[ Barbara's words crash onto Alan like a ton of bricks and he staggers as if he's actually been struck with something. ]
Wh- No, no, she can't be dead! [ Alan lurches away from Barbara as she keeps talking, keeps saying those terrible words that might as well be punches aimed at him that he can't dodge.
Horror and grief wash over him and he finds he can't remain standing any longer; there's a thud as he falls heavily to land on his knees, and his entire frame just drops. ]
... She's dead. [ A part of Alan rebels against this, because what if Barbara is just screwing with him? What if Alice is perfectly fine? Alive and well and not here? Why should he believe Barbara's words?
But all he can hear repeatedly in his mind is you got her killed, and that more than anything else drowns out all rational thought.
Her explanations about how he can bring Alice back register dimly in his mind, but he doesn't really comprehend them. Even when she helps him stand and guides him over to the desk, it's clear that Alan's movements are automatic. Rote. He's not really thinking about what he's doing.
He doesn't speak or even react, not even when Barbara rushes to the door and screams at something that she's seen there. Darkness falls over the cabin, and Alan just sits at the desk, eyes staring blankly at the typewriter in front of him. The sound of breathing from a diving suit dimly registers in his thoughts, but he can hardly form a coherent thought right now, not when all of his thoughts are focused on Alice and getting Alice back.
He writes, and then he writes more, and page after page piles up on the desk as Barbara stands next to him whispering in his ear. He doesn't see anything but the typewriter, although some dim spark of his awareness tells him he should look up and look at the window. But Barbara drowns that out too, telling him he just needs to keep writing, and then Alice will be saved.
Barbara is always there, always watching and telling him to keep writing. Focus on the work and nothing else. The pile of pages keeps growing, and Alan doesn't look out the window. That is, until one day, the pattern grows brighter for a brief moment and that brief flash catches Alan's eye. He turns his head to look out the window before Barbara notices, but as soon as he does, the pattern grows dim again. He turns his attention back to his writing.
That is, until he spots light shining in underneath the door, and a voice says his name. In an instant, Alan is standing up from the typewriter and making a beeline for the door.
He presses his hand against the wooden surface and feeling a little ridiculous, because there can't really be someone talking to him through the door, he says: ]
... Hello? Is someone there? [ He knows it has to be in his head; it must be something he's imagining. No one probably even knows he's missing, much less cares to look for him. And it shouldn't matter anyway, since his priority is finishing the story and saving Alice.
no subject
Wh- No, no, she can't be dead! [ Alan lurches away from Barbara as she keeps talking, keeps saying those terrible words that might as well be punches aimed at him that he can't dodge.
Horror and grief wash over him and he finds he can't remain standing any longer; there's a thud as he falls heavily to land on his knees, and his entire frame just drops. ]
... She's dead. [ A part of Alan rebels against this, because what if Barbara is just screwing with him? What if Alice is perfectly fine? Alive and well and not here? Why should he believe Barbara's words?
But all he can hear repeatedly in his mind is you got her killed, and that more than anything else drowns out all rational thought.
Her explanations about how he can bring Alice back register dimly in his mind, but he doesn't really comprehend them. Even when she helps him stand and guides him over to the desk, it's clear that Alan's movements are automatic. Rote. He's not really thinking about what he's doing.
He doesn't speak or even react, not even when Barbara rushes to the door and screams at something that she's seen there. Darkness falls over the cabin, and Alan just sits at the desk, eyes staring blankly at the typewriter in front of him. The sound of breathing from a diving suit dimly registers in his thoughts, but he can hardly form a coherent thought right now, not when all of his thoughts are focused on Alice and getting Alice back.
He writes, and then he writes more, and page after page piles up on the desk as Barbara stands next to him whispering in his ear. He doesn't see anything but the typewriter, although some dim spark of his awareness tells him he should look up and look at the window. But Barbara drowns that out too, telling him he just needs to keep writing, and then Alice will be saved.
Barbara is always there, always watching and telling him to keep writing. Focus on the work and nothing else. The pile of pages keeps growing, and Alan doesn't look out the window. That is, until one day, the pattern grows brighter for a brief moment and that brief flash catches Alan's eye. He turns his head to look out the window before Barbara notices, but as soon as he does, the pattern grows dim again. He turns his attention back to his writing.
That is, until he spots light shining in underneath the door, and a voice says his name. In an instant, Alan is standing up from the typewriter and making a beeline for the door.
He presses his hand against the wooden surface and feeling a little ridiculous, because there can't really be someone talking to him through the door, he says: ]
... Hello? Is someone there? [ He knows it has to be in his head; it must be something he's imagining. No one probably even knows he's missing, much less cares to look for him. And it shouldn't matter anyway, since his priority is finishing the story and saving Alice.
... Right? ]