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synthneon2023-11-01 01:57 am
outlierdirector) wrote in synthneon2023-11-01 01:57 am
oceanview || ❝ i must guide my love through the night. ❞
I cannot feel her by my side
Even in this placе inside my mind
no subject
It was Scratch. Different from when he killed her in their first loop. Animal, feral even. Not smooth and calculating. Is this a different kind of Scratch now? Has he changed because Alan's gone deeper?
« This feeling is why he crumbled that page up. The one he shoved down into his bag. The first loop, the first time around. If I feel this way about seeing him ... then it must be so much worse for Alan. He's had to read it, edit it, change it. See something that looks like him kill me. I'm not going to ever bring it up to him again. I still have that page at the Motel. Just in case he ever needs it for whatever reason. »
Her thoughts come to a hault the moment he begins talking. It's almost like the endless parade of words, but different and controlled. He's painting a picture of the Dark Place for her. She would respond, but, he's kissing her again and she tries to keep up with their erratic pacing and when he stops to talk.
Then, he asks her his last question.
What a loaded question it is.
She gently lowers herself to the ground. Her hands move from his face to his shoulders. Anchoring him, trying to help him focus on just her. This answer is so complicated and has to be given the right way or it won't make a difference. ]
You're Alan Wake. Best selling novelsit and a parautalitarian--like me. You're a master wordsmith and the Champion of Light--using both to fight the nightmares we've never seen. Ones we haven't because you've stopped them every time. [ « There's something else. Poor personal. » ] You're a bit of an asshole, but you care. You care so much that you won't take the easy way home in case those nightmares follow you.
But, even then... [ She glances down for a moment and swallows the lump in her throat. He's the one good with words. Not her. She can barely trust most people.
Her hands gently curl into the worn tweed jacket. The one she knows him from. ] You're Alan Wake: the man I love. Not as the Director, or generator for an alien resonance... but me. The not so ordinary girl from Ordinary.
[ She offers him a small vulnerable smile. That might not be the answer wanted or the one he needed. ]
no subject
It would join the page that he'd shoved into the bottom of his bag. It could go to the Motel, to anywhere, but it belonged somewhere that it would never be seen again. It's too vulnerable. Too personal. Too much hurt attached to it.
But it's not important in this moment. She's important; being with her is important. Her words wash over him as he takes them in. He hears what she's saying, what she's telling him about who he is. How she sees him. Even as he listens, even as he tries to cling to the words she says, the way she describes him, the way she calls him the man she loves... doubt is rooting into his mind. ]
I know that I love you. I love how you talk, how you look at me when you're upset. How you smile at me when you're happy about something.
What I don't know is... [ He focuses his thoughts on the feel of her hands on his shoulders. She's not going to like what he has to say, but the words are already forming in his mind. They need to be said. Why? What is telling her this going to accomplish? It might make her leave. But she should see just who she's dealing with here. She should see, and then decide. ]
Who's writing this story? Who's editing this story? Scratch wrote it, I'm editing it, but who am I?
[ It's paradoxical in a way that only makes sense to those who've seen the way things often don't make sense. Alan is doubting reality and his place in reality but the light on the desk is growing brighter.
Something inside Alan is growing warmer; it's cold beneath the waves. Sometimes it feels like ice cold water is seeping into his lungs. Ice water or just ice? Sometimes he can't breathe.
But that feeling of warmth is melting the ice. Warming the water. He can breathe. Why now? None of this makes sense. ]
You've never seen me in the real world, have you? In your reality. There's articles, interviews, gossip printed in magazines, but have you actually seen me? The articles, the rumors, the gossip- was that about me? Were those real? Am I real?
[ You're suffering from various symptoms of undifferentiated schizophrenia. Hallucinations, paranoid delusions, unusual thinking: an obsession about light and darkness. A feeling that everything revolves around you and your thoughts and dreams.
That voice echoes in Alan's thoughts, a memory resurfacing from years ago. Hartman. Was he right? Is that all that this is? All that it's been? ]
Is everything I know just one big fictional construct that I've made up? I think it's real, but everyone else knows it's not? [ Am I insane? ]
What's worse, being a character, or believing in a reality that's not a reality at all?
[ I don't want to be a character... ]
no subject
Until he continues.
Her heart sinks with each description of fear he's dealing with. She opens her mouth to combat each one. Of course he's real. Of course the interviews were real. He was married to Alice Wake. He published those books. All of it is real in their reality. But, he continues, and the realization that he wouldn't believe her sets in.
« It's not working. He's not really listening. He can't hear us through everything in his head. Why did he call us here if he won't let us help? Why am I HERE? I'm not making any difference. I can't reach him--even when we're in the same room, in the same dimension... I don't know what to do.
I'm going to lose him like Dylan. But, it's not waiting for him to wake up like it is my baby brother. He's just going to wash away and never come home. Because I can't say the right thing to bring him home. »
Polaris tugs at her mind then. She glances behind her at the side to the radio. The familiar shimmer of her friend collides with it. Jesse's jaw shifts to the side.
« Messages? What kind of messages? ... N-no. No. I don't want him to hear those moments. How could it help? I'm not that person anymore. I don't want to go back to that place. I don't... »
Polaris' shimmer intensifies. She insists. She's never led Jesse wrong--even if the human host didn't want to believe or hear it.
Jesse bites on her lip and stares at the floor below them for a moment. The frown deepens on her face at the insistence Polaris gives. Alan is probably looking at her as if she's grown a second head.
« How is it going to help? »
Her hands slide from his shoulders, down his arms, taking his hands from her lower back. They clamp around his and hold them tightly. Then, wordlessly, she's taking him to the radio. Jesse directs Alan in front of her and then down to sit on the floor in front of it. She sits on her knees behind him, hands on his shoulders, keeping him steady and secure. The lifeline he's asked her to be without ever properly answering.
Polaris brushes at his mind again to direct his attention to the radio.
｟ Alan. ｠
The radio clicks on. It's static at first as Polaris attunes to the radio frequency needed.
A message. ]
『 We used to play there all the time, me and Dylan, and other kids as well. We loved it. This time... I remember... was different... we found a way in, deeper into it, like it had shifted. We went inside, and that's where we found the Slide Projector.
"A dump is a place for lost things. Things that have been thrown away. Did you ever feel that way when you were growing up, Jesse?"
What? No... yes, but that has nothing to do-
"Was there a slide projector at your home, when you were small?"
No... 』
[ The message carries on for a time. Then: ]
『 "Let me ask you this: as a child, did you ever fantasize about worlds inside pictures. Inside a painting? You know, stepping into a painting, into a hidden world, escaping, and finding adventures there? Away from your parents?"
I don't... I don't think so, I don't remember. Maybe. I don't know. 』
[ Static fills the radio once more as a tuning sound can be heard. Polaris shifting to another one to find.
Jesse's hands curl into Alan's shoulders as she looks down. A slight tremor forms in her shoulders. She knows Polaris isn't done. ]
no subject
Why am I like this? Why can't I wake up? I know who I am, I'm not a character. I'm- I'm Alan Wake. Stop telling me I'm a character. I've lived, I had a life- a screwed up mess of a life but it was a life. You can't just rip that away from me.
[ Desperation sounds in his voice along with the fear that's clinging to him. It might be the fear speaking, but Alan senses a shift. Could Jesse be pulling away even as she stands there with him? If she is, he knows it's his fault. He's given her nothing to go on, nothing to work with, time after time after time. How long until she goes away for good? ]
Don't go. Don't leave. [ I need you. I know I'm the worst at showing it, but I- Please. ] I'm sorry.
[ I'm so tired. I'm tired of fighting. Please, just let me have this. She can help, if I just let her. Just let me let go.
He knows he's begging himself to let go so that Jesse can help, and he knows how irrational that is, but it's something he can't help. ]
... just let me have this. I'm tired, and I just want to sleep. No, I want to wake up. I want to be here, not drifting, not drowning. Here. Home. I want to go home.
[ Alan is looking at her, but not like she's grown a second head. He's desperate again, desperate enough to beg the Dark Presence to let him go. It never listens. His words travel into the silence and vanish. ]
I'll never go home, will I? There are... there are some things, some immutable facts of living that can't be changed. That's one of them now. Alan Wake will never go home.
[ As he says those words, his tone shifts. It sounds harder. Flatter. His voice deepens just a fraction. It's almost as though he's reciting rather than speaking conversationally.
He groans again, louder this time. The sound seems to come from deep inside him and for a moment, he goes slack, all of his strength leaving him in a rush only to be restored a minute later. ]
No, that can't be true. I'll come home someday.... I'll- I'll come back.
[ He pauses long enough to note how Jesse takes hold of his hands, holding them tightly in hers. Then she starts to lead him to where the radio sits. Why?
She guides him to stand in front of her, and then to sit down while she sits down behind him. He feels her hands slide back into place, resting against his shoulders, and he lets out a shaky breath. Polaris brushes at his mind in the gentle way that she does, but even with that gentle touch, he jumps because he wasn't expecting it. ]
Polaris?
[ The radio clicks on, and Alan finds himself stiffening in spite of himself. What will he hear through the radio this time?
This time, it's different. It's not a radio show, it's... well, he doesn't know what it is at first. But he does know the voice. He knows the person the voice belongs to. His head turns slightly to look at the woman sitting behind him. What is this?
At first, Alan just listens to the Jesse in the message talking. But then another voice interjects, and that voice causes Alan to tense up even further. He hopes that he's wrong, that he's way off base and that his suppositions are wrong too. But that voice isn't any voice. It's familiar, in the worst way.
The questions and answers continue, and Alan's feeling of dread only seems to grow. The wording used and the phrasing is different from what Alan's experienced, but it's not that different either. Certain things are the same. The tone that tries to be unobtrusive but doesn't quite manage it. The probing nature of the questions. The statements that are supposed to develop rapport but somehow fall short. He knows this.
Right now, it's very important that you stay calm. We don't want you to have another episode. You're a patient at my clinic, have been for awhile now. The shock of your wife's death triggered a mental illness.
Hartman's voice echoes again in Alan's mind, and his reaction is just as immediate now as it was back then. ]
No, you- you're lying.
[ The words aren't said to Jesse or to Polaris, but to the image of Hartman in his head. Oh yes, he knows what's going on now. The static from the radio pulls Alan out of his memories and back to the writer's room where Jesse sits with him.
He feels Jesse's hands curling against his shoulders, and he turns to look behind him as best as he can. He thinks he knows that look. It's not a good one, not one he likes seeing on her face. So maybe he doesn't love all the faces that she's shown him. ]
Jesse? [ He shifts just a fraction, not enough to dislodge her hold on him, but enough that he can see her. ] What- Why are these messages playing? [ What is Polaris doing? ] If you don't want to hear them, you shouldn't have to.
[ Because he thinks that look on her face is the look of someone who wishes they were anywhere but here. It's the look of someone who wants to run from the room. To plug their ears. To block out the voice that's not associated with anything good. ]
no subject
It's why he broke up with her. She was too weird, too crazy, and could never seem to be enough of a normal person. He wasn't the sole reason she ended up being committed--the person she was with a lifetime ago. He was just the latest in the long string of dominos and she hit a wall. Then, she was committed. They tried trlling her Polaris wasn't real, that Ordinary happened. Her parents, Dylan, and everyone else in Oridnary died in an industrial accident. An accident like that doesn't kill nearly an entire town.
She knows that's why Polaris wants to share what she does. Something to show Alan that Polaris guided Jesse through something similar; she can guide him. She will guide him. He only needs to listen and act on what she's telling him.
Jesse's eyes widen as the flatten tone. He doesn't see the look of horror that comes into her eyes. She knows that tone, that voice. It's not Alan's even if it uses his voice to say it. It's the same as she heard in Bright Falls--when she sensed the Dark Presence in the land itself.
« I don't want him to hear it. But he has to, doesn't he? »
He speaks outloud during the recording and she squeezes his shoulders gently. Reassuringly. She knows he doesn't mean her or Polaris. Something else in his mind she won't understand. Maybe can't understand. Not her place to understand.
No, that's not Alan she hears in her mind. It's using his voice but it's not him. Something trying to force through the Hotline and she refuses to listen. She blocks it out.
She doesn't answer the question directed to her. Instead, she squeezes his shoulders again. It's a vulnerability she hates. One that she feels shows all the issues she tries to keep under lock and key. She told him once she was just as crazy... and now he'll know. Everyone leaves when they know. What if he decides she isn't what he needs and pushes her out the door?
The staic fades and begins to play the next message. ]
『 "You mentioned a poem last time we talked... by Thomas Zane."
Yes. "Beyond the shadow you settle for, there's a miracle illuminated."
"Hmm... I looked the poem up... only I could not find any poet by that name. I did find a European filmmaker who moved here in the sixties, named Thomas Zane."
What? I don't...
"No matter. It suits you very well, the poem. How you see things. Maybe you wrote it yourself?"
I didn't... 』
[ Jesse lowers her head as the message continues. She presses her face into the back his head, gently, never harsh or hard. She hates feeling exposed. Vulnerable. Alone in the madness that reality really is.
But, he needs to know. He needs to hear he isn't the only one who struggled. That she isn't some perfect well adjusted person to it all.
« Don't leave when you hear it. Please. Don't shut the door and kick me out. Don't leave me alone like everyone else who knew. » ]
『 "No matter. You've said a few times that you feel like "there's a piece of you missing." Can we talk about that?"
Okay. Yeah. it's this... I feel... an emptiness, a yearning for something that I think I lost.
"It is natural for you to feel that way. Your brother and your parents are dead."
No. No... Dylan's not dead. And... that's not even it.
"You are referring to the imaginary friend from your childhood."
Polaris... she's come back, after a long time. She's calling me... in a dream I saw. She showed me things.
"Jesse."
It felt more real than anything. As real as what happened in Ordinary. 』
[ Her arms move. They wrap around Alan's shoulders to help keep him upright, but also, to help keep her steady. Her head lowers to hide in the back of his shoulders. Her face presses against the hood of his hoodie. It smells like the forest and salt water. ]
『 No. It was a cover up. The government knows about it. There were agents there. Agents from... I don't know exactly. They took Dylan. They... I'll find them. I won't stop looking. Polaris wants me to go to New York. There's a... building there. I have to leave soon. I have to be there at a very specific time. Something... something hugely important is going to happen-
"Jesse, you know we can't let you go until you're well. And that begins by understanding what's real and what's imagined." 』
[ Jesse's arms wrap around tighter. Her face presses further into his hoodie to hide the few tears managing to escape.
The static only comes through briefly before tuning in once more. One more message. A voice that sounds like Alan's, but only because Jesse fears he'll one day say something similar. ]
『 "I don't know what hell is wrong with you. You know whatever you think happened in Ordinary wasn't real. An industrial accident, Jesse. Everyone confirmed it! None of it happened!"
That's NOT what happened! I was THERE! I know exactly what happened! Dyaln's not dead. I need to find him--I need help to find him. Where they took him! I can't... I haven't been able to find him on my own. Or the agency that took him...
"God, why the fuck are you like this?! Every single god damn time! I can't take this shit anymore with you. You know what? You don't need me. You need a god damn institution! Normal people aren't like this, Jesse! Fuck, can't you just be normal for once?"
W-what? I AM normal. This is what happened! I'm not lying. I promise, okay? I'm not. I wouldn't make this up... 』
[ A door slams over the message and then the radio cuts. The Writer's Room falls quiet again.
Finally, Jesse speaks. Her voice small, vulnerable, shaky. Yet, that determination is still there. ]
Yes, Alan Wake is real. What happened in Bright Falls in 2010 was real. His famous books are movies now--thay even more own team in the Bureau loved to see. Alan Wake was married to Alice, and she produced a movie for everyone to see the real Alan Wake in. Not the one rumors and urban legends made up. The real Alan Wake.
Here, in this room with me.
You're just as real as Polaris is. Ordinary. Bright Falls. More real than anything else. [ Her arms at his shoulders curl tighter as she presses her face more into his back. ] And you will come home. I'll make sure of it. Because I'm waiting for you--even if no one else is. Waiting to be with MY Alan. The one who reached out on the Hotline--alive and real. The person I've wanted to meet ever since you sent me into the Investigations Sector.
[ Jesse pauses as her voice breaks. ] Because, he's like me. He knows the way the world really is. How the room looks with the poster torn down and the hole in the wall exposed for all to see.
You called us here to help. And... I'll make damn sure you come home. Because no one else should go through what I did alone.
no subject
Jesse's look of horror matches the one that flashes in Alan's eyes as he feels the familiar, dreadful feeling of the Dark Presence clawing at his mind again. It claws at him, pulls at his thoughts, digs in deeper when he tries to resist. He always tries to resist, but it's always persistent. Always trying to catch him when his guard is down. His guard can't ever be down, not if he truly wants to come home.
If it's not Jesse's place to understand, then who's is it? Alan hasn't put these thoughts into so many words, but so much has happened to him and he wants to tell someone about it. Maybe that's the reason for the messages that get broadcasted from this room: broadcasted from this room to anywhere with a receiver. Even then, it's no guarantee that the messages will be heard or understood. But at least they're out there.
He presses himself against her hands, leaning back just a fraction as if needing that small amount of pressure to remind himself that she's here. She's with him. And he's with her too, if she needs him at all. There's very little he can do, but if she needs him, he wants to be there for her.
And as the messages play, it sinks in for him that maybe, just maybe Jesse does need him. Somehow. However that looks like for her.
He startles when the next message begins and the first thing he hears is the name Thomas Zane. They've talked about him before, and Jesse's quoted that very same line to him more than once. If the miracle is beyond the shadow, it's hiding really well. Are we the miracles for each other? The darkness is trying to hide her from me, but I have to clear it away.
His hands clench into fists; he knows the truth, even if this psychiatrist is saying otherwise. Thomas Zane exists in some shape or fashion. Jesse didn't write that poem. He knows she didn't. Gaslighting. Making her doubt. This is wrong. It's messed up. He tried to make me doubt too. Why do they always try to make us doubt? The facts are there, they just won't see them.
He feels her pressing her face into the back of his head, and he stills, wanting to be a steady support for her in return for all the times she's been that for him. He might not be steady himself, on the inside, but at least outwardly, he can support her when she needs him. Leaving is not an option on the table for him. He might be dragged away by the waves, pulled under until he drowns, but as long as he's still here, he intends to be there for her. With her. She won't face the monsters alone. Not again. And if the waves come back for me, I'll fight them. Never mind that he doesn't know how to fight a wave, but for her, he'll do it.
Jesse's words from the message echo in Alan's mind. He feels those words, resonates with them. They feel familiar. Has he said them before himself? An emptiness, a yearning for something that I think I lost.
That's a familiar feeling and familiar words. But that feeling of familiarity is replaced by a feeling of anger. Anger at the psychiatrist who continues to discount Jesse's experiences, her knowledge. Polaris isn't imaginary. I've heard her. I've felt her. This is shit.
Tension ripples through Alan's spine as his anger rises the more he hears. When he's angry like this, he usually throws things. Screams. Paces in frustration. But Jesse's hold on his shoulders keeps him still. She needs him. Needs his support. What is this? The two of us against the rest of the world who won't see what's right in front of them? Just because something can't be seen doesn't mean it isn't real. We know what's real, the good and the bad. The evil and the innocent. Demons. Angels. There are no angels in the Dark Place, only demons. ]
They don't know. They don't have a clue. What's real and what's imagined? There's no difference between the two. What hides in the dark, in the shadows where you can't see is just as real as what you can see.
[ A face, gray and drawn and gaunt but yelling flashes into Alan's mind for a moment, drowning out all sound and awareness, and he jerks and stiffens as fear crashes down on him like a ton of bricks.
It's gone a second later, leaving only that feeling of being drenched by a bucket filled with cold water behind. He draws a shaky breath and forces himself to remain still and steady once more. You see what I mean? That's real. It's in my head but it's real. Horrifyingly real.
The static sounds again and Alan's gaze travels back to the radio. He'd shut it off, but it seems as though this is one transmission that can't just be turned off. It's important somehow, but why? How? All it's doing is making him angry on Jesse's behalf. Not that she needs it, but he can't turn off that ripple of rage. ]
Who the hell is that? [ Alan listens to the next message to play, not liking at all how it sounds a little like his own voice. It sounds too familiar, uncomfortably so.
Damn it, Alice. You- everyone keeps- Alan shakes his head almost violently, trying to dislodge that memory before it can start. No, no, this isn't me. I wouldn't- I wouldn't say anything like this. Would I?
The message continues, and Alan can almost envision the scene as it plays out. Someone angry, yelling. Cursing. Jesse looking afraid, maybe backing up, or stepping forward... Terrified. She looks terrified in Alan's mind's eye.
So now you want to get me committed?! You need a god damn institution! The words from Alan's memory blend incomprehensibly with the words of the message, and Alan has to fight the urge to slam his fists into his head to get this to stop.
Can't you just be normal for once? Don't! Just don't. I don't wanna hear it. God damn it, Alice.
A door slams and Alan can't tell if it's from the message or from a cabin door slamming shut as he storms off. What the hell was that? What- Who was that? It sounds like me. Is that what would happen if I came home and had a relationship with Jesse? Is that how it would end? I can't even say it's wrong.
The silence falls back down over the Writer's Room, but then Jesse speaks. Quietly. Hesitantly. Alan latches onto the sound of her voice. She's still his lifeline. ]
Maybe- maybe I am real. Maybe Alan Wake is real. But who is Alan Wake? I'm an asshole; every bit of an asshole as you keep saying I am. Alice- I lashed out at her. Yelled at her. Left her. She- she always saw me, the me she called the "real" me. She forgave me for being an asshole, didn't she? [ The movie she made. I barely remember it. It was to show my good side. But how much of that good side is left? ]
I'm here with you, but how long will you want to be with me? I'm not- I'm not a good man.
[ As before, Alan's torn between believing Jesse's words and taking them as truth and believing that all he is is someone who tears people down. Hurts them. Abandons them. The cycle coming around again. ]
I'm trying to make sense of it. To believe it. I'm like you; I know what's behind the poster, what seeps in through the hole in the wall. But I'm not like you, in- in another way. Why would you wait for someone like me? Why would I be the person you wanted to meet?
[ I don't deserve it. But she'd say it's not about deserving. ]
I'm not like you; you're the hero that the story needs. [ Jesse and Saga, the real heroes. I'm not a hero. ] Are you sure that you want to wait for me? You didn't see... didn't see how Alice and I were together. It wasn't good. It wasn't healthy. She loved me anyway, but she could have just as easily run. You might run too. [ And I wouldn't blame her. ]
Jesse, are you sure this is what you want? [ I need to know. Just one more time, and then I won't ask again. Maybe. If I can remember this. ]
no subject
They don't know. They don't have a clue. What's real and what's imagined? There's no difference between the two.
That reaction resonates with her. Something familiar. He's said something like it before in a loop--maybe that very first time around. A piece that helped slide things into place as to how she felt about him. Curiosity and comradery turned into something more as the nights wore on. It took longer to get to Deerfest that time. The story started earlier, not closer to the date. She came to not only admire his determination and willingness to step up when he was obviously scared, but, came to love it. Him. There was something about it all that struck her as endearing. Something unique to him, and she was almost lucky to see it.
Someone else that lived through something horrifying and impossible and came out changed. Someone else that knew exactly what it was all like. Parautalitarian is just a word the Bureau uses to classify people like them. What she sees in Alan is someone changed by extraordinary circumstances, but can grasp onto it and make it his own and save lives. He's an asshole, and self-centered, self destructive. But, he's also caring, willing to take charge, and own his mistakes. It's a complicated duality but something so unique that makes him who he is: Alan Wake.
Somehow along the way it turned into more. He said he didn't write it that way, but, maybe it was always going to be that way. Two people on similar paths that meet and inevitably become entwined. She intended to keep it all to herself, locked up like everything else, but all it took was one kiss. Since then it's been a never ending ride, but, she can't say she'd let him take it away again. ]
...someone from a long time ago. [ Her voice is still small, quiet, vulnerable. Shoulders curl up slightly. ] Someone who doesn't matter anymore; who thought...
[ « It doesn't matter. Alan heard what happened. It was before the Oldest House, before the time in the institution. It doesn't matter now. What matters is how my life is now. Ending this AWE. Saving Saga's daughter. Bringing Alan home. »
She presses against him further as he continues with his explanations. Questions. Confusion. There's so much she could say. Things to express... feelings that he might need to know. But, she's not sure where to start or if any of them should be shared. Would he really want to hear them? Does he care that she's said she loves him?
Her hands slowly uncurl from his shoulders, travel down the tweed covered arms, then gently rest over his own on his knees. The shakes and tremors are obvious in her hands as they rest over his. Her face remains pressed into his hood. The smells remind her not only of an ocean, but Bright Falls too. Marks of where the last thirteen years have left him. Where he's been. ]
It's lonely. Being in the room without the poster and no one else sees it. Some see it but it's never the same as you see it. They can relate--but it's not the same. it's not the same. They're not changed; they don't have abilities or powers. They can be normal still. Go to parties, or holidays, have families. They share the same space and the same world... but they're not the same as you.
[ Jesse tenses then. Her eyes shut despite the fact she's hidden herself against his back, in his hood, anything to make herself feel smaller. She hates people seeing this side of her. The girl from Ordinary still trying to assert her place in the world with others around her. She's found her place in the world. The insane world with shifting doors and realities breaking into their own. She's found friends, colleagues, maybe even a slight father figure.
Dylan is still so far away. Now Alan is too, even with her hands holding onto his to anchor him despite how she trembles. ]
... I don't want to be alone in the room anymore. [ Her voice breaks, hitting a certain tone and frequency that he may have never heard before. ] Don't put me back in that room alone again. I don't--I can't--I'll pull you out of here if I have to. You can't...
[ She feels her head dip slightly as she slides down against his back. ]
...you can't walk in then disappear like everyone else. I won't let you.
[ Jesse turns her face further into the tweed jacket and feels the tears running steadily down her face. How can she save him if she's falling to pieces like this? It doesn't matter to her that they've spent so many loops to get to this point. It doesn't matter if they're both exhausted and t his only makes logical sense. She's supposed to be the hero. She can't break down in front of the person who needs to be saved. ]
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Someone who's an asshole. Maybe an even bigger asshole than me. I believe you. I believe that what happened in Ordinary really did happen. Industrial accident. That was no industrial accident, not from the way you told it. You don't need an institution. You didn't need one. They never should have put you in there.
[ She's moving again, hands uncurling from his shoulders and traveling down his arms. The gesture feels familiar. She's done it before. He likes how it feels when her hands are on him. It reminds him that he's real. He's not a fictional character. He's a person who can feel it when someone's hand is resting on his arm. He holds still, not wanting to move too suddenly and accidentally jostle her.
She can stay in that position for as long as he needs. Stiff legs are worth it, if leaning on him is what she needs.
He quiets, listening to her explain how it feels to be the only one who sees the truth of it all. The reality of the world. And then it hits him: what she's been asking for this entire time. Well, asking without really asking. She's been asking him to stay with her, to not leave her behind to face the world as she knows it alone. And how has he responded? By going to pieces, letting the waves drag him away. Falling apart. Spinning out. Being a vacant, carved out copy of himself. Not a copy of a copy of a copy. Just... a copy. Not Alan Wake.
That stops now.
The defiant thought rises to the surface and Alan latches onto it. It might be impossible, because the Dark Presence is always trying to pull him away. But in the moments that he's awake, he's resolved to not be a copy. He's resolved to be himself. ]
You won't be lonely again. Not while I'm here. [ I can't stop fighting. THIS is more important than literally anything else. I have to come home, because she needs me to. ] And I'll be here. I'll keep trying to come home. If I have to search all over the Dark Place for the Light Switch Cord, I'll do it. I'll keep coming back. [ Until she's sick of me. But she won't be sick of me, will she? ] I can be really annoying, you know that?
[ And that's what I'm counting on here. I know it's crazy, but we've already established that I'm crazy. ]
You won't be alone. I won't let you be alone. [ She won't let him drown forever. He won't let her be alone forever. It works out somehow, doesn't it?
It's only then that he finally turns around to face her. He moves slowly, because he can feel how she has her face pressed into his back, into the fabric of his jacket. It's only once he's fully turned around that he sees she's crying. His reaction is instantaneous. He reaches out for her, pulling her into a hug and holding her close. One hand comes to rest on her hair, giving it what he hopes are comforting strokes. The other hand gently touches her face, his fingers carefully trying to dry her tears. ]
I won't disappear. I promise, I won't disappear. [ I'll come to her apartment. I'll send her messages. I'll be HERE. ]
I won't let you be alone, Jesse. [ He's gotten the answer he needed from her, and now there's only one answer that he can give her in return: a stated promise. A vow that he won't let her be alone anymore. ]
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[ Jesse knows he won't like hearing that truth about her. She's worked odd jobs, unfavorable ones, lived on the street. Stolen. Jesse is so certain he'd not like hearing these things that she's convinced if they had met before he dived in Cauldron Lake? He wouldn't have liked her.
All of what they share feels like it's entirely dependent on the fact that he's here. Trapped in the Dark Place. They couldn't even be together because he would have been married to Alice Wake still. Even though part of her is so curious to know what it would have been like if they met before he jumped into Cauldron Lake. The other part of her is horrified, because she's convinced that he'd hate her. Think she was insane.
Her hands curl a bit more around his. ] I'll be waiting. Every time.
[ Jesse pushes closer to him again. ] You need to be home permanently. You need to be out of this room, this place. That's why you brought me here. [ Her face presses just a bit more into his coat. ] I won't stop. Not until you're back home. In our reality--where you belong. This place can't keep you forever. I won't let it.
[ Her arms instantly wrap back around him as he turns to her. Underneath the tweed jacket and around his frame, hands resting on his back against his hoodie. Fingers curl into the unfamiliar fabric as she rests her face against the zipper. While she prefers the flannel? She does find herself liking the way this feels. The textures, the way it lays on him. It feels more like Alan than a suit and tie. The normal person under the fame...
His fingers brush along her cheeks and she leans into his touch by a fraction. The tears still come as it seems everything she's been holding onto for loops continues to come loose. Jesse leans more into his hold for just a moment. She doesn't need more than this. She's the hero. ]
...I like this on you. [ She presses her cheek into his hoodie. Hoping he can tell by her touches that he knows she heard him. Believes him. ] More than the suit.
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[ The man he was then wouldn't have thought about that, and he knows it. He can't lie and say otherwise. If not for Cauldron Lake and Alice being pulled in, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't be who he is now, and he wouldn't have become this close to her.
Oh, maybe there'd be a twist of fate that saw them meeting, but what would that meeting be like without the catalyst that is his being trapped in the Dark Place? I'm not grateful to the Dark Presence for any of this, because how could I be? But if none of this had happened, I wouldn't feel the way I do about Jesse. Maybe that's what she meant about the miracle illuminated. It just took me time to realize it. ]
Thank you. [ He knows that she doesn't expect thanks, but he gives it anyway. ] You could decide that it's not worth it to you anymore and turn your focus to something else. [ Something that doesn't involve waiting for someone who may never make it out. I don't like to think like that, but it's a possibility. ]
You could even just go on with your life and only think about me once in awhile. [ When she sees flannel, or one of my books, or maybe she won't think about me at all. Maybe if I got out, I'd go look for her, try to find her... if she wanted to be found. ] It- It means a lot that you're still here.
[ I'm not going to say it, because I think we both know it. This place could keep me forever. Sometimes it feels like my getting out hinges on a flip of a coin. If it lands the wrong way up, I'm stuck. How many coin flips are left until this just becomes my reality?
He feels that creeping sensation of dread taking hold of him once more: dread that he'll never leave this place. He'll never see home again. If she wasn't here with him, that feeling of dread is strong enough that it would pull him back down to the floor. And as before, he'd contemplate not getting back up.
Another voice echoes in his mind; it sounds like him in part, but different in another part: The story's already written. The ending set on the page. Just let the ending play itself out. You've fought it long enough. Just go to sleep, Alan. Just let me take the reins now. Your friends will be safe with me.
A face appears in his mind's eye; his face, but not his at the same time. The face smiles, a wide, toothy smile. It doesn't reassure Alan one bit.
I won't. I can't let that happen. I can't go to sleep. I can't let the ending go the way it is. I don't know how I'll be able to keep going, but I have to. There's no other choice.
Her arms wrapping around him pulls him away from those thoughts. She needs him to be present; he can't let his fears pull him away from her. He holds still, letting her hands travel where she wishes to place them: against his back, on his face as she's done before, wherever she wants. This outfit is just as comforting to Alan as the flannel is; it feels like it belongs to another man, but it feels like it fits him like a glove even so. It is much more him than the suit and tie is.
Her tears keep coming, and he keeps doing his best to dry them. Of course, he understands the need to cry. Maybe she's kept her emotions in for so long that they can't help but spill out now. Finally, he just lets her lean into his hold and his arms move to tighten around her protectively. Hopefully comfortingly. She can cry on his shoulder if she needs to. ]
Yeah? You do? [ He smiles a small smile when she says she likes what he's wearing. She hasn't said it in so many words, because that's not her style, but he takes her actions to mean his words are reaching her. Ironic, if that's the case. Half the time, her words don't reach me when I'm going off on one of my nutty spells. That's why I'm surprised she hasn't given up and left. But she's stubborn; maybe even more stubborn than I am. ] So I guess that means I should ditch the suit. It wasn't really my style anyway.
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[ Jesse could see herself being enamored with Alan as he was those years ago. While she's seen the asshole he was in the media? She knows him well enough to understand he wouldn't have been like that around everyone. Not that any of it matters.
He was living with his wife. Everything she saw said he was entirely devoted to her. He wouldn't have stopped to look at her twice. It hurts, but, she knows it's the truth.
She would have been just another crazy person on the streets.
A frown pulls at the corner of her lips as he continues. She doesn't need thanks--this is part of her job. Part of her. Alan somehow got his way into her life and now she refuses to let him go. She's lost enough people to AWEs. Weirdness. The way the world really is. She won't let Alan be on that list of people.
Now, if only she could express that properly to him.
Jesse lets her eyes open and move upwards to find his again. Her heart pounds from everything. Fear of losing him, loving him, exhaustion. All of it mingles together in one collective ball of... everything.
« Very descriptive, Jesse. You really nailed it. »
A few moments pass and then she pulls herself up. Not away, as her arms are still wrapped around him, refusing to let go of him. What if she does and he drifts away again? ]
I can't leave you here forever. I can't go on as if none or this ever happened. I ... that's not who I am anymore. [ « I ran and left Dylan. I didn't mean to. But look at everything that happened because I did. I can't do that anymore. I'm the Director now. » ] is it that hard to believe I don't want to go back to not knowing you? I ... we're...
[ Her gaze drops and she sighs. Words. He's so good at them and she never will be. He has all these words--doesn't he? No. He said something about the words being wrong... being "gone."
« Is he running out of ideas on how to fix Return? What about this Initiation thing? Could we help with either one? I can't take him back with me... so maybe this is the next thing we can try. »
Her head tilts to brush her cheeks along her shoulder to dry the remaining ones. Just like that, she's pushed everything back inside and entered being the Director again. The hero. The not so ordinary girl isn't what he needs. That's not why he called her here.
Her hands move from his back to gently holding his face between them again. ]
It works if your on a tour for a book... or on a creepy talk show. [ She gives him a half smile. Then, she leans in and presses her forehead to his gently. That quiet determination shows in her green eyes as well as love. ] About that... he mentioned "Initiation." Door, that is. What book is that? You've never mentioned it.
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I'd say that the person living on the streets looks better than the person going to wild parties and assaulting paparazzi.
[ But logically, she's right. Back then, they would have had no reason to look at each other, much less stop when passing each other on the street. If they did.
It's not difficult for him to see now that he's gained some perspective that he was a highly unlikable person at his worst moments. Maybe he still is even now. All of his problems originated with himself, not with anyone else. He couldn't blame anyone else for how he turned out or for the choices he made. Even this mess with loops and stories and edits started with him. Everyone who got dragged in was dragged in because of him. It really is my fault. But I've had enough of pity parties. I'll fix it, if I can just find the right way.
Her eyes lock onto his again, and so he focuses his own back on her. ]
I know. I just thought that maybe if I told you that enough, that if I gave you... not permission, because you don't need anyone's permission. If I told you that it's all right if you leave, maybe it would make it easier. Better. But I know better than that, now. [ He shakes his head slowly. ] It's not hard to believe, because I know you. But it is hard for me to believe that anyone would go to these lengths to remember me. You and Alice are the only ones. [ And Barry. But I don't even know where Barry is.
He watches as her demeanor seems to shift. She's sliding back into being the Director. He knows that he much prefers the not so ordinary girl to the contained, controlled Director, but there are times when they have to slide into certain roles. She's just better at it than he is.
His eyes briefly close when her hands slide against his face. He likes it when she touches him: hands, arms, face, it's all something that he likes. He likes her hands too, for reasons he's still figuring out. Maybe it's because there's strength in those hands. Strength, capability, control... All things he doesn't have very much of anymore. ]
Yeah, I guess it does. But in case you wondered, suits are really uncomfortable. [ A part of him feels uncomfortable wearing them, but a hoodie or flannel wouldn't be received well on a talk show or book tour.
He presses his forehead against hers in return, an almost habitual gesture. It's just something the two of them do, and it feels right. ]
Initiation, it's the step in between departure and return. The... [ He has to stop and think about it. He had this conceptualized in his head once, but that was before writer's block set in and he ended up in Cauldron Lake with everything spinning out of his control. ]
The hero's journey. It's another one that I don't remember writing, but you probably knew that already.
[ His eyes slide closed again as the feeling of helpless frustration rises. ]
It feels like there's so much I need to fix, and Scratch is so far ahead of me. [ He's going to win the race and I won't have even gotten halfway.]
I should have told you about it, but I was so focused on fixing Return, I just forgot. Maybe what I should do is find a way to get a copy of Initiation and see what's in it.
[ It hadn't occurred to him to do that when he was there on the talk show. ]
But I don't know if that would even help.
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[ « He wouldnt be wrong in saying it is a low bar of expectations to meet if he said it. But, it's true. The easiest way to get my attention is to just...treat me like I'm normal. Ordinary. Even if it's untrue. »
Jesse smiles at him. A small one, but the kind that make her eyes light up. That special sort that has the love she has for him shine in her eyes. He would think he's unlovable. So would others.
« Emily called me a outlier for a reason. »
Thumbs brush along his cheeks and the edges of his beard. She's missed touching him. It's only been maybe a handful of hours since she saw him at the beach. Well... him. His body piloted by his double. The double that killed her the first time. The one that would have probably come for her again if Saga hadn't fired.
She gently curls her fingertips into his beard.
He can't die.
A huff of a laugh escapes at his comment on suits. ]
Mine isn't too bad. But, I'd prefer if I could wear my regular clothes more. Something about how "The Director needs to look professional." [ She rolls her eyes slightly.
Her forehead presses gently to his as he explains. She knows she's had the thought once that maybe she should of paid more attention in literature classes, because then maybe she'd be able to help. All she knows is the weird world, nothing about writing.
She places a gentle kiss in hopes of being reassuring or helpful. Whatever came to mind to say is shoved aside when she feels Polaris tug at her mind. Her eyes move over to one of the two chalkboards beside them. Jesse stands, hands moving to his shoulders and giving a gentle tug to the worn tweed coat for him to follow.
The chalkboard is blank and her head tilts slightly. Polaris shimmers around the boars. Jesse frowns a moment before she pushes on it, finding that it is on some sort of hinge. She pushes against it, then reaches up to the otherside and pulls it down. A few steps backwards and Jesse finds herself looking at a side of the board that's entirely filled out. Pictures of locations, notes of "scenes" beside them. Summaries beside them. Notes--lots of notes.
So many notes it almost hides the board underneath.
Jesse reaches out with one hand to take his; give him an anchor as she looks over each note. She sees his wife's name. One about Mr. Door's talkshow. Someone named "Tim." A few locations.
« The Oceanview Hotel? That must be how he found his way to the Motel that one time. Huh. Hotel. I bet thats something to see.
But, this is it, isn't it? Where he plans out every version of Return. And, Initiation, I guess. Notes for what worked for edits, what didn't. Just how many times have we gone around... how many chalkboards did he fill up? »
Her fingers curl around his and give a squeeze. One she hopes is as comforting as she means it to be. ]
"Initiation Draft"... you haven't numbered it?
[ Her eyes fall on one note that is seemingly placed in the middle of the others. One that seems to be a bit newer--the paper hasn't changed color. Her other hand raises as fingers move across it.
"I promised her. Don't forget it.
Don't fucking forgetPut us in "Return."She pauses and stills for a moment. Her hand seems to tighten around his. A moment passes before she looks back at him. ]
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Her smile and the way her eyes light up warms him. It's cold beneath the waves, but when she's smiling at him like that, he doesn't feel it anymore. When she looks at him in that way, he almost feels as though he could come home. He could leave this place behind and put the nightmare behind him. The memories would still be there, but so would she.
His eyes remain closed as her thumbs brush against his beard. Why does he like her touch so much? He can't point to just one thing; all he knows is that her touch calms him even when everything inside him is a raging storm. Or, well, maybe a storm of panic and worry is more accurate. He is worried and stressed, and if he stops to think about it, he worries about the safety of everyone who's been dragged into this story. At the top of that list is Jesse, of course. She's already been murdered once, and that still feels like his fault.
Just thinking about it makes him feel sick.
If he can't die, then she can't either. Not again. Never again if he has anything to say about it. ]
They don't suit either of us, do they? [ Somehow, he manages to make that pun, even as he navigates the nervous storm that's inside him. ] But it's not hard for me to imagine you looking good in anything, even a suit. Honestly, though, I like the way you look right now. [ He likes the way her hair falls to frame her face. It makes him want to reach out and touch it like he's done before.
But then she's kissing him once more and tugging at the edge of his coat as if beckoning him to follow. He does without hesitation, stopping only when she approaches the chalkboard. There, he hesitates, watching her nervously as she takes in the side of the board that's covered in pictures and notes. So many notes. So much writing.
In between the notes and the pictures, wherever there's space, she might notice a five letter word written there. Not a word, a name. Her name. It's all over the board, and sometimes it looks as though the hand that wrote it was shaking, based on the unevenness of the letters.
Alan's gaze shifts away; he's not drifting or spiraling, but he doesn't want to watch as she looks over the board. Why? It's like it's giving her a look into his mind. She's seen that already, of course: seen how his thoughts run away from him, chasing each other in circles. She's seen the fears, the anxieties, the paranoia. But all of that is on display in some shape or form in the notes that he's written to try and outline the story.
It's very personal, and somehow, as silly as it sounds, he never imagined anyone would see it but him. His gaze remains lowered even as she reaches for his hand; he takes hers readily, fingers wrapping around it as if he's holding onto a lifeline. He is, isn't he? ]
No, I- Not yet. I don't really know why. [ Is it because I don't want to think about how many drafts I'll have to go through? Maybe. I don't know.
His eyes shift then to see what she's looking at, and when he realizes she's seen the note with his scrawled words about his promise to her and the admonition to not forget that promise, he looks down again, missing her own gaze by just seconds.
What will she think about me having to remind myself with a note? I should just remember what I promised without needing a reminder.
His gaze is turned down to stare at the floor, and his shoulders seem to have slumped an inch or two as if a weight is pressing him down.
That promise means everything to me. Keeping it IS everything to me. I always want us in the story: us finding each other, being together, loving each other. I wish that I could be confident there'd never be any risk to her, but I can't. That risk will never go away. But I have to tell her. I can't just assume she knows how I feel about keeping my promise.
With his eyes still turned down and looking at the floor, he says her name, his tone questioning but betraying his nervousness too. ]
... Jesse?
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[ Jesse's lips press together to keep herself from laughing at the pun. Her eyes gently roll, but the smile is still in her eyes. She gently hits her hand into his arm--playfully. ] You saw part of it. If you remember meeting me in the Motel.
[ He remembers the Light Switch Cord. Hopefully he remembers the key she gave him to her apartment too--maybe he has it on him or in his desk. Now that she thinks about it? She hasn't seen his messenger bag or the angel lamp. Does he only have those at certain times? ]
My hair's usually up though. So, you may not like that as much. [ Jesse thinks he'd rather dislike having that much of her hair pulled back. At least if he likes seeing her hair hang around her face. ] Maybe I'll change it when you're home.
[ Her fingers wrap around his tightly. He's cast her into the role of hero and lifeline. Normally she'd rail against being put in something like this without permission. But, maybe these roles are so natural that she doesn't think twice of it. All she thinks about is how she can do those roles better. Be more of them. Fulfill them.
She nods at his reasoning. It might be too maddening if he realized how many times they've been through it all.
Her gaze moves from the note her fingers rest on to the rest of the board once again. Then, she sees it. Her name written, sometimes scribbled, in any available place. A weight seems to press on her. If it was anyone else? She'd be horrified. But, she knows Alan, and knows his mind. Seen what the Dark Place has done to him--to his mind. It's not disturbing, or obsessive.
If anything? It hurts.
She had the feeling creeping on her that perhaps she didn't truly understand what it meant to insist he put them into the story. Not that she is apologetic of asking for it--but she is for demanding it in the way she did. There was no way to truly understand the enormity of the task for such a small thing. Now his reactions make all the more sense. She had a feeling that he was never thanked for all that he did... but now everything around it is truly settling down on her.
« He's been doing all of this by himself for how long? How many versions did this all go through before this version of Return? This is all such a mess. One big fucking mess. What can we do to help? Is there really anything we can do here? »
He says her name and it pulls her from the communication with Polaris. Her hand squeezes his tightly before slowly turning to him. Alan's gaze is on the floor, turned away, but he's still present in the room with them. He hasn't washed out.
She takes small step needed to be pressed into his personal space again. Her other hand reaches out to take his. Jesse was never much of a physical person until she met him. Now it's like she can't stop trying to hold his hand, or touch his elbow, or be close to him in some way.
Then, she rests her forehead on his shoulder. ]
I'm sorry. [ She hopes he understands what she's apologizing for. ] I didn't know how hard it would be for you. I shouldn't have demanded the way I did. I just...
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[ His expression shifts to something that's halfway thoughtful and halfway annoyed with the relative closed-mindedness that some people have. He might have been one of those people at one point. ]
Part of me thinks I wouldn't have. That maybe even back then, I could tell that something was different, even if I didn't know what. The things that I thought were brain waves of inspiration could have been things from behind the poster trying to reach me.
[ His own smile grows a little wider as he sees the way she presses her lips together like she's trying not to laugh. Maybe the Dark Place hasn't taken everything from him. Maybe it's left the little things behind. ]
Yeah, I remember. The Motel. You. The suit. I think you'd look good in something not so... constricting. [ A loose t-shirt and jeans. Something casual. And with her hair down. ]
I think I'd like it however you decided to have it. But since you asked, I do like your hair like this.
[ His gaze is still turned downwards, but his tone is resolute, if not filled with a certain emotion. ]
I did what you told me because I wanted to give you something in return, even if it was just a promise. I did it because- because you're important. We're important. We should be together, even with everything going on. I want us to be together, I-
[ He pauses when he feels her step back into his personal space and her forehead comes to rest against his shoulder. ]
I did it because I care about you. I care about you so much that I couldn't stand the thought of- of losing you again. To Scratch or anything else. And- And I still feel that way. I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to get hurt or killed.
But...
[ He pauses again. This realization has been a long time coming, and now that it's here, he's unsure how to explain it to her. How to make her understand.
And again, the thought of being an inadequate wordsmith in spite of his reputation arises. The words will come sooner or later; it's just a matter of saying them and not hesitating. ]
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[ Still, Jesse can only slightly smile. ] It would have been nice if you'd believe me even then.
[ Although, she knows that it would have hurt in a way too. Part of her would have latched onto him. A part she'd have to let go of because he was still married to Alice. He technically is still, and she hasn't forgotten it. She knows once the loops end, the AWE is over, that Alan is going to have to go back to Alice. Whatever ends up happening will... including if she has to let him go because he still loves his wife.
« But, he'd still be home. In our reality. Maybe writing books or short stories or for Night Springs again. He"d be alive and home. Even if it'd be with Alice... »
Jesse just let's her smile curve a little. The time isn't right for certain jokes, so she won't make them, just imply. ]
I usually wear things like that around the apartment. It's more... rock and roll if I'm outside and not at work. [ She isn't quite sure why her wardrobe matters. Probably because it's something real. ] I'll keep all this I mind, you know.
[ She has fallen quiet after her own words trailed off. Listening to what he says, his breathing, having a small frown on her face. She hadn't meant to put him in such distress about it all. Pushed him to a point where he obsessed over it. Even if that is more caused by the Dark Presence more than anything.
I just want to be with Alan. Nothing else matters. Not the Buearu, or Bright Falls. Maybe that's in the ending. Maybe the story is fighting it so much because it's already there and we're trying to change it. If I just let it happen, then...
« WHAT? No. No, that's not me. Or you. What is trying to sound like me? Us. Something is trying to sound like us. Alan is important. We're important. But not at the cost of everything else. What the hell? »
Her fingers shift to slide between his on both hands and clamp down around before he beings speaking. Polaris seems to get louder, blocking out whatever that Something is.
« It's not allowed in. Whatever it is. You can't let it in. »
A squeeze to his hands as he pauses in what he's saying. ]
I don't want to lose you either. Not again.
[ She understands. Some small part of her maybe had no realization of how much she loved him until he was laying there dead on the beach. A splash of reality hitting her like the wave coming in. No one is safe in this story, not even the editor. It's going to take away who it wants when it wants with no remorse.
Because Scratch--the Dark Presence--wants it all.
Her tight grip on his hands shifts to be even tighter. Slightly painful with how hard she's pressing onto his hands. Polaris resonates loudly--but not so loudly she drowns out everything. Just turned up both defensively. Protecting both of them.
Jesse presses her forehead to his shoulder.
She's fallen so much for him and she can't say it right. ]
I won't let it take you from me. These damn things have taken so much from me... You're not going to be one of them. [ She lifts her head only so she can press it into the crook of his neck. Part of that girl from Ordinary is peeking into the conversation despite how she tries to be the Director in that moment. ] You're mine. My Alan. It can't have you.
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[ He shrugs lightly, figuring this might sound weird to her. Embarrassing, even. And it might bring up unwanted memories of the family she lost. But it's something he feels is important, something he hasn't yet told her. ]
My mom gave me something: an old light switch. It was just a story she told me, but it made me feel better. It made the darkness not as terrifying. The light switch- the clicker could drive away the darkness. [ He shakes his head. ] A stupid idea for a stupid kid who couldn't sleep at night.
[ But it meant something to him as a kid, and it still means something to him now. ]
So, I mean to say: if I believed that a light switch could send the darkness away, I think I could believe you. But maybe that's not saying much about me.
[ I guess now that I think about it, I was a little messed up even back then, even as a kid. Maybe that's something we have in common. Maybe. Or maybe I'm just the crazy one in this equation. Maybe my crazy predates her crazy. Except I don't think she's really crazy, so... Yeah. Whatever. ]
Rock and roll, huh? [ He tilts his head to one side at that, wondering what she means. ] You're not secretly a rocker, are you? [ He already had the thought once that getting to know Jesse is like peeling away the layers of an onion. He's certain there's things he still doesn't know about her, just like there's things she doesn't yet know about him. ] I could see you liking Nirvana.
[ Or maybe she'd hate Nirvana, but it was the first band that popped into his head. When was the last time he even thought about something as normal as just listening to music? He already knows he can't remember. ]
What are you thinking right now? [ Maybe it's only in his head, but he thinks he can see something like an unsettled expression showing on her face. ] Is something wrong?
[ It's faint, but he can feel that resonance from Polaris shifting, growing... but why? He doesn't hesitate to squeeze her hands in return. And even when her grip tightens, he doesn't pull away. If she needs to hold onto his hands to ground herself, then of course he'll let her. How many times has he held onto her hands in order to do the same thing? They help each other as best as they can. ]
It's not taking you from me either. Nothing is. Not the Dark Presence, not Scratch, not anything. I'll fight it, even if I get so tired, I can't even stand up. I'll still fight it until- [ Maybe saying that is too dramatic, even for me. Too metaphorical, or something like that. ]
I'll fight to keep you with me. I'll fight to stay with you. [ It can try to wash me out. I'll fight back. ]
You're mine too. [ He wouldn't have ever said that so plainly if not for the fact that they both seem to know it's true. They found each other, and neither of them wants to let the other go. ] I won't let go.
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« He's still afraid of the dark. Except this Dark does have things that come to life in it. People carved out into empty puppets. Faces that shift. Items that can move on their own. This Darkness really is a monster and something to be afraid of. » ]
Maybe it drives the Dark away because you believe it will. There's... items are altered by events around them. Altered Items. Some are so powerful that they can impact and change not only themselves but reality. It's how parautalitarians can access what we can. I... just have more under my belt because I'm the Director. But, whose to say your light switch isn't actually magical because it is?
It changes the room around it by casting shadows away. It changes the reality we see and interact with. [ There is no dismissal in her tone. No denial. Complete and utter belief. ] It happened to me. I was... in the basement of the building Door does his show in. I was stuck. Then, this light came from nowhere and changed it all around me. I found the Light Switch Cord. It led me to your message...
[ « I really am weird. Hopefully he doesn't mind. Hopefully it's the right kind of insane. »
Jesse shakes her head slightly at his question. ] No. I... couldn't open up enough to be in a band. [ Her gaze drops and a sad smile takes her face then. ] I meant more like, leather jacket, jeans, sometimes a band t-shirt.
Nirvana was okay. But, I grew up a fan of the Old Gods of Asgard. Dad had a few of their vinyls and I was instantly hooked. [ Her gaze lowers slightly. ] I found the vinyl covers in the dump. They brought the entire Ordinary Dump to the FBC to study... made a diorama of the town... mapped out how the whole AWE started...
[ She frowns. ] They did the same thing for Hartman. He was in a containment cell next to a mockup of a lodge at Cauldron Lake. They were trying to get him to react to something, I guess. The documents I found didn't really say what they were looking for in him.
[ The frown turns into a slight smile at his words. The implications of the words both used imply some form of ownership, and some people might find it uncomfortable. Oddly enough, not Jesse. She feels ... wanted. Needed. Like she belongs with someone. Maybe it's screwed up, but what about her is normal?
Her eyes close as she presses her face into the crook of his neck. ]
It looks like we're both too stubborn for our own good. Maybe that'll help... now that we're working together, and I'm not just making demands. Even if you agreed? I'm sure how I went about it didn't make any of this easier.
I'm sorry. [ « I'm not sure I could say it enough to actually express it. He's dealing with so much shit. He doesn't need me making more shit for him to deal with. Not when I'm supposed to be here to help. » ] Is... there a way to make it work that won't be difficult on you? It might be a fight either way, if the powers that be are so against it.
[ « If his doppleganger wants to be him so much... why does he hate me? Is it just because of what I am? Or hes a mirror of Alan so he hates me as much as Alan loves me? I don't understand. I don't like not understanding this. »
His other questions haven't gone unheard or unnoticed. She just doesn't want to bring attention to it. Alan seems like he's in a delicate place at the moment. She can't imagine hearing about what she's hearing is going to make him any better in that place. He might topple over. Start to wash out again...
If I just stayed here, then he'd never go away again. I could stay here with him. We could finish the edits together. Find a way for the ending to make everyone happy. Then, just let it play out. We could be happy here together. Just the two of us. It's weird enough for us. Being in another place all together away from the real world. If he can't get out, why can't I stay here?
« STOP. Just stop it! I'm not going to indulge or argue with this. Fuck off! »
Jesse feels another spike of Polaris's resonance shoot through her. It's almost like a battle now. One that the resonance isn't entirely equipped to fight. Polaris cancels the Hiss and amplifies the light, but there's not much of it in the room. Regardless if it's coming from Alan or just being in the Dark Place period. Polaris needs something to make herself stronger to push out whatever this Something is.
Jesse takes a few steps back until she's against the desk in the room. Her hands tug on his, asking him to come with her. Then, she lifts herself to sit on the edge of the desk he's been using for years. Her hands slide from his to his elbows as she presses her forehead to his. ]
Alan. [ Her voice trembles slightly as she tries to figure out how to say it. How to let him know what's going on without being blunt and sending him out on a spiral in his mind. She doesn't know what it is, and she doesn't want it to get to him through her. ] I need you to listen, okay? Stay here and listen.
[ She finally opens her eyes again to meet his gray ones. She's always liked the color. It's unique, like him. ]
Polaris has been trying to reach you. Not just because you asked, but... because she's trying to make herself stronger here. In Bright Falls. She can't cancel out the Darkness because it's not what she does. She cancels the Hiss. The Hiss amplified the Darkness in Hartman, making him the Third Thing. Right? You remember that.
She can do the same for the Light. But, she's a benign resonance. She can change things, but it's harmonious, gradual. She can only make the Light stronger and louder... she can't replace it. [ Jesse presses her forehead to his more. ] That's why she's been trying to help you. You're the Champion of Light--the Torchbearer. If she can reach that part of you, she can help. But, you have to let her--us--in. I don't mean by loving me or agreeing with me.
You have to listen to her and bring yourself to her. [ She brings their hands up to rest in her lap. ] You have to take the light switch, believe it will help, then turn it on. She can help the way you want her to when the lights are on.
[ « Come on, Alan. I know you can. You're smart. You work in metaphors. Your books are laced with them. You know what I mean, but don't be scared and run away from it. Fight it. You can be that man again in some way. The one who jumped in the Lake to save his wife. »
Maybe he doesn't want to. Maybe he just wants to stay in the Dark with his nightmares and bring me in with him. Companionship. Someone to be in the Dark along side him. I could do it. I'm not an artist, it wouldn't try to do the same--
« SHUT UP. »
Her hands clamp around his elbows as Polaris's tries to build her resonance again. ]
Alan, you need to wake up. All the way. I need you to wake up. Please.
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[ He can't let himself linger on that thought for too long, because doing that would only cause him to lean more towards a feeling of futility, that maybe he should give up. The Dark Presence constantly tries nudging him in that direction, to just give in and let the story play itself out how it will. But he can't afford to do that. He won't allow himself to do that. ]
Maybe it is magical, but I don't think it's magical enough to free me from this place. Or maybe I just don't believe in it enough. I- it's complicated. I know it drives the shadows away, but it's not going to break down the walls between realities and let me escape.
[ Too late, Alan realizes he's sinking again. Slowly, not rapidly, but he's definitely sinking. ]
I'm sorry, I can't- I just can't. I- [ His face falls again, knowing he can't continue this topic of conversation. Feelings of hopelessness are never that far from him, but it seems that they're dangerously close to pulling him away from her again.
Talking about normal things like the possibility of Jesse being in a band is better than talking about what he's facing. What he's been facing. Maybe it's just a form of avoidance, but for him, facing his fears and this situation head on doesn't help. It just makes him spiral more. It's different when he's in the loops. In here, the darkness has all the cards and all the control. ]
I- [ He forces himself to draw a shaky breath and let it out again in an effort to calm himself back down. ] You'd look good in jeans and a band t-shirt. And a leather jacket. [ I hope she understands what I'm doing. I need to talk about something normal, or I'll wash away again. ] Out of the vinyls you found, which one did you like most?
[ It's not too difficult for him to imagine that maybe listening to the Old Gods makes her feel close to her dad. Or maybe it doesn't. Maybe it's just him making things up. But he likes to think of it being a positive thing for her.
Against his earlier resolution from just minutes ago, Alan puts forward a theoretical question based on what Jesse just told him. ]
What if you put me in a containment cell next to Cauldron Lake? What if it woke up Scratch, or lured Scratch in close enough that you and whoever else you brought with you from the FBC could stop him? What was that stuff you mentioned once? [ Again, Alan has to search through his confused memory to find the right thing he's thinking of. ] Black rock? Maybe it wouldn't work, but I don't know what the hell would anymore.
[ He falls silent as she presses her face against his neck. Sometimes he just wants to be quiet, to not talk for a little while. He's always talking, always writing, and sometimes he just wants quiet. Except too much quiet is what lets unwanted thoughts in. It's about finding the right balance. ]
Nothing about this is easy. I don't expect you or anyone else to make things easy. [ He laughs dryly. ] I'm not even making it easy for myself.
[ He shakes his head. ] Why are you apologizing? Nothing about this is your fault either.
[ He doesn't want to state it so plainly, but he's starting to believe that the only way for this to work is if it's hard on him. Maybe he's believed that all along.
She's right in thinking he's in a delicate place. He's drifting just as much as he is staying still: staying there with her. Oh, when he feels himself start to drift, he tries his best to fight the current pushing him away. But his efforts aren't the strongest, not anymore. Even the strongest of swimmers can tire when caught in a current. Alan's been caught in one for far too long, and he's beyond tired now.
If he knew that the Dark Presence was trying to lure Jesse in with its insidious voice that's disguised and camouflaged to hide the truth, Alan would react as strongly as he could. That's why he never wanted Jesse coming this close. It's not worth the risk. He can't stand the thought of her being touched by the darkness or being pulled beneath the waves like he was.
Her hands tugging on his is what pulls him out of his thoughts, away from the waves crashing against the shore of his mind. It takes a valiant effort on his part to focus on her, but he manages it in the end. ]
Jesse? I'm- I'm trying to listen. [ The roar of the waves wants to drown her out, but he's doing his best to pay attention. ]
Polaris. The guiding star. Your star. [ He hasn't forgotten these details, but he needs to remind himself. To keep the memory from fading too much. ] Nothing cancels out the darkness. [ Is it all a hopeless endeavor? No, it's not. It can't be.
He finds himself struggling to remember what she's talking about. The memories are still in him, in his mind, but they're becoming buried: stifled by the darkness. ]
Hartman. The Hiss. The Third Thing. I think I remember. Barely.
[ Jesse starts talking about light, and how it relates to Polaris. Or how Polaris relates to it. Alan's gray eyes seem to darken, as if whatever light still left in them is waning. ]
Do you see light in this room? [ The champion of light? The torchbearer? Whoever that is, he's not here.
He nods in the direction of the dim lamp on the desk. It barely lets off light at all, just like him. ]
Don't you see, there's only darkness here? The lights can't penetrate it, can't break through. The- the lights won't turn on. It's too dark. There's too much darkness.
[ I can't...
He leans instinctively into her touch even as he feels his fears pulling him away. ]
How? How do I wake up? I mean, really wake up? I don't know...
[ Suddenly Alan's voice is filled with desperation bordering on hysteria as he tries to fight against the swirling darkness that threatens to choke him. ]
... can you help me wake up?
[ Maybe she can't. Maybe I have to help myself wake up. But how? ]
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[ Her gaze softens. She isn't willing to say he's ready to give up, but, he's certainly wanting to avoid facing it. He's been fighting on his own for too long. He's tired. Probably scared. He hasn't had something or someone like she's had Polaris. It's been thirteen years of this room, these boards, the desk, the typewriter. It's possible he doesn't really fully grasp the fact that he's not alone in this now.
He has her. Polaris. ]
It's actually what I was wearing when I found the FBC. I literally took what I had on me, and took a bus, and went straight to New York. [ She smiles slightly at him. ] That's what I was trying to tell the woman in that recording. Polaris sent me instructions on where to be, where to go, and what day. I didn't know why or why it was important until I got there ... and went diving into the past. More than I thought I would.
I was always a fan of Children of the Elder God. Dad usually played the Greatest Hits. That's the one I found in the dump that the FBC had taken. No vinyl though... just the cover.
[ Her hands squeeze his once more. Though, she stills at his suggestion. What good would that do? They pulled Hartman across the country to the Oldest House. And, when Alice Wake showed up, he broke out. He trashed an entire sector of the Oldest House. How would doing something similar to Alan be any better?
« Scratch is more powerful than Hartman. He's been... apart of the Dark Presence longer, right? Or, he is the Dark Presence. I can't tell which one. They seem interconnected. I don't think it'd be a good idea to bring him to the Oldest House. Especially if he's in Alan. That's NOT happening. Never again. » ]
Hartman broke out and nearly tore the entire Investigations Sector apart. Scratch would devastate what's left of the Bureau. I can't take him back there. Especially not inside you. That's not happening, okay? You're not getting out of here just to sacrifice yourself on some grandiose scale because you feel guilty, Alan. That's just going to make it all worse and you know that. It'd be giving Scratch exactly what he wants: to be you.
[ She sighs and shakes her head. ] Something does cancel out the Darkness. Fights it. It's the Light. Come on, Alan. You KNOW this. How do I know you know? You were the one that taught it to me. Weren't you? When you sent me after Hartman.
[ The whole parade of events is horrifying for her to see. It's different from talking to Dylan possessed by the Hiss. Instead, she's sitting there just watching as the Dark Presence takes over his words little by little. She knows Alan. Understands how he writes, how he talks, how he thinks. The words are in his voice but they aren't his. His voice changes to match the cadence of the words. A duller tone, lacking of anything that makes him Alan Wake.
« No, he's wrong. There is light. It's not bright, but it's not smoldering either. But it's still HERE. He's still here. That's why he brought us here. Why else would he relate the color of my hair to fire, and refer to you as a guiding star? Other than my name for you. They both give off light. Those two things make things brighter. It's just not letting him see it, because if he does, then it's losing. And it needs someone to dream it free. That's what this Something is... isn't it? This voice in my head that's trying to be me. It's the Dark Presence. The same thing talking through him and making him believe what he's saying. He hasn't realized it's not HIM saying it. »
Jesse lets one of his elbows go and reaches back behind her. The flashlight on the desk vibrates until it sails perfectly into her hand. It clicks off. Now she understands why Polaris had her grab it. She always knows where they're going. The North Star.
Her gaze never leaves Alan's dull eyes. A panic fills her as his eyes darken, but she never lets it show. Sometimes she'll let her guard down and show him everything, but this isnt' one of those times. Not when he isn't himself. She won't give the Dark Presence, Scratch, whoever it is have that much power over her. That much control. There's only two beings she'll ever give that much control of herself over to.
Both are in the room with her right now.
With an unwanted guest.
Not only are his words wrong, but how he's acting is wrong. It's not her Alan at all--the real Alan Wake. It's the Alan Wake that the Dark Presence is trying to carve him into. The one that will give up and let it take over. He always has a particular tone and sound in his voice when he's speaking with her, to her, narrating at her. All of that is gone. Now it's just the man the wave of the Dark Place leave behind when it washes him out.
He probably doesn't even realize who she is.
« Just a fiery guiding star in the night sky. One the drowning man is trying to grasp onto from the small driftwood he's hanging onto.
Fine. That's fine. I can play that role if that's what he really needs--deep down. If the Director and Jesse can't help? Fine. We'll do that. We can't let him drown. »
『 She knew that desperate acts can have grim consequences. It was this, more than the man's despair, that made her follow the call. 』
« He knew me that well even back then. »
She gently slides the flashlight between his hands in her lap. Her own hands clasp around his. Thumbs brush along his to guide them to the switch on the side. She doesn't press in on them just yet.
｟ Alan. ｠
Jesse lets out a shaking exhale. She's never done this before--let Polaris take over this much. But, it's what her best friend tells her to do. She trusts Polaris with everything... but it still scares her to let go this much. She'll do it.
Around one constant they revolve. ]
｟ Alan Wake. ｠ [ Jesse feels the words come from her. Her voice and Polaris's resonance being spoken out loud, not just said in Alan's mind. ] ｟ Darkness only exists where Light does. One makes the other. The other clings to it's maker. Around and around they go. Spiraling down together. Spiraling up together. The Writer existing in the space between both and needing to know both to write his escape. Alan Wake, the Writer. The Writer who needs his words and his light to shape the Darkness. ｠
[ Jesse gently tugs him closer, placing her forehead to his for this brief moment. She's hoping the words reach him and resonate--to finally free him of the ocean in his mind. So he can be Alan Wake again.
« Even if in the end he can't be Alan Wake with me. »
The thought of that hurts as much as losing Dylan did. Straight into her core, and the expression shows in her eyes. She's so afraid of losing him like she lost everyone else. ]
｟ You called me, and here I am. I'm here. The fiery guiding star. The star can point the way, hold out her hand to save the drowning man, tell him what he needs to do. The Writer must decide who he is. ｠ [ Her voice wavers between Polaris' resonance and Jesse's voice at times, but still harmonizes between the two. ]｟ Will Alan Wake be the Champion of Light, or allow the Harold of Darkness to take him? Will he chose the ending written already, or follow the path that revolves under the star he called? ｠
[ Jesse is practically screaming in her own mind. Scared, worried, panicking because she can't control the situation. He has to come home. He promised. She presses against his forehead again as her gaze begs him to pick who she knows he is, but ultimately, she can't make him chose. She can't pick his decision. She can't control it.
And that scares the hell out of her.
She feels herself pull back. Polaris is making her do it. Not away from him entirely, but removing that touch of their foreheads. Her hands remain around his with the flashlight. That gentle resonance that belongs to uniquely them channels into his hands and into the flashlight. The one that rests between his hands and remains off despite how Jesse's fingers overlap his to help him press the switch.
Polaris nor her host can turn on the light for him.
He needs to decide if he'll continue to fight and grasp onto the light and finally free it... or drown away in the waves of the darkness. ]
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Just because it so happens that the nightmares became real for me doesn't mean kid me wasn't silly. But, for what it's worth, thanks for never dismissing me as just some nutjob. I know I don't need to say it, and we've had this discussion, but- I just want you to know that I'm... Well, I'm grateful.
[ In ways that Alan can't quite explain, he feels as though he's his best self when he's with people like Jesse and Alice. Both of them highlighted his good side, and brought out what positive aspects he had. He doesn't feel like a very desirable person when left to his own devices, but something about them makes him want to be better. ]
I still wish that I had half of your confidence, though. [ He still can't envision a way out for himself, so maybe in a way, he still hasn't grasped that he's not facing this fight alone anymore. He has allies, but it hasn't fully registered. ]
I'd say that qualifies as dedication. Focus. Determination. Things you seem to have in spades. Polaris guiding you along the way probably helped.
[ It's only an observation on his part, although he has wondered before if his own journey would have turned out differently if he had someone like Polaris guiding him too. But there's very little point in wishing for it now, not when he's this far into said journey. Although he's not sure how much progress he's really made, given all the loops and everything else. ]
I know what you're saying, and I get it, but- he can't be me if he's dead. And if he's inside me, what's stopping him from just being killed like any other person? If he was distracted, if he didn't expect it, maybe he could be stopped for good.
[ It would have to be fast. It would have to be violent; a bullet to the head isn't good enough. Taking off the head? I can't suggest that to her, but that's the kind of drastic action I think it would take. I think that to stop Scratch for good, the way it happens has to be the kind that leaves no possibility of survival. Total destruction. But what if Scratch just went into someone else? Maybe an incinerator would do it. I'm definitely not telling her about that idea.
But the waves are coming back for Alan, intent on washing him away once more. He's no longer himself, not the Alan that loves her and wants to have a life with her. The Dark Presence is coming to life inside him, overwhelming everything that makes him who he is. With the Dark Presence in the driver's seat, he's no longer Alan Wake as Jesse knows him. He's carved out, empty. More of a vessel than a man. ]
The light? [ Alan's face twists into an expression that's unlike anything he normally wears. It's ugly, sarcastic, filled with disgust. ] The light can't break through this darkness. It can't even touch it. It's useless.
[ No, it's happening again. It's happening again..! It- I don't... this isn't what I want to happen. She can't see this. She can't be here-
Alan's desperate thoughts are cut off, drowned out by the darkness inside him. ]
Shut up. Just shut up. [ Alan's mouth moves, but it's not Alan saying those words. It's not Alan looking at Jesse with thinly veiled anger in his eyes. But Alan's not done; he hasn't given up full control to the Dark Presence. It's trying to wash him out, trying to control him, but he's trying to fight it off.
He's buried beneath the waves, drowning again, but he's still there. Still trying to claw his way back to the surface. His fingers curl against the flashlight that Jesse slidies into his hands. He knows what this object is, and he knows what it does.
I can use this to burn away the darkness. I've done it before. It works. It always works. But is it strong enough now? Am I strong enough?
The voice that's Jesse's but not Jesse's at the same time breaks through Alan's thoughts. If Jesse's watching close enough, there's no missing the immediate reaction that's two-fold. Alan's form gives a great jerk, as if the darkness inside him is recoiling away from that voice. But the person that's still Alan Wake stubbornly coils his fingers further around the flashlight.
Alan's mouth moves, but the words that come from it aren't his. ]
Darkness will drown out everything. It'll drown you out. It'll drown me out. Everything will become darkness. It's already started. It spreads from me through the cracks in the wall. You can't stop it. The light isn't shaping the darkness. The darkness is shaping YOU.
[ Alan's eyes have widened, his form stiff and rigid. This isn't right. I can't let this happen. I- I SAID SHUT UP. It seems that the ocean doesn't want Alan's words to be heard. He can't speak over the roar of the waves, but he can feel Jesse's presence. He can feel the way she presses her forehead against his. He's still in there somewhere, still trying to reach out even though he's being overwhelmed.
A muffled moan escapes Alan, and this time, it sounds more like the man himself and not the dark entity that's tearing him away. It's a power struggle, and the Dark Presence has most of the power. But Alan's not done yet. ]
I'm- I'm the Champion of Light. The torchbearer. I- Polaris is stronger than you. [ Alan's tone is quiet; it's almost barely audible. But it can still be heard in the silence that characterizes the writer's room. ]
The light is stronger than the darkness. Why? Because the light has allies. What do you have?
[ The Dark Presence doesn't like that, and it crashes the full force of its strength down on Alan. His back arches and his head tips back, but he doesn't let go of the flashlight. Still, the Dark Presence forcibly takes Alan over once more, using his mouth to form words. ]
You'll lose. You'll all lose. Your reality will be drowned. All will be drowned.
[ He registers Jesse pulling back from him, but he can still feel her hands on his. The Dark Presence is still using his mouth, and words flow from it in a confused, jumbled torrent. It's variations on the same thing: drowning the world in darkness. Drowning out all forms of life. Nothing is stronger than the darkness.
But the darkness hasn't counted on a little thing called willpower. Alan might not have much left, but he still has some. And what he doesn't have is bolstered by that resonance flowing into his hands and into the flashlight: a spring of light flowing from Polaris.
You won't win every time.
It's slow and barely noticeable, but Alan's fingers bend: slowly at first but gradually moving more and more. The skin of his fingers turns white as he presses against the switch on the flashlight. The Dark Presence is screaming insults in his mind, but he's ignoring all of them. He's trying to, anyway.
You won't win. Not this time.
At first, there's just silence. Stillness. Alan doesn't move. Only his fingers continue to press against the switch. And then there's a click, and the room is illuminated with a beam of light.
The switch has been pressed, and the flashlight has turned on. But the Dark Presence isn't done with Alan just yet. A primal roar echoes around the room, a sound ripped forcibly from Alan. It's not Alan making the sound, but it's his voice. And the voice is angry. Incensed. The flashlight was not supposed to turn on. The writer wasn't supposed to have the will to resist. ]
You'll pay for this. You'll pay.
[ It's a strange scene to behold, certainly. Alan's still holding onto the flashlight, still pressing against the switch even though the beam is still holding steady. But the expression on his face is one of rage. Rage directed at Jesse. At Polaris. At Alan himself. The light might be on, but the Dark Presence isn't letting go so easily. Not just yet. It still has Alan in its clutches. His eyes remain darkened and the look on his face is nothing like Alan's normal expression. It's definitely not how he normally looks at Jesse. No, the Dark Presence is still in control, and Alan is still washed away by the waves. ]
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Still, Jesse smiles at his thanks.
He continues on and her expression changes. Hard, determined, her own mind made up. They aren't using him for bait. She's not going to leave him out for Scratch to take. He promised her that he'd come home. That they could have a life together. She isn't going to eat him break that promise just because he's scared or ready to give up.
Although, as the scene in front of her plays out, she understands why he suggests what he does. He's not really Alan the moment.
Watching his face contort brings up memories of finding Dylan for the first time. Finally meeting him after so long. How Alan's voice changes. How the viewed anger finally flares up. It's all too reminiscent of that moment with her baby brother behind glass. Dylan didn't see her then--all he saw was Polaris. The resonance he thought abandoned him.
You? YOU! You came through in the hole in you! We let you in.
Alan jerks away--mostly--and for a moment all Jesse can see is Dylan immediately resonating with the Hiss. Both beings reacting so violently to Polaris. Her hands remain around his. Resolute. Even if inside she's horrified by what she sees--scared that she can't do the one thing he's brought her to do.
Save him.
Her hands gently squeeze his as his voice comes through again over the violent energy bombarding from him. Through him. Forcing him to channel it. In some ways, it seems worse than the Hiss. The Hiss broke you down and forced you up into their collective. It doesn't seem like the Dark Presence cares for collectives. It want only itself and vessels to occupy for itself.
You'll lose. You'll all lose. Your reality will be drowned. All will be drowned.
It dawns on Jesse then that it's the reason Polaris has insisted on so much. Why they had to be here--even down into the Dark Place. The Dark Presence wants their reality, that much is obvious. But, Polaris has already "claimed" domain in a way. Her resonance beats through their reality and the idea of another entity moving in is unthinkable. Maybe it's cruel and inhuman to see it that way... but Polaris isn't human.
And this battle is bigger than just the writer the Dark Presence channels through and the woman that amplifies and generates Polaris.
She feels his fingers press the switch. Ever so gently, Jesse presses her fingers against his. A supporting gesture. Calm, collected, a foundation. They brisk over his as the flashlight clicks and its stream of light turns on between them.
A light that Polaris wastes no time in amplifying.
She resonates through the Light, finding the spaces to fit herself between to make the rays louder. Intense, but never painful. At least not painful to Alan.
The primal roar rocks the room and Jesse presses her feet to the desk to keep herself steady. Grounding Alan through their touch. A beacon--a lighthouse--above the waves to call him upwards. The fiery guiding star.
The rage on the Writer's face is met with a resolute stare from the amplifier. Polaris shimmers around Jesse, almost as if to stand in defiance of every word the Dark Presence threw at them. She shimmers brighter, intensifying the more th Dark Presence uses Alan's face, voice, mind. It's thin threat as ultimately, Polaris is an invader in the Dark Place. An entity not of this dimension who is making claims of her own.
Jesse's green eyes even seem to brighten. The sound made brighter by the light. The light made louder by the sound. ]
｟ Around one constant they revolve. Not you. ｠
[ Power rolls off of Jesse and into her hands. Through his, into the flashlight. The beam brightens to what might be considered near blinding for a creature of the night.
However, Alan isn't a creature of the night. He doesn't belong in the Dark. He has darkness in him, as does every human, but he isn't a servant or creature of the will of the dark. He belongs to the Light, and its why he was chosen for it. An artist both entities could use, but one's power he can naturally channel with his own.
Just as Jesse could always naturally channel Polaris. ]
｟ Grow brighter. ｠
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GO AWAY.
[ The words sound loud and harsh, tearing themselves out of Alan, but it's nothing compared to what happens next. The primal roar turns into screams, ripping themselves from the trapped writer who just wants all of this to stop. The sound is painful to the Dark Presence, and it's expressing that in the only way it can: by forcing its host to scream and struggle as if trying to get away from Polaris and that terrible sound. But there's nowhere to go, nowhere to run and hide from the sound.
Hiding beneath the desk wouldn't stop the sound. Not that Alan would let such a thing happen anyway. In his own way, he's trying to resist; trying to stop the Dark Presence from fleeing and hiding. As always, Jesse's touch helps. He can feel it, even though the Dark Presence has ways of drowning out all senses: sight, sound, feeling... It wants to drown out Alan entirely so that nothing remains of him, just the darkness inside, making him malleable, usable for whatever the dark entity wants.
It uses Alan again to betray its frustration and annoyance with the stubborn man who refuses to just give up and be its vessel. Alan's teeth grind together and his hands tighten against the flashlight, and for a second, it looks as though he could lift said flashlight and hurl it against the nearest wall. ]
Get rid of it. Evil. Cursed. Trouble.
[ It's forcing Alan to speak again, betraying its reaction to the sudden, unwanted incursion of light. Darkness can't spread when light is present; or at least, it slows down the pace, and that's the last thing that it wants.
The power originating from Jesse and Polaris and traveling from her hands to Alan's and into the flashlight angers the darkness more, and that anger shows itself in the lines of tension in Alan's form. He's still resolutely holding onto the flashlight, but he's beginning to hunch over as veins start to pop out in his neck. His shoulders start to shake, and although that look of sheer rage is still present, Alan manages to briefly break through the darkness and the shadows in his eyes lighten just a fraction.
I'm still here. I'm still in here, trying to get out. It's not going to-
But as before, the darkness covers him up again, cutting off his attempts at speaking. Thinking. Being himself. His eyes lock onto Jesse, and that look of hatred is clear in them once more. ]
You think that you make a difference here? You don't. You mean nothing. This light means nothing. The darkness means everything. You're only delaying the inevitable. Darkness will cover everything. All realities. All worlds. You will lose.
[ But the power is still alive and resonating, growing stronger, and something seems to shift. The Dark Presence keeps forcing Alan to speak, but something seems to be happening. ]
Darkness will cover everything. All realities, all worlds. You will lose. You will lose. You think you make a difference here? You don't, you-
[ Abruptly, the flow of words that are beginning to loop around stops. Something's stopped them. Alan's mouth opens again, and just one word comes out. ]
Stop.
[ Fingers curl more against the flashlight, the grip Alan has on it tightening even more. ]
You can't drown me out forever. [ More shadows seem to fade from Alan's eyes, the shades of black fading back into gray.
But something strange seems to happen then, something that Alan knows can only be explained and attributed to Polaris. The sound made brighter. The light made louder. The flashlight beam brightens, its light growing stronger. Louder. Brighter. All of it all at once. It's brief, only lasting for a second, but a reflection of the light shines through the windows of the room. For just a second, the darkness in the room is countered by the light.
The reflection of the light's beam seems to shine onto Alan, illuminating him against the darkness. The darkness doesn't like it, but the balance of power has shifted. Temporarily? Permanently? Who knows. But there has been a shift nonetheless.
Another roar sounds, just as primal as the last, but not nearly as loud. And then nothing but silence follows, stretching out for what must feel like hours. Alan doesn't move, doesn't say anything, but that feeling of a shift remains, just as the beam of light illuminating him stays where it is. ]
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Except neither things yelling at her are Alan.
« The irony of the Dark calling the Light evil. »
She wants to reach out and hold him as he hunches over. Polaris won't let her. He isn't truly Alan at the moment. It would just open a potential way for the Dark Presence to attack her--hurt both of them.
But, she sees Alan in his eyes. The gray eyes she loves, not the dark shadowy gaze staring at her. Her own green eyes soften at the sight.
« It's Alan. The real Alan--my Alan. He's still there. It hasn't taken him entirely. We have to keep trying. »
She can feel the shift around them. Something in the dream like reality has changed. She can't say she knows the Dark Place well enough to known what happened. If this was home, maybe, but it isn't. Only Alan can tell her. He's just unable to at the moment.
Her hands remain on his, channeling into the flashlight. She can feel her feet start to tingle as if they are falling asleep. There is so much power coming from Polaris and it's so draining...
The words stop and Alan speaks. The real Alan, not just being a puppet for another entity.
Everything else happens so quickly her mind is almost reeling from it all.
A sudden surge of light from outside the Writer's Room. Her eyes immediately snap to it, as if a spotlight has shone in. It envelopes Alan in the glow and another horrible scream echoes the room. Jesse looks back at Alan, but her eyes are more drawn to the wall behind him. The shadow play shows what she can only presume to be the Dark Presence leaving Alan's body forcibly and dissipating.
The whole room lights as if an overhead light has come on. Polaris resonates stronger, loudly, but not deafening or harmful. Just as if a gentle sound is pushed up to one of the main things coning through a speaker.
Then, heavy breathing through a mask.
« A... diver? What? » ]
『 Alan! Listen to me: go no deeper. Focus! You're losing yourself. I will try to help how I can, but you it's up to you. 』
[ Jesse blinks as the overlay of a Diver appears around Alan. It's coming through the Hotline even though the message is for Alan. Maybe because Polaris is helping the ..."Diver."
« It's not really a diver, is it? »
Everything seems to finally calm.
Jesse slowly let's go of the flashlight. Her shaking hands raise to rest on either side of his face. She isn't sure what to do or even what to say to him now. Is it really Alan Wake, or.... ]
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