and himself) fights him.

« That's him--the Alan Wake that I know. »

The man that defeated an alien presence, saved the world, and his wife...even if the core of it was a selfish motive. He did seemingly the impossible, and despite the scars it left him? He's still trying. Jesse can only really imagine what he was like during that battle, but she likes to think she sees glimpses of that man now and then. This time happens to be one of them.

« You know? I wish I had met him then. We--well, we wouldn't be like we are now. He probably wouldn't have looked twice at me. But, it would of been nice. I... it just would have been nice to know I wasn't the only person like me back then. »

Maybe some of that shines through her gaze when Alan looks back to her.

Estevez shakes her head at the pair,standing and pulling out her cellphone. ] Yeah. Let me make the call and pull some strings. We're pretty familiar with the family that runs it.

[ Samuels motions for Alan to move to the side. ] We'll need to get a stretcher so the Director is moved as little as possible. Mr. Alan Wake, right? Glad you're on our side, if you're really a parautalitarian. The wife is a big fan of the books...

[ The rest of the conversation and the next set of events seems more like a blur for Jesse. She's aware when they slide her onto the stretcher and then lift it to get in what she presumes is a van, but it's hard to keep track of it all as the steady pounding keeps up in her head. At some point she realizes her hand is no longer on Alan's arm, and part of her worries that he's going to not be him whenever they cross paths again.

The pounding continues even as she feels as if she's traveling. Then, through it, she feels that familiar gentle presence in her mind. She wouldn't describe it as hesitant, but it does feel as if Polaris is being careful about how to "speak" to her amplifier.

« Did I lose you for a second...? Sorry, it's always hard to hear you in the Astral Plane... even if the Board seemed more willing to work with you this time... are you okay? Why did you do that? You've NEVER acted like that before. I... just, next time, tell me what's wrong, okay? I can't do anything if you don't tell me what it is. So, what happened? »

Polaris shifts.

« Someone was trying to get in? I don't understand. I receive messages on the Hotline all the time. Even Alan sent them to me--you didn't mind when he did, and he was in the god damn Dark Place. What makes "trying to get in" different? »

Polaris shifts again.

« You mean someone was trying to enter my mind? See things that I keep locked up? Who could of done that? No one we know is... Agent Saga Anderson? How? She's not---oh, god. It was her? Why? Aren't we on the same side? Did she even know that's what she was doing? HOW did she do that? »

Waterfall.

That sound in particular gathers her attention for some reason. Jesse opens her eyes only to realize they had closed at some point. There is an unfamiliar ceiling above her, an unfamiliar bed, and room. She turns her head slowly to look around it. It's definitely a motel room, but not one from the Oceanview or one she knows. It doesn't even feel like the one she has the hazy memories of from another loop. The first loop.

She gingerly pushes herself up. A moment later she has her head in hands to try and regain her center of balance. She's in just the tank top and pants now, which means they must of gotten rid of the other clothing.

« Bloodstains. That's always a good sign. Let me make sure I have this right. Anderson did... something, trying to get in my head. You pushed her out--almost violently. That tripped off the Board, somehow? They threatened to take over to eliminate any threat. I wouldn't think Anderson is that powerful, so maybe it's something else... »

Polaris shimmers and Jesse's eyes focus on the bed beneath her.

« The story? How does that make any sense? We have to follow it to some degree anyways. All of us--even Alan. Why would Anderson doing that ... oh, shit. Is that what Alan meant by what he said? Something bad would have happened. Really bad. Oh, God.

Alan. Wait, where is he? Do you know? »

Jesse raises her head to look around the room, realizing her hair has come undone and falls around her head. She imagines it's another agent with her. Probably Steve. He hovers like a dad sometimes. He hands rest between her legs as she tries to get a better idea of her bearings. What motel room, where, when? How long has she been out? The sun is still up--so that means it hasn't been too long.

Polaris then reaches out. A gentle brush against the Writer's mind, in that familiar voice that sounds just a little like Jesse's, but really isn't.

Alan. ]

Edited 2023-11-10 07:50 (UTC)

[ It might be just a touch, a brushing of her hand against her skin, but to Alan, it feels like so much more. Jesse grounds him, pulls him from the waves when the tide comes in to take him away. Even now when she has more right than anyone to be drowning, she's still managing to bring him back. Is- Is this what inspiration feels like? Encouragement? She brings me back, and I try to bring her back? But she does it better than I do every time.

Still, even as that small thought of doubt enters his mind, he looks at her, eyes fixed on hers, because even if he's drifting, he knows where he wants to be: right there with her. For her. Encouraging her like she's done for him. How many times now? I don't know, but it's my turn now. It's my turn to walk into the fire or the shadows or whatever the hell it is to pull her out.

In his mind, he's back in the Well-Lit Room again, preparing to dive into the lake for the first time.

Except this time, it's not the lake he's diving into. It's into a hypothetical fight with anything that might put an end to what he's found with Jesse. There are forces out there much bigger than him, and whatever was going on with her (what did Samuels call it? Psychic trauma?), he knows now that he'd walk right into a fight with them with whatever ammunition he has if it meant keeping her with him. ]

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the FBC has strings to pull even here. [ He smirks, but it's an impressed one. Naturally, it makes sense that the agency would have connections, and maybe it shouldn't impress him at all, but it just does.

But then the pieces move again and Jesse's carefully loaded onto a stretcher and into a van, and Alan follows. Samuels and another field agent go with them to monitor Jesse on the way, giving Alan the opportunity to just sit back and watch. And watch he does. He can't reach for Jesse's hand, as she's temporarily out of his reach because of the available space in the van, but his fingers curl as if he's holding her hand anyway.

The motion of the van as it travels along the road is steady and even though Alan does his best to remain awake, keeping his gaze on what he can see of Jesse, he finds himself lightly dozing on the way to the motel. But once the van comes to a stop and Samuels sets to work seeing Jesse transported from the vehicle and into the motel, Alan snaps back to attention. He tries to stay out of the way while not moving too far in case his help is needed with anything, but Samuels has it under control.

They exchange a few more words before Samuels heads off in the van: instructions about what to watch for in case Jesse has any lingering issues following the traumatic event she's just gone through and things Alan can do if an emergency situation arises. Before he goes on his way, Samuels leaves his cell number and a burner cell phone so he can reach him if he needs to call for help.

He goes to check on Jesse one more time before departing, and satisfied that the Director is in as comfortable a position as possible for her recovery, he gives Alan a brief reminder of what to do and then heads off back to the van.

With the room quiet now and Jesse resting on the bed (hopefully asleep, if the way her chest rises and falls and the sound of her quiet breathing is any indication), Alan finds himself unsure what he should do now. After a moment, he decides to head to the bathroom and make use of the shower there. Maybe if he can rid himself of the dirt and blood and clean himself up a little bit, he'll feel better. He won't let himself take long, because he wants to be there to watch over Jesse like he said he would, but the idea of finally getting a real shower is too tempting for him to resist.

He sheds the clothes that have clearly seen better days, grateful that the field agents provided him with something else to wear that isn't bloodstained and covered in dirt. And then he steps into the shower and lets out a long sigh of relief as the warm water washes over him. But with the warmth of the water comes awareness of just how stiff and sore he is. Joints ache from constantly being on the move. His entire left side seems to burn with a sharp pain from where he was struck by the Taken, the skin already darkening to form a large-sized bruise that spreads well over his rib cage.

But he does his best to ignore it all, or at least compartmentalize it. A bruise, large or small, is nothing compared to what he imagines Jesse must have felt and is feeling. Caring for her is his focus, even as he takes this time to shower and clean himself off.

He's nearly finished showering when he registers a brush against his mind. It's not poking or prodding or incessant, not in the way that Saga's attempt to reach him was. It's gentle but enough that he notices it instantly.

Alan.

It's Jesse's voice, but with key differences. There's a resonance to it, and not just any one either: it's one he knows well by now. Or at least, he should. Drawn by the voice, he steps out of the bathroom, towel in hand to further dry his hair and wearing a pair of sweatpants that he was provided with. The matching shirt is still on the bathroom counter, Alan having forgotten to put it on when he felt that gentle brush that drew his attention.

He looks around the room once, and his gaze is instantly drawn to the redhead sitting up on the bed. A whole mess of feelings rise up inside Alan all at once: love and concern are the strongest, of course, but there is also an undercurrent of fear because of what happened and of how it could have gone so completely wrong if even one thing had been different.

The bad end. Something I refused to let happen. The horror story asserting itself?

And mingled with that is a chastisement, a disapproving lecture directed at himself for almost letting such a thing happen. Of course, none of that matters, not when the only thing- the only person who matters in this moment is sitting up on the bed. Alan crosses from the doorway to her side as quickly as he can, but he pauses before he can get too close.

Any residual energy might trigger it again. That's what Samuels said. What if I accidentally set something off? I don't know how I would, but I could do it by accident.

Alan wants to step in closer so he can take Jesse's hands in his, but he stands back from the bed, his worry plainer on his face than he would like. ]

Hey... sleepyhead. [ He knows his voice sounds worried too, but he can't help that. In hopes of reassuring himself and making her smile in return, he offers her the brightest smile he can manage. It's easy, even with his worry for her, because she makes him want to smile at her all the time, even in the middle of this story that has far too many dark turns. ]

How are you feeling?

[ Her fingers gently run over one temple as she tries to put everything in order. Wrapping her head around what Polaris has told her is still... weird. Even for them. Was it how the story was supposed to go and Alan changed it? Or, was the story trying to change around his edits? Can it even do that?

« I guess we should ask how these rules of this story work. Or, at least, what counts for rules if there are any. Especially if it's going to fight us every step of the way. Maybe it's more accurate to say we're fighting it? Alan said he fought it just to put us back into it.. »

Hey... sleepyhead.

Her attention immediate snaps up from her thoughts to the sound of his voice. They let him stay with her? What did Alan do to impress so much on Estevez? Steve isn't here, which means something else needed him. Something serious. That part of her that just drives to be the Director screams that she needs to know what is going on with her people. But, the rest of her just feels tired.

« Sleepyhead? Really? »

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips before her green eyes move over to him. Her head leans back slightly, as if trying to look better than she feels. ]

Hey.

[ Her hands settle between her legs again.

« How am I feeling? Everything feels heavy and I have the most annoying pulsing headache. Also... vertigo? Yeah. It's hard to sit up right. » ]

Peachy. [ A playful look enters her eyes, even if she does look exhausted. Weighed down by a pain she really couldn't describe properly. ] Just peachy.

[ Jesse's gaze drops to look him over. First, she notes how far away he is, and that's definitely going to have to change. Sweatpants... oh, he was in the shower. Good, because she would of told him to take one to get everything off him. Mud, dirt, sweat, blood. She still needs to ask about the blood too. God, there's too much, and all she wants to do is be with him for now.

Be them.

She notes the large bruise on his side. Her eyebrows knit slightly. When did he get that? It could of been when the Cult jumped the Lodge, or last night during their skirmish with the Taken. That doesn't even count in the fact he probably hasn't eaten--wasn't he asleep before?

Oh, God. Did all that in the Sheriff's Station wake him up?

« Right. That decides that. We only have so much time to rest before... whatever the hell is coming next. Everything else we can go over while we do that. Talk and be us at the same time. I think we can manage that. »

Jesse raises her hand as best she can and stretches it out towards him.

An invitation. ]

I'm guessing you're still peachy too. [ She nods her head to the side as best as she can. Laying back down sounds really good right now. ] Clean and peachy.

[ « That... sounded better in my head. Which might not be the best measurement of choices at the moment. » ]

It looks like we have a few hours to ourselves. So... may as well make the best of it. [ She hesitates for a brief moment, more out of shyness than anything. Which is probably the stupidest thing for her to feel when they've slept together. Well, did--didn't? Doesn't matter. ] Come on. Let's just lay down for a bit. Okay?

[ Alan's not afraid of her, but he's afraid of hurting her. Afraid of causing more damage. Why is it that damage always seems to be right behind him? Sometimes it's even in front of him, paving the way for... for the horror story from hell. Yeah, that sounds about right.

The slight boost to his confidence that he received when Estevez, of all people, extended a small olive branch in the form of surprise at how well he'd done during the long fight with the Taken has faded somewhat in the aftermath of Jesse's collapse. Instead of confidence, there's uncertainty and doubt; not doubt in Jesse or what she can do, but doubt in himself. But she doesn't need to know that any more than she needs to see that in him.

So he just chooses to offer smiles and try to be as reassuring as he can. And in all honesty, seeing her sitting up and hearing her talk to him is really all the reassurance he needs.

The relief he feels at seeing her, even though she is clearly tired and absolutely still needing recovery, is almost enough to make him forget his own exhaustion. It's bound to catch up to him, but for now, all he can feel is relief. ]

That makes two of us, then. [ What do you call a can of peaches that only has two peaches in it? That sounds like a bad joke. But it might make her laugh. I'll save it for later, though. ]

Do you need me to get you anything? [ His eyes travel to her hand that's outstretched. Inviting him to step closer. If only he could shake off the lingering fear of causing her harm if he gets too close. Maybe just holding her hand won't do anything. Maybe. God, I hope it doesn't.

He slowly extends his own hand, carefully twining his fingers with hers, bracing himself for a repeat of what happened in the sheriff's station. But nothing seems to happen, and so he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. ]

I forgot what a real shower felt like. [ He admits that readily enough, feeling a little proud that he managed to do something as normal as shower without spiraling out again. ] But yeah, I'm great. Clean, peachy... great.

[ I'm worried as hell, but she doesn't need to know that. ]

Are you sure that it's okay? You- you've been through a lot in not a lot of time. [ I've been through a lot in too much time. I think. I guess we make a pair. ]

I told that agent- Estevez... I told her I'd look after you.

[ It's only in his imagination, but he pictures Estevez frowning with disapproval at the notion of Alan sliding next to Jesse and sharing the bed, when she's supposed to be resting under his watch. ]

Edited 2023-11-10 16:07 (UTC)

[ Her smile turns just a tad sad at his admission of forgetting what a real shower was like. She may never know everything the Dark Place took away from him. Memories and time for sure, but, it seems to be more the little normal things. Showering, eating, drinking, stopping for a moment.

« Well, we just need to help him remember. Don't we? »

Polaris shimmers.

Her fingers twine around his. She gives a small tug for him to come closer. He's too far away--not just physically. He isn't drifting and drowning in his own mind, but, Jesse wants that connection. Maybe now really shouldn't be the time, but, they weren't able to reconnect the previous night. Not in the way she wants as her heart pounds.

« I should tell him. So he knows the words and not just knowing it. I hope he won't turn away and leave if I do. What if he does? » ]

I'm fine. I've been through something worse. [ At least, in her mind, the Hiss burrowing in was worse. She's not sure she should tell him that. ] Polaris is fine too. I'd say "upset" if she used our emotions. Agitated, I guess. But, fine.

Well, you can watch over me here. In the bed. [ She says it as if it's obvious. He needs to rest too--maybe more than her. ] Neither of us can really fight tonight like this. So, we need to take what rest we can.

[ Her eyes flick down to the bruise on his side as if to demonstrate her point. Then, she's moving as best she can. Pulling back the blankets and sheets, sliding over for him to join her. She picks the side she does so he can lay on the side that isn't injured. Or, on his back, depending on what he wants.

Then, she slowly eases herself down. Her shoulder instantly relax the moment she feels the mattress. It's not as good as the one at home, but it's better than sleeping in the Sheriff's Station.

She pauses for a moment before bridging the gap between them. Timid, unsure, shy. Jesse doesn't like that any of those words describe her as she tries to seem natural about lowering her head to his shoulder. He hadn't made her awkward or unsure of it. It's just... her. How she is.

« He'll want to know what happened, won't he? It's not what I want to tell him. But, I guess, you can't just spring that on a person. I've... never told someone it. He's proposed and been married before. Not me. »

Jesse looks back up at him. Her fingers in his hand brush along his. Everything suddenly feels awkward to her, as if she's trying to understand what is okay and what isn't again. It didn't feel like this last night. Has she screwed up? Is she over thinking it? Is it just the fact she feels like there's mud in her head? ]

Polaris felt someone was trying to get in. Not in the same way the Hotline works. But... forcing their way in past defenses. Trying to dig in. [ She glances to the side as it obviously bristles against her own defenses. She doesn't let people in usually. There are walls and walls. Alan is one of the few she lowers those for. ] She... tried to drown them out--push them away. But, it was overwhelming. Like ... someone turning a dial up to twenty when it's only supposed to be ten. It triggered...

[ « Oh, shit. He doesn't know about the Board. Only you. Well... let's hope it's not too weird for him. » ]

The Director is chosen by ... a being--beings, maybe--known as the Board. They're the ones allow access to the Hotline... and my gun. Whatever this person was doing? They felt it was a hostile transmission through the Hotline. Threatened to take over and eliminate the threat if I didn't.

[ She looks down with a frown and gently shakes her head. It's obvious she's still missing pieces. Was it really Agent Saga Anderson? ]

Edited 2023-11-10 17:40 (UTC)

[ Alan's expression doesn't change, but a scream seems to echo in his mind. For just a second, he's transported back into a windowed room, and he hears the frustrated scream and the thud of a typewriter that's been hurled against the wall.

You're not there. You're here, you're out. You're OUT.

He feels her tugging at his fingers and he instantly leans into that touch, allowing himself to finally take a step forward, and then another until he's at the side of the bed. He doesn't want to drown; he doesn't want the waves to come back in and pull him out with them. He wants the connection between them again, and he's all too willing to open himself up to it. ]

Something worse? [ His expression sobers, and a sort of darkness falls over his eyes for a moment. He only has his frame of reference, but in his mind, "something worse" usually means something wild and feral, tearing at you and pulling away pieces of you until nothing's left. He hopes that's not the kind of "something worse" Jesse means. ]

You're really both all right? Whatever happened, it's- has that happened to you before?

[ He's grasping at what he can, trying to understand. Trying to take what he can learn to use it, in hopes that maybe someone can use the information to stop this from happening again. It probably won't be him. It'll most likely be Jesse herself, or Steve. Or Estevez. They have more experience than he does. He's just a man groping blindly in the dark and trying to make sense of it all. ]

All right. If you're sure. [ He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to join her in the bed. His own need for rest is pulling at his mind and his body but he's been pushing it away in the interest of being there for her. And, of course, the bruise on his side chooses that moment to twinge as if reminding him he hasn't come through it all unscathed either.

But in this moment, his well-being isn't at the forefront of his mind. No, he's focused on her and what she needs, and he watches closely as she moves to one side of the bed, moving the blankets and sheets so that he can get in next to her. It seems clear enough that she won't accept anything but him joining her in the bed, so he finally slides in beside her wincing briefly as he tries to position himself in a way that makes his bruised side hurt less.

In the end, he ends up lying down so that he's on his back but as close to her as he dares to get. He's close enough that she can rest her head against his shoulder, an action that makes him smile. Only then does he slide in a fraction closer, because he realizes he doesn't want there to be space between them. He doesn't want to jar her unnecessarily, as that only makes his side ache more, but he just wants to be with her. Touching her.

Finally, once he's satisfied with where he's positioned, he looks at her, worry still plain in his eyes. His fingers curl against hers, wanting to hold her hand tightly but still gently. ]

I know. Saga tried to reach me too, probably after it didn't work with you. [ But Saga's intrusion didn't affect him the same way. He knows it didn't, and it bothers him that the FBI agent is responsible for Jesse being down for the count. ]

I- Did it feel like that when I tried to reach you? [ She's never said that it did, and he remembers saying that Polaris didn't flare up in defense, but now he wonders. Was that really the way it went? Did Polaris react and he didn't realize it?

But then his smile fades and a look of confusion crosses his face. ]

The Board? I've never heard of them. Of course, why would I? I'm guessing most people don't know a thing about them. Wait. Wait.

[ No. I do know something. Maybe not anything concrete. Maybe nothing that makes sense, but- ]

I know this. There was a threat. And- and... [ Alan's voice shakes and he feels himself start to shake too. ] I changed it.

[ "No. No, you're not doing that to her. I- I refuse to accept it. I have to change the story. This can't be the story! I promised her I'd..."

The words echo in Alan's mind and his frown deepens as snippets of memories enter and exit his mind and he tries to turn those snippets into something whole. But first things first, he has one thing he has to say before he gets too distracted and forgets about it. ]

Jesse, I'm sorry. [ He's apologized before, but now it feels different. ] I'm sorry that I brought you into this.

No. I mean... at least, not like this. [ Jesse frowns and glances down again, eyes seemingly scanning things at random as she thinks.

Should she tell him? What will his reaction be? Will he just find a way to blame himself? It wasn't his fault. Not even this is his fault. But, somehow, Alan finds a way to blame himself for everything wrong around him. Why? Did someone always tell him that? Or, is it because of the Dark Place? Has it wormed into his mind so much he thinks he's screwed up everything?

He almost screwed up with them. Almost. He's fixed it now, so in her mind, he's redeemed it. Made good on his promise. Proven she can trust him even with something that deeply important to her. Maybe he doesn't remember the conversation about Ordinary and what happened to her--but he remembered them. That's what matters the most at the moment.

« Saga. So, it was Anderson. Why? What was she... is it just because I wouldn't tell her where Alan is? She's that unhinged? » ]

No, it didn't. [ Her answer is immediate to his question. ] Polaris didn't do anything to stop it or reject it. It was just... like any other Hotline message. With the extra tug of reality. Maybe strained and feeling far away, but, I figured that was because of the Dark Place.

[ He begins to shake and her hand immediately tightens around his. Just in case he starts to dip below the waves. So, that was what he changed. That exact moment in time. Something really would have happened--something terrible. Maybe it was Saga that would have died. Maybe it was her. Maybe both? Whatever the outcome would have been, she can tell it truly did frighten Alan.

How many things has he seen in the Dark Place that he'll never describe? ]

Would things be any better if I wasn't here? [ Jesse shakes her head slightly. Maybe it's her own self-indulgence, but, she feels things would be much, much worse. ] It's fine, Alan. Somethings are worth seeing the nightmares in the world.

[ Her gaze drops to their entwined hands. She likes it--more than she should. She never thought there'd be someone she could connect to like this. It was a thought and a dream at one point. Finding someone she could be herself with. Not that it ever lasted long... until the point she just gave up. Dylan was more important; finding him was consuming. What else did she have in her life?

Now she has the Bureau. Purpose, direction, Polaris with her. And... Alan, if he'd accept the notion. ]

Like the sound of poison gas leaking in. Invading, hissing.

[ She blinks a few times at the memory of it happening. It had to happen. Hedron couldn't keep the Hiss at bay--not the way Jesse could. That still doesn't remove the trauma of it all. The horror of losing herself beneath waves and waves of thoughts and feelings. Having parts of her pulled up and dissolving in order to make her one of them. ]

There was ... a point when the Hiss overwhelmed everything in the Oldest House. They killed something called Hedron. The... she was what I am for Polaris now. When she died... it all came crashing down. The Hiss spread everywhere, into everyone. [ « Even me. » ] It was horror. Making you succumb to it's insistent, unstoppable, tune that you couldn't get out of your head. Forcing you to break--making you one of them. Going around, and around, and around in your own head... turning your worst parts of yourself into you... until it seemed like they were the better option. That being part of them made you feel free and home.

[ Her jaw sets to the side as her own hand shakes then. ]

Whatever Anderson was trying to do that set off Polaris and the Board? It hurt. But it was nothing like that hell.

Not like this? [ Alan frowns too as he watches the way Jesse's eyes scan around the room, settling on random objects and things as she seems to think.

What is she thinking? Alan can venture guesses, but while he can sometimes manage to read Jesse and her body language, there are other times when he hasn't a clue. His mind that is always far too active is spinning into overdrive, wondering what might be going through her head. Does she blame him somehow? Saga wanted to find him, but she went for Jesse first. That unwanted, unasked for intrusion is what set all of this off.

Is this my fault? He sighs in relief, at least a little, when Jesse quickly silences his worries about how it might have felt when he reached out to her, when she received his transmissions through the Hotline. If there had even been a chance that he caused harm to her and Polaris through those messages, well- he'd find it even harder to live with himself.

As it is, fear has Alan in its clutches again. Fear because of a memory that's surfaced, even though it's fragmented and vague and he's only seeing pieces of it. They died. The... the Board? They killed them. Why did it kill both of them? I don't- I can't remember. All I remember is changing it. I had to change it, to keep my promise. You can't keep a promise to someone if they're dead. Shit.

Instinctively, automatically, he responds to Jesse's tightening hold on his hand. She's alive, and he doesn't need to slip beneath the waves, not now. Everything's all right, or it will be. Until the next horror arises. But for now, for however long they have, they're all right. Safe. Together. It's enough.

But Jesse speaks again, and Alan's focus pulls immediately back to her. ]

No, they wouldn't be, but maybe you wouldn't be caught up in this mess. Maybe you'd be safe. Safer than you are here. I know this is my fault. I'm trying to fix it. [ The words sound automatic, like he's saying them by rote memorization. Maybe he is. People like Saga seem to keep coming at him demanding he fix what he's done. He's trying. He's trying as hard as he can.

But he silences again as she goes on talking. Talking about something that seems to have been from her past, but maybe not the too distant past? It's hard to tell. ]

The Hiss... The Hiss. [ A thought or a memory rises in Alan's mind then, and words form unbidden: You came and we let you in through the hole in you. A poem. Words from a shoebox. A chant, or something like it. ]

They got in. Or they already were in. [ Alan feels his expression shifting, a look of horror taking his face. How many times has he worn a look like that? It might as well be his face at this point. Is everything everywhere just a horror story? Is that all the world is, whether inside reality or out of it? Or in a different reality, in Alan's case?

I thought that maybe there was a chance that the world was going on normally outside the Dark Place. The world keeps turning, people keep going to work, having families, living their lives. Was I wrong? There's always an undercurrent of horror. Evil, dark forces always working where people can't see them, unless they know to look. And most people don't know to look. Is that good or bad?

... I was wrong.

The egg cracks and the truth will emerge out of you. You are home.

Alan feels Jesse's hand begin to shake and that feeling is what pulls him out of his thoughts, away from the horror that's seemingly washing over him again. His fingers curl against hers, tightening against them, hoping his touch reassures her in return. It might be a meaningless gesture when stacked against something as horrifying as the Hiss, but he does it anyway. ]

I didn't- I didn't know. [ And now that he does, he can't forget it. Doesn't want to forget it, even if the thought of it makes him want to run screaming. There's no running, not anymore. Not for him. There's only staying and fighting back. That's the only way to move forward, to grasp that ending that they're all striving for, whether they realize it or not. ]

I didn't know how bad it was. How bad it is.

[ He pauses. ]

The darkness really is everywhere, isn't it? [ It's not just the Dark Place. Not just the Dark Presence. And for the first time, Alan's realizing just how high the odds are stacked against all of them. It might seem like useless nuance, but they're all in this fight now, not just him. Would Jesse, Saga, the FBC, and everyone else who's been roped in be involved if not for him? It's hard for him to tell. But they're in, they're involved, and he has to keep fighting to one day put an end to all of this. ]

Edited 2023-11-11 22:33 (UTC)

[ No. Jesse blames Saga for her own actions. The agent was willingly to listen or to work with her. Instead, she went with an option that set off not only Jesse's internal defenses, but the ones found with the entity she's interwoven with. The ones that dictate what she does--or try to anyways. No one is responsible for Saga's actions other than Saga. Part of her wants to give the agent a piece of her mind.

« If you have these powers you can't just screw around with them like this. They're not TOYS. They're not just TOOLS to use. Using them has consequences for everyone involved. Obviously, she has no idea what these powers can do. I doubt she'd want to hear the lecture from anyone in the Bureau either. Still, we have to work together to stop this. There's no other way to beat this horror story.

Even if part of me just wants to react and make her feel what I did. That won't do any of us good. She won't learn or listen from that. She's stubborn, just like the rest of us. »

Her hand tightens around his in response. ]

People would be caught up in this mess. Estevez has been here longer than I've been the Director. Somehow, someway, we all have ties to this story, Alan. There's no point in apologizing for dragging each of us into it. There's better ways to spend our time.

[ She pauses and a smile tries to find its way to her face. ] I know you are. No one else may realize how hard you're trying to fix this--change it to what it's supposed to be.

[ Her gaze returns to him as she watches the emotions flick across his face. She's not a mindreader and can't tell what he's thinking. All she knows for sure is that his mind is going places and putting something together. Some sort of realization she's not privy to. Maybe it's something in his mind that he puts things together with. A board, a wall, something that puts all his thoughts out in one place.

He is a writer after all.

« He really does blame himself for everything wrong. Doesn't he? »

Jesse pushes herself up with the arm she's laying on. She leans over him, enough so the red hair that frames her face falls over her shoulders to brisk along his. Green eyes latch immediately onto his gray ones as they move back to her. An undercurrent of vulnerability is present in her own gaze, but also that subtle determination to continue guiding him out of the waves when they come for him. ]

How could you know how bad it is? You've been trapped in another dimension for thirteen years. A dimension even I don't really understand.

Hey, [ Jesse presses her forehead to his, demanding his whole attention be on her, ] I don't expect you to know. I don't even expect you to understand, because maybe I'm too crazy for you to understand. That's fine. All I ask is that you listen and you don't run away from it. Okay?

[ « Don't leave and close the door like everyone else. » ]

There's always dark and light. Right? Sometimes it's just harder to see the light when everything seems dark. [ Or... something. Words and writing is his area, not hers. ] I don't think you can have the world be entirely one or the other. It's both.

[ She looks down briefly to center herself before looking back up at him. It doesn't matter to her that he's older than her. It doesn't matter that he's been trapped in a nightmare dimension and isn't even a normal definition of sane. It's not like she is either. At least he doesn't have an alien entity interwoven into his own matter or whatever level it is that she's connected to Polaris at now.

« I need to tell him. It can't wait for another loop or for when he finally does fix this. » ]

I didn't ask that you put us back into the story because I wanted to demand something from you. Or to control where the story is going or what it has to be.

[ She bites the inside of her lip for a moment. What if he jumps away the moment she says it? What if he's out the door? What if he brings up the fact that he's married and it's all been a horrible decision? What if he leaves?

Her shoulders square as that natural defensive wall tries to make itself known. This time, she pushes it down. He needs to know. No matter what his answer or reaction is. This is something he can't be kept in the dark about. ]

I asked because--I wanted to be with the man I love again. Here, in our reality. Home.

Edited 2023-11-12 00:40 (UTC)

[ A feeling of doubting crosses Alan's mind then. No, not just doubt. Self-doubt. Doubting himself. Questioning his actions, his decisions. It seems that his ability to be confident in himself comes and goes with the waves. The tide is out now, and Alan's confidence is going out with it. But the one person who can bring it back in, tide or no tide, is right here with him. A part of him feels as though he shouldn't be relying as heavily upon her, but- she's his inspiration. His reason to keep going.

Even when everything seems lost, he just looks at her or thinks about her and feels his drive and determination return. Without her, he's just blindly trying to make his way through the darkness. With her, she's guiding him by the hand and doing what she can to show him the way. ]

It wouldn't be such a mess if I were different. Better. If I hadn't left the proverbial window open, letting him in. [ It's my fault! He got out. Scratch, with my face!

If he'd been more vigilant, if he'd been more careful, maybe Return wouldn't have ever been written. But spending time thinking about "maybes" won't get him anywhere. It won't help him fix the story. ]

I know you're right, but- What would this all look like if I wasn't a writer? Would it be better or worse? [ It's ultimately a pointless thought, but he wonders how things would be if he was a photographer like Alice or an artist drawing pictures. Not a filmmaker or a poet, because that's just asking for trouble. Isn't it? ]

Maybe if I had been something different, the collateral damage wouldn't be so great.

[ For just a second, a hint of the strain that Alan's had to shoulder as part of the process of trying to fix the story shows in his eyes. Stress lines form on his forehead as he sees pages from the manuscript spread out on a board or other flat surface. Arrows drawn between words and ideas go in all directions. Statements with question marks at the end of them are scrawled all over the board. Some words are scrawled out. Scratched out. The image of the board shifts and question marks written in Alan's hand cover the entirety of the surface.

What the hell? I really am losing it.

But as before, Jesse's movement catches his attention and pulls him out of the maze of his mind. She's pushed herself up with one arm, leaning over him. God, she's beautiful. ]

I just- I don't know how to explain it, but visions... images... things have reached me there before, sinking down to the bottom of- [ Of what? The lake? The ocean? What is it? Stop spiraling, Alan. Keep it together. ]

Why didn't I get a vision of that? I know I can't control what visions reach me, but you'd think something like that would manage to get through. Not that I could do anything about it, but- but maybe I could have. I- [ He's spinning out again, and he feels his desperation rising. He needs to make it stop. makeitstopmakeitstop- I just want to go home.

He startles when Jesse's forehead presses against his, but that startle response is enough to send the waves receding from him again. They're not going to drag him away this time. He draws a shaky breath, willing himself to calm back down again as he answers her. ]

You're crazy? If you're crazy, then I'm completely insane. I know, we've talked about this before. [ Haven't we? ] I'm not running. I'm listening. [ I'm still here. ]

Yeah. Yeah, there is. It just feels like the darkness is winning. But it hasn't won yet. Not yet. We're still-

[ He cuts himself off, because he's rambling and he knows it. She doesn't need to hear more of his crazy rambles. And he would rather listen to her than hear himself anyway.

His eyes lock on hers, because he senses that there is a point to all this: a point she's trying to drive home into his head, a head that's more spacey than it should be. Than it has any right to be. Pay attention. Wake up.

She's biting her lip, and he thinks he sees nervousness in her eyes. Or maybe that's just his own constantly nervous, panicked mind projecting things onto her.

But then it comes, and it takes Alan's breath away. He forgets to breathe for a second, then five seconds, then ten...

I wanted to be with the man I love again.

He's frozen beside her, not breathing, not doing anything but feeling something welling up inside him: something he hasn't felt in who knows how long. Surprise? Wonder? Love? Shock? All of the above?

I'm the man she loves? I wanted to tell her that I love her, but I never expected to hear it from her, even after the way we found each other in the story. I don't know why, but I didn't think she'd ever say it.

Alan's free hand that isn't holding hers slides to cover his face. His breath hitches again just as shakily as before, and he feels something sliding down his face and soaking into his beard. Several somethings that he tries to hide behind his hand, hoping she doesn't see. Hoping she doesn't notice how her words have rocked him, touched something inside him that he wasn't prepared to feel. ]

Who decides "better" in this? Who says you didn't do all that you could? [ Jesse really has no idea if he gave up or if he was overwhelmed. Still, she wants to make the point to him that maybe he did all that he could. Sometimes things go to shit no matter the decisions they make. Sometimes it doesn't work out, and then you have to keep trying. That's what he's doing right now, isn't it? ]

If you weren't an artist then it would of picked someone else, right? The Dark Presence. It would have found someone else to... [ she pauses then, the old woman's voice coming to mind again from the previous night. ] To dream it into reality. What if it did find someone else? Someone else that couldn't fight it for thirteen years? Someone that couldn't have stopped it back in 2010.

You're always quick to beat yourself down and say all the worst things about yourself. You're an asshole, but, how many assholes care enough to keep an alien nightmareish entity out of our reality this long? You did what you wanted to do the most, right? Save your wife. You could of stopped there but you didn't.

[ « I'm really, really not good at this. But, I'm trying. I just hope some of it helps. »

She tugs on his hand again.

« Stop it! Just stop it. You're not in the lake anymore. You're here, with us! » ]

Alan. [ Her tone is sharp to make his attention focus back on her. ] Stop, okay? Stop it. Not everything is your fault. What the Bureau went through? That was my fault. My mess to clean up. Not yours. It happened because of Ordinary... w-what we did in Ordinary as kids. The Hiss wasn't your fight.

You did your part. You got me to Hartman. You got me to where I could see what the Bureau was looking into at Bright Falls. You led me there and I handled it. Okay? You didn't need to do anything else. At all.

[ She smiles a little. ] We have... and we can settle on the fact we're both crazy. [ A gentle shake of her head, even as their foreheads touch. ] We're in a horror story. Of course it seems like the evil scary monster is going to be winning. But, you're right. That doesn't mean it's going to win.

[ Alan freezes and doesn't say anything. Jesse's eyes widen slightly as she immediately feels the doubts creep in. Maybe she shouldn't have said it at all. Maybe he doesn't feel exactly the same as she does. It'd make sense. He was dragged into this weird mess of realities and mind bending monsters. Why would he want to be more involved with a woman who is intertwined with one? A woman who had herself committed, who lost her entire family and town, and now works for the people who took her family...

Then, he moves his hand and covers his face.

Jesse glances down at the bed, then up at him again. She's not a rocket scientist, or hell even a scientist for the paranormal powers she possesses. Even then, she can tell that he's trying to hide his reaction. The instinctive reaction is to pull back and apologize for upsetting him. Maybe she shouldn't have said it after all. They're in a horror story. Romances don't end well in them usually, but, this is also Alan Wake. He can save the world if he can figure it out.

Her expression softens then as she realizes what's going on.

« How... how long has it been since someone has told him that? Not only that, but they believe in him? Trust him to do the right thing? Has it been longer than just the last thirteen years? »

She starts to lower herself back to the bed and adverts her eyes. The concept of privacy has probably gone out the window with the fact he's shirtless in bed with her, and she's just a tank top and bottoms, but, this is something he doesn't want her to see. She'll respect that however she can. ]

Edited 2023-11-12 03:35 (UTC)

[ "Overwhelmed" is probably accurate. But he could have just as easily given up too. He knows full well that there have been times when he wanted to lie down and give up. When the pressure of the Dark Place weighed too heavily on his mind, when the waves of Cauldron Lake were breaking on the shore, too close for comfort- Alan wanted to give up. ]

That's just it, isn't it? Who decides? There's no one there to ask. [ Inside the Dark Place, he means. He huffs out a humorless laugh. ] Maybe that's why everything got so messed up. There's no one there but me, and well- does it look like I give good advice about anything? Otherwise, the Dark Presence decides, and that's not great either.

[ Alan sighs and it feels like it comes from somewhere deep inside him. Jesse's gotten him figured out. Not that it's difficult. Dad issues. Substance abuse issues at one point. Asshole. Not cut out for the fame machine. Anger issues. Big asshole. Ego the size of New York. Sometimes depressed. Huge asshole. MURDERER. You lost her. It's your fault. it's YOUR fault. IT'S YOUR FAULT.

It's his voice, but those thoughts don't belong to Alan. It's how the Dark Presence sounds when it's tearing at his mind, pulling at what's left of his willpower.

He doesn't respond, because what can he say? He's everything she says he is. Do his attempts to hold back the Dark Presence outweigh the bad things he's done? He doesn't say anything, just lets her words and the sound of her voice wash over him. He feels her tugging on his hand, and he tries valiantly to pull himself out of his own twisting thoughts.

It's a struggle as it always is, but he's trying. Trying to fight. Trying to swim up. He offers her a crooked sort of smile. ]

I'm supposed to be helping you. You're the one who got hit the hardest, and here I am making it about me. Again. Always. [ Isn't that how I lost Alice in the first place? ] I'm sorry.

The Hiss might not be my fault, but- [ So much is his fault, regardless of what Jesse says. The knowledge of it crushes him sometimes.

His fingers curl further, gripping his face tightly as tears continue to fall. Why tears? Why now, of all times? Is it because he hasn't heard anyone use the word "love" referring to him in years? Am I that desperate? Deprived? Trying to find the answer to explain it all doesn't stop them from flowing, continuing to soak his beard. But he's aware that Jesse is still beside him; he feels her lower herself back down to the bed, and he tries once again to pull himself together.

His hand lowers from his face, knowing he must look like a mess. But with watery eyes and all, he manages a small smile for her. He tries to catch his breath, but it comes out sounding like a hiccup. The sound of it makes him laugh even though it's not particularly funny. What a sight he must be right now, with red, watery eyes but a smile that's nothing but genuine. He scrubs at his eyes with his hand before he takes this chance to push himself up now from the bed, ignoring the protest from his bruised side. ]

You know something- [ His smile widens, and his gray eyes search for hers, hoping she looks at him. ]

I love you. I- I have for awhile now. [ More than awhile, through loops upon loops. Through mistakes he made thinking he could save her. Through so many twists and turns in the road. It's been a long road to get to this point. But now feels like the time to say it: now, before he loses his nerve or something stops him. ]

[ He wanted to--but he didn't. That is the point she tries to make. He hasn't stopped, he hadn't given up. Maybe stopped a few times, because doesn't everyone? Even she blocked Polaris out sometimes. They all have moments of weakness.

But, they don't let that weakness win. ]

Okay, so. Things are messed up. They're screwed up. That doesn't mean it's impossible. You can fix this, Alan. Yeah, you need to. But you have to know you can in order to do that.

[ She presses her hand against his again. This won't work for much longer. How many times will the same trick to wake him up work? She's asked, told him, pressed him to come back. A simple hand in the water has now become her entire arm with the water pushing up to her shoulder. He doesn't need to know how far she has to go to reach him.

He may sink farther if he realizes how far she's needing to reach into the lake.

« He made me promise to stay out of the lake. How can I stay at the surface when he's so far down?! He just keeps sinking further and further. What if he sinks too far? »

『 He's coming. I've got to get out of here. Dive deeper. 』

« Is this what he meant when I saw him beyond the door in the Motel? Has he dived too deep into the lake? »

Jesse moves from her thoughts as he shifts. Her green eyes snap to his. ]

I think anything involving Cauldron Lake will be about you, Alan. Until this AWE is over and you can put it behind you. All of it. The Lake, the Dark Place... all of it.

[ The mess he looks like is different than normal. She'll take this look over the others. This is a normal look in a way. One that makes her feel that the real Alan Wake is still in there. The Dark Presence, Scratch, whatever it is hasn't taken him away entirely. ]

What? [ Her voice is small, intersecting the question between his pause.

Then, he says it.

Her eyes widen slightly. She's known it, of course, because why else would someone like Alan go as far with her as he has if he didn't? Despite what tabloids said, he isn't a playboy.

She gently leans forward again to rest her forehead to his. Hopefully he will rest back so his side doesn't act up. ]

Good. It would be ... well, if we got this far, and you didn't... [ She gives a small smile. ] Now what?

[ He nods slowly, because she's right. She's always been right. And the thing is, it's starting to sink in just what he'll have to do to end it all. It's just not what anyone wants, him least of all. How long has it taken him to get to this point? How many years of fighting and toiling and struggling to break through the darkness?

His hand curls, almost clenching into a fist against hers as the realization settles in further. She's going to hate it. Hell, I hate it. But what more can I do?

He's also aware that her old method of bringing him back isn't going to work forever. The water is too deep, and he's going deeper. A hand in the water is fine. An arm going in up to the shoulder is less so. But anything more than that? Not happening. ]

I know that, but- you have to admit, I look pretty self-absorbed most of the time. [ It's not rare, exactly, but it's not an every day thing for Alan to be this blunt about himself and how he imagines people see him. ] Right now, it's not about me. You had the alien force in your head dialing up to 24, and it put you down for the count. That means you should be focusing on you.

[ I'm an asshole for turning the focus back on me. It's not supposed to be on me, not now. ]

Now what? [ He pretends to stop and think about that for a second, but really, there's only one thing he wants to do. With his forehead resting against hers, he leans in so that he can press his lips against hers in the deepest kiss he can manage. ]

[ She holds his hand gently, even as it tries to curl into a fist. There's a twinge of pain, but she doesn't mind. Whatever he needs her to do to keep him floating and awake. That's been her role this entire story, and she realized it... sometime ago. Time feels meaningless in this story. Especially when it loops and she finds herself back in the Motel anyways. Around and around they go. Loop, loop, spiraling out and she tries to pull him back in.

Not all heroes are the ones who save the day.

Alan needs to be saved. But, she can only do so much. He has to want to save himself. Maybe that's her other reason for being her. Except she gave herself that reason. She can be a goal for him to want to save himself. Stretching out her hand for him to realize it's not just endless nights.

Home is waiting for him if he only swims up and takes her hand. Let's her pull him out of the lake.

Even if she has to lean in head first to reach him. ]

Yeah, you can be. [ Her tone suggests it's obvious and she is more than aware of it. That doesn't really matter to her right now. ] But, you helped get me here, right? You're doing your part. And, you're the one one with the bruise. It's from last night, isn't it?

[ Jesse looks back down at his side. It can be about the both of them. She doesn't really like the spotlight shone on her. She's spent her whole life trying to be off the radar and unnoticed. Not always successful, as she's learned from the Prime Canidate Program, but it hadn't stopped her from trying.

« We're both down for the count. Mind helping me out? Keeping things away. Just for a few hours. We both need to eat, sleep... and then I need to talk to Anderson. »

Her attention shifts back to Alan as Polaris shimmers. His mouth is on hers and she instantly leans into the kiss. No hesitation, no worry, an immediate reaction. Her hand gently slips from his so she can rest it on the side of his face. His beard is wet from not only the shower, but, now she can touch him without feeling anything else. Fingers brush along until her hand slides to the back of his head and entangle in his longer hair.

He doesn't taste like the ocean, mud or dirt. Just him. ]

OCEANVIEW II

— morning.

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