[ That nudge continues to grow, to incessantly poke at Alan as if trying to get his attention. To get him to focus. He's trying to focus. To be present. But darkness keeps falling like a veil over his eyes, trying to pull him back down, to lure him back to sleep. ]
I won't let you. You can't.
[ He mumbles those words to himself as he tries desperately to ignore the darkness pulling on him and focus on that nudging sensation instead. The internal battle shows itself as a troubled look in his eyes, but he's fighting. He's trying to stay awake. ]
Thirteen years. I had no idea. [ He looks around the room then, eyes searching it, taking in what furnishings there are. ] It doesn't look that different. I thought, after thirteen years, things would have changed. Technology. I was never good with technology.
But time... time. You know, I don't think it exists there. Calendars, clocks, now that I'm thinking about it, I've never even seen one.
[ His expression shifts yet again, his mouth forming a thin line. ]
Why not? Everyone else wants me to do something. Fix the story. Change this. Add that in. I know it's my fault.
[ Alan frantically scrubs his face with the hand not holding the gun. ]
I'm sorry, you didn't- It's not you. It's- everything. [ He forces himself to take a breath then, in hopes of settling himself back down so he can read whatever it is she's holding up for him. ]
Did I write this, or the Dark Presence? I don't know why anyone would keep a page written by that, but... stranger things have happened. I'll give it back.
[ I have too many of these things anyway. If she wants to keep this one, she can have it.
He takes the page and starts to read, and he only gets through a few words before his breath hitches. ]
I know this page. I- [ His eyes are traveling all over the page now, taking in the blacked out words, the hole in the page, the arrow that he knows he drew there. The edits that he made.
The memory of it is coming back to him somehow. Inexplicably. ]
I wrote this. I changed this. Why? "I'm not making a demand". [ His eyes travel back to focus on Jesse. ] You asked me to change this, so I did. Isn't that right?
[ His tone is neutral. Not flat. Not accusatory. Just trying to make sense of this, when his memory has holes in it and he doesn't know the things other people seem to. ]
I had a feeling that I was missing something, but I didn't know what. I didn't want to say anything, because that sounds crazy, right? As far as I should be concerned, this is our first time meeting, but it isn't, is it? This says it isn't.
[ He's still reading it, but he's read through the parts talking about Jesse and Steve, which gives him back the insights he's lost about the director and the ranger. An image flares to life in Alan's mind: Steve and Jesse together, and she's telling him something. Not giving orders, because a second later, the ranger throws back his head and laughs. He nudges Jesse in the side with his elbow and grins toothily at her.
Then he continues reading, reaching the part that's about them. Again, images flare to life.
He's in the writer's room. Alone. It's silent there, the eyes of the owl on the wall trained on him. He's ignoring it. He steps closer to the chalkboard and picks up the chalk. He begins to write. Not write. Scribble. Furiously. Quickly. Pieces of chalk fly around him. The chalk snaps in half and he grabs another one. By the time he's done, a name is scribbled all over the board, wherever there's an empty space.
The scene shifts again, and this time, he sees himself standing at the desk. His eyes are wild, and the hand that's holding a pen shakes. His entire frame is shaking. His lips are moving but no sound comes from them. Then, he starts to move, slowly at first but increasing in speed. The pen scribbles furiously against the page. He starts to write. Ink flecks fly into the air and land on his face with the speed of his writing. Finally, when it seems that he's finished, the pen falls from his hand, and he falls back into the chair.
Alan in the sheriff's office lowers the page, and his gaze zeroes back in on Jesse's. ]
I gave you this so that I could remember, if I forgot. If I forgot about us. About you.
[ I must have known that something would make me forget. Maybe I made myself forget, to get the story right. But how does that work if the page helps me remember? Does that then change the story? Did I write her giving me the page to read? It just keeps looping and I don't know the answer... ]
Well, all I can say is, it looks like we have to do what the page says, and that's work together. If a fight is coming, I'm coming too.
[ And for just a second, that look of determination is back in Alan's eyes. ]
no subject
I won't let you. You can't.
[ He mumbles those words to himself as he tries desperately to ignore the darkness pulling on him and focus on that nudging sensation instead. The internal battle shows itself as a troubled look in his eyes, but he's fighting. He's trying to stay awake. ]
Thirteen years. I had no idea. [ He looks around the room then, eyes searching it, taking in what furnishings there are. ] It doesn't look that different. I thought, after thirteen years, things would have changed. Technology. I was never good with technology.
But time... time. You know, I don't think it exists there. Calendars, clocks, now that I'm thinking about it, I've never even seen one.
[ His expression shifts yet again, his mouth forming a thin line. ]
Why not? Everyone else wants me to do something. Fix the story. Change this. Add that in. I know it's my fault.
[ Alan frantically scrubs his face with the hand not holding the gun. ]
I'm sorry, you didn't- It's not you. It's- everything. [ He forces himself to take a breath then, in hopes of settling himself back down so he can read whatever it is she's holding up for him. ]
Did I write this, or the Dark Presence? I don't know why anyone would keep a page written by that, but... stranger things have happened. I'll give it back.
[ I have too many of these things anyway. If she wants to keep this one, she can have it.
He takes the page and starts to read, and he only gets through a few words before his breath hitches. ]
I know this page. I- [ His eyes are traveling all over the page now, taking in the blacked out words, the hole in the page, the arrow that he knows he drew there. The edits that he made.
The memory of it is coming back to him somehow. Inexplicably. ]
I wrote this. I changed this. Why? "I'm not making a demand". [ His eyes travel back to focus on Jesse. ] You asked me to change this, so I did. Isn't that right?
[ His tone is neutral. Not flat. Not accusatory. Just trying to make sense of this, when his memory has holes in it and he doesn't know the things other people seem to. ]
I had a feeling that I was missing something, but I didn't know what. I didn't want to say anything, because that sounds crazy, right? As far as I should be concerned, this is our first time meeting, but it isn't, is it? This says it isn't.
[ He's still reading it, but he's read through the parts talking about Jesse and Steve, which gives him back the insights he's lost about the director and the ranger. An image flares to life in Alan's mind: Steve and Jesse together, and she's telling him something. Not giving orders, because a second later, the ranger throws back his head and laughs. He nudges Jesse in the side with his elbow and grins toothily at her.
Then he continues reading, reaching the part that's about them. Again, images flare to life.
He's in the writer's room. Alone. It's silent there, the eyes of the owl on the wall trained on him. He's ignoring it. He steps closer to the chalkboard and picks up the chalk. He begins to write. Not write. Scribble. Furiously. Quickly. Pieces of chalk fly around him. The chalk snaps in half and he grabs another one. By the time he's done, a name is scribbled all over the board, wherever there's an empty space.
The scene shifts again, and this time, he sees himself standing at the desk. His eyes are wild, and the hand that's holding a pen shakes. His entire frame is shaking. His lips are moving but no sound comes from them. Then, he starts to move, slowly at first but increasing in speed. The pen scribbles furiously against the page. He starts to write. Ink flecks fly into the air and land on his face with the speed of his writing. Finally, when it seems that he's finished, the pen falls from his hand, and he falls back into the chair.
Alan in the sheriff's office lowers the page, and his gaze zeroes back in on Jesse's. ]
I gave you this so that I could remember, if I forgot. If I forgot about us. About you.
[ I must have known that something would make me forget. Maybe I made myself forget, to get the story right. But how does that work if the page helps me remember? Does that then change the story? Did I write her giving me the page to read? It just keeps looping and I don't know the answer... ]
Well, all I can say is, it looks like we have to do what the page says, and that's work together. If a fight is coming, I'm coming too.
[ And for just a second, that look of determination is back in Alan's eyes. ]