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outlierdirector) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
synthneon2023-12-08 03:31 pm
outlierdirector) wrote in synthneon2023-12-08 03:31 pm
oceanview || ❝ made a promise i'm coming out alive. ❞
Through the waves, I break
The nightmares finally over
no subject
The Shadow--what you refer to as the Dark Presence--could find out that you're here. Which means we need to be prepared for Shadowed Individuals--Taken--to storm the place. I'm sure they'd show up even if you were still with the FBI. [ Her head tilts to the side. ] You could say it's not a fan of someone I know.
[ « That being you, of course. We already cleansed the control points here. That's bound to piss it off. The Dark Presence is territorial... which explains why it won't give up Alan. » ]
We'll find a way to secure you. Don't worry. It'll be away from the two brothers. Maybe they can make themselves useful for a change.
no subject
So... you know. You know about the Dark Presence and the Taken. But then you need to know something else. [ His head pounds, but it's not as debilitating now as it was when she first tried to talk to him. ]
It's going to find out. Maybe it already knows. But- [ It's not here yet. Maybe it's still coming. I'll know when it's here. I wish I didn't know, in a way. Then I wouldn't have to dread it coming. ]
I think... I think you should lock me back up. Somewhere away from everyone. Somewhere with the strongest locks and bars and whatever the hell else you have.
[ I don't know if even that will be enough. But they'll all be killed if they don't do something. ]
Maybe that'll buy you all some time. Time to get away.
[ They're not going to run. She's not going to run. I don't know how I know that. ]
no subject
[ « Is he trapped in a loop--or are all of us? We've had this conversation before. How many times? » ]
That's not happening, Wake. It's completely off the table. [ She manages to pull her hand from the tight grip on the table and gesture yo thr double doors. ] No containment in this building is strong enough to keep you in if it finds you. Our containment cells couldn't keep Hartman in check in HQ and we're not nearly as equipped now
[ She looks at him evenly. ]
I either put guard detail on you underneath a stadium light, or you fight with us if it comes to it. Those are the options until we get what you need to end the story.
no subject
Look, you want to know what was going on before your people picked me up? [ This doesn't feel familiar. Maybe it didn't come up before. If there was a before. Why do I feel like there was a before? ]
I don't have all the details, because I was... going crazy. Out of my mind. Something was trying to take my mind. [ Scratch... ] Do you know how it feels when something is trying to take your mind?
[ Maybe she does, but I don't know how she'd know. I just think she might know better than most. ]
It's no picnic. [ He wonders if she'll make the connection between the headaches and what he's saying. ]
Fine. No cells, but you just need to know, all of this? [ He points at his clothes. ] That didn't just happen on its own.
[ Does she realize that people are going to die? ]
Are you going to give me a gun? [ He's been refused that before, on the grounds of safety, but he can't fight if he's unarmed. ]
no subject
Lashing out to get people to trust him and listen.
She already does but he doesn't realize it because he doesn't remember her.
« It's not supposed to go this way. We're not supposed to argue. I know reunions are never how I imagine; how I want them to be. But, this isn't helpful to either of us. »
Her fingers curl to the point the wood underneath them splints. It can be heard faintly.
This part feels familiar. A different time. Being hurt, scared, trying to reach him. She's not desperate now like like was then.
She reaches behind her and pulls a standard pistol back from her waistband. It was the gun she was going to give him anyways. She has the Service Gun. There's no need for another firearm. Her hand curls around it before holding it out to him.
The moment he puts his hand on it, she uses it to pull him closer. Not intimately close, but enough so she can lower her voice. ]
Yes. I know what it's like. [ Her green eyes stare into his gray ones in hopes he can remember without her needing to give him the manuscript. ] The Cult attacked you and Agent Casey. They found you in the woods. Casey is still MIA.
[ « I don't want to argue. We don't have time. I want him to remember. » ]
Alan. We don't have the time to fight. [ Jesse frowns slightly. It's almost too hard to be just the Director around him. ] There's a flashlight behind you if you need it with the gun. In case we're attacked tonight.
no subject
I tried to warn the FBI agents about what was happening. Tried to explain how the story works, and how changing it isn't as simple as just writing down whatever you want. [ He glowers in frustration; not with her, but at the lack of willingness from people to listen. ]
I know it sounds insane. It all sounds like I'm making it up, lying for... for what? What would I even get from lying about this?
I've been missing for thirteen years, if I can believe what Anderson said. What would I gain from making up some giant lie? [ A lie about being in hell... a hell that feeds off my mind, my thoughts.. everything.
Alan's tone has changed, betraying his agitation and frustration at the situation. None of it is directed at Jesse specifically, and he's not even really looking at her while the words flow out of him. At least, not until she holds the gun out to him, and he takes it without much hesitation.
The brush of her hand against his stops him, makes him cut off his diatribe of hurt and frustration. Something nudges at his mind again, something trying to tell him to shut up and remember. Remember what? I don't understand. ]
When you say that, I almost believe you. But why? That's another thing I don't understand. I'm- [ He huffs out a humorless laugh. ] It's one more thing to make me sound insane, but I'm having these moments of feeling like I recognize this. It's familiar to me somehow. Not this specifically, this is different. But...
[ His gray eyes lock onto hers in return. ]
You. That agent who was waiting outside. Why do you feel familiar to me? [ His gaze shifts to the gun, and behind him to the flashlight. But right now, they're not important. Figuring out why his mind is telling him he should know things he doesn't is more important.
Is this in the story, and that's why I'm not remembering? Did I write this, but add in something about having weird flashes of familiarity? Did the story make me do this? ]
Wait. You called me Alan just now. Not Wake, not some pun about waking up or sleeping.
[ If he was in a better mood, he'd actually find those funny. But he's just staring at Jesse as that feeling of repetition, of familiarity, takes hold again. ]
no subject
« We really are alike. Aren't we? That must be the real reason--deep down--that we fell in love. Regardless if the weird and insane was real, someone else believed us. They took the time to listen and not just entertain the thoughts and ideas. Or, maybe I'm projecting. That might just be why I fell in love with him. »
Green eyes lock onto gray eyes. Searching for an answer to an unspoken question: Do I wake those memories up, or are they left better forgotten to end the story?
She's already demanded something of him once. Made him change the story for the one thing she wanted. They got this far before because of it... but there's so much guilt wrapped up in the demand. His handwriting had been enough to tell her how hard her demand was to request. She doesn't want to put him through it again. Not when everyone else must be screaming and yelling at him to fix it.
She keeps her hand over his on the gun. ]
It's 2023. It's been thirteen years. You contacted me four years ago to deal with Hartman. [ Her head cants to the side. ] Time is different between here and the Dark Place, isn't it? It could feel like eternity there, but only be a handful of years for us in our reality--the one you come from.
[ She reaches into the inside pocket of the tactical vest. Out comes a neatly folded manuscript page, torn in one corner. She holds it up between her index and middle finger. If he tries to reach for it she pulls it back from his hand. ]
I'm not trying to tell you to change something in the story, Alan. I'm not making a demand. [ « I won't do it. Not again. I'll force the story to change--not for him to change it. » ] Read it if you want to. If not, I'll keep it on me, and we'll go back to answering your questions. Well, more like your frustrated rambling, but we can go back to that.
Either way, just give it back.
[ Jesse then extends her hand the short way needed for him to take the manuscript. Once he does, she let's go of his hand as well. Both then return to their position curling around the edge of the desk. Her gaze remains on his for a moment more before dropping and looking away to give him privacy. Well, whatever of it can count in a office space that's not really hers.
The manuscript page is like several others. Half written by typewriter, the other half blacked out by furious pen marks. A hole even resides in it, pierced by a ball pooint pen. An arrow points to the blocked out section, and eyes following it would see the handwritten edits.
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. ]
no subject
Nothing is said to his apology or the question of who wrote the page. He'll have an answer to it soon enough. Her gaze drops to the floor in front of her. Something in her doesn't want to see his face as he reads the page he gave her. The guilt of demanding he edit the story. The shame that she even pulled it out to force the story to change to her whims. She can remember him saying he thought it was worth the struggle as he had always wanted them back in the story. After Scratch got her the first time. That somehow still doesn't erase the guilt she feels. Especially as she hears how everyone regards him about being the "author" of the story.
He didn't even write it.
You asked me to change this, so I did. Isn't that right?
« It was a demand... or a plea. Something that caused him pain when I asked. Something that caused him more stress and agony than he needed. I... I don't regret that I wanted us back. Just, how I did it. It was emotional and pressing, but, I know the toll it took on him. Even if no one else knows or cares. I do. »
Her head tilts to the side slightly even with her eyes trained down. ]
Good. [ A flat tone, guarded, maybe a hint of fear. That he read it and still doesn't remember them. Her hands curl slightly more into the desk and she feels her fingers beginning to leave dents in the wood. Reminiscent of another loop. ] We took control of the station already. I mean. Polaris and I. The only weak spot is the morgue, again, because of the lack of light. Steve and Estevez are working on it. Casey is still MIA... and I don't know where Saga is. Though, I'm guessing she'll show up sooner rather than later.
[ She blinks a few times. Mentally trying to get herself up and going from the room. He at least trusts the page, so that's good enough for now. More than she can ask for. ]
no subject
Why?
The memories are slowly working their way back in, thanks to the page he's read, but there's still some missing information.
Is she afraid of me? Did she decide, after everything, to keep me at arms' length for some reason? I don't understand why that would be, or why she'd show me the page if that isn't how she feels. No, that can't be it. There's something else. What am I not seeing?
He nods along, listening to her explanation of what they've done so far, and he understands most of it. The mention of Polaris gives him pause. The page said something about her guiding star, but the memory of what exactly that is seems to have not quite reached him just yet. Maybe it will with time.
He has a suggestion for what to do with the morgue, but they've most likely thought of it already, so instead, he goes for the other thing he wants to say. The other thing that, in all honesty, feels more important, at least right now. ]
Jesse...? [ His tone is suddenly hesitant, and he feels his gaze shifting to look at the ground. He feels hesitant, but he knows he has to do this now, before he loses his nerve and talks himself out of it. In a way, it feels like he has no right to do anything, and he wouldn't dare, if it wasn't for that page.
He takes an equally hesitant step closer, but then he stops there before he can go any further. ]
no subject
Her eyes lift. After another moment they raise to his, locking onto his gaze immediately. She is scared. Not of him, but that it didn't work. Scared that her hail mary failed and at best will be fragmented memories. Memories that mismatch and make no sense so they are brushed to the side.
Her knuckles turn white as she presses further into the lip of the desk. The wood cracks slightly.
« I just want him home. With me. With the life we've talked about. » ]
Alan. [ Her voice is small and soft. He'll know the tone--won't he? ]
no subject
His gaze shifts again, moving away from where it was looking at the ground so that he can see her. He steps closer again. A feeling of wanting to lean in, pressing his forehead against hers, and then pressing his lips onto hers surfaces. Should I? I want to. Does she want to? ]
Jesse. [ He's close enough now, so he actually does press his forehead to hers. The kissing... he's still hesitating about that. But he wants to. And as he looks at her, all the hurt, all the confusion, all the desperation of the last twenty-four hours just melts away. The effects of it all linger in his eyes, but over all of it, there's just a look of wanting to be with her again. ] You're here.
[ He does know that tone. He hopes she recognizes his own. ]
no subject
Alan must have stayed awake.
Taking her hands from the desk feels almost like she's wrenching them off. They turn and she raises them, resting both on his elbows. There is a slightly tremor in her hands. The more noticable detail, however, is the familiar energy that seems to just fall from her hands. Like a steady humming stream.
Polaris is there too--of course she is. Beating into the floor of the station and through the parking lot outside. A beacon of amplified light in the darkening town.
Her eyes close as she presses her forehead against his further. Plenty of words come to mind. Thoughts she won't voice as they're repetitive and unneeded. ]
Of course I'm here. You called us, so here we are. [ Jesse pauses to give a sharp inhale. Controlling her emotions. ] You're not going to fight the Dark Presence alone anymore.
no subject
What am I missing? I know I'm missing something. Maybe it'll come back eventually. But do I even have time for "eventually"?
His gaze travels to where her hands have come to a stop against his elbows. He thinks he's always liked it when she touches him, but now... it feels different. He likes it, and he wants more of it. Contact with another living person. It doesn't matter what kind of contact. It could just be a supportive, helpful touch, something to reinforce the idea that he's not alone.
There's something else too, something besides Jesse's touch, but Alan's having difficulty focusing on it. Maybe he knew what it was once, but something's obscuring it from him. He can faintly sense it, but that's it. It's there, but faint. ]
I.. I called you. I think I remember. Vaguely. Everything's vague, like it's hidden from me. Or hiding. I don't know where to look to uncover it. Maybe there's more answers in that page. Or do you have the answers somehow?
[ You're not going to fight the Dark Presence alone anymore.
She says those words, and Alan's shoulders seem to drop. Not because of anything bad, but because just those words on their own are words he never expected to hear from anyone. ]
It's been... it's been such a long time. I've been trying to fight it for so long. I never let anyone in, let anyone help. [ But she tried, didn't she? It's implied in that page. Or maybe I just think it is. ]
I... [ He's not nearly as good at controlling his emotions as she seems to be. His voice wavers, and a sheen of moisture covers his eyes. ] I don't want to do that anymore.
[ I need help. Is this the first time I've realized it? Admitted it? Even to myself? ]
no subject
[ A beat passes.
Polaris beats louder, trying to resonate with that spark inside him. She tugs at Jesse's mind with words and phrases. ]
The Champion of Light--the Torchbearer. Writer. Novelist. [ She finally opens her eyes to search his. ] You're all those things. But, to me, you're just Alan Wake.
[ « My Alan. »
She swallows and decides to move. Nothing is going to happen by simply going back and forth. Talking in circles. ]
The page was left vague on purpose. Maybe I have the answers and don't know it.
[ Another beat passes.
Then, Jesse leans forward to gently press her lips to his. A brief kiss. One almost like air than her lips. Just in case he isn't ready. ]
no subject
It's a feeling of missing something, missing something very important. It makes Alan feel as though he's lost whatever that something is. ]
A message to you, and... and the guiding star? I should know what that is; maybe I do somewhere in here, but it's obscured. Covered up. I called you because- because I was trapped.
[ Trapped. Desperate. Going mad. Drowning.
The spark is muted again, but something inside Alan is reaching out for it, instinctively. Automatically. ]
Sometimes I think I don't even know who that is anymore. But as long as someone does, I guess...
[ If someone knows who he is, then he can't be forgotten about. Right? He opens his mouth to say more, but then she's kissing him. Well, brushing her lips against his, and then several things seem to happen all at once.
More weight seems to fall from Alan's shoulders, shifting his posture, and he leans forward just a fraction too. The kiss was brief, but he doesn't want just a brush of air on his lips. He leans in more, and imitates the gesture, but he lingers just a fraction longer this time. ]
no subject
Still, Jesse nods to his description of the recipients of the message. Her hands gently press against his elbows a tad more to try and spread that feeling of Polaris. She'll take the confusion over the constant waves washing him out. This is manageable--something she can help change.
And she's certain that it will upset Scratch. The Dark Presence. The story.
They can fuck off, because she's tires of those three things dictating the story. Alan. Everything. ]
We just need to help you remember. Like we did before.
[ ｟ Alan. Alan Wake. Come home. ｠
Polaris shimmers around Jesse. If Alan can see her again is another thing entirely. For the moment, though, the harmonious resonance is trying to get his attention and reach that spark inside him. Trying to wake up the Champion of Light inside of the Writer.
Jesse would raise her hands to take his head into her hold if Polaris wasn't working. However, he leans in to repeat the gesture. She moves the small amount needed to give him a proper kiss. It feels like electricity runs down her spine. She hopes it never stops feeling this way when they kiss. That isn't her primary focus at the moment though. Now she just wants to help him remember in the only way she can think--remind him what it's like to be them. ]
no subject
Now, all he wants to do is minimize the damage and hurt done to other people. If he can somehow put it into the story that the people he cares about are kept out of harm's way, then that's what he intends to do. It has to be subtle, of course, because the story resists, but... Saga and her daughter. Casey. Jesse, Steve, the rest of the FBC in Bright Falls. They need to be kept safe, somehow. He can't remember what exactly he's done in the name of protecting them, because he can't remember that while he's in the story, but he must have done something.
The Dark Presence clearly doesn't like that, even if Alan doesn't realize that's what is causing the ripple of anger inside him.
Get out of my story! You're in MY story.
The thought resounds loudly in Alan's head, and the shooting pain resurfaces for just a second. But it's all internal, and unless Jesse's looking closely, she might miss how Alan's eyes darken for just a second. It's only for a second, and then it's gone, and Alan's there with her. ]
It's going to try and stop you. It doesn't want me to remember. I shouldn't remember, because it's not in the story.
[ His eyes shift again, looking for something that he can't quite see. He's looking for Polaris, that guiding star, but he still can't see her. Can't see the shimmer that he saw in his dream. He can feel her, but just barely. That part of him that's the Champion of Light is reaching back for her, trying to bridge that gap, but so far, it's a slow effort.
But somehow, even if he's struggling to feel Polaris' resonance, he can feel Jesse. He can feel her, and more importantly, the kiss is stirring up memories buried beneath the demands of the story. All he sees are flashes of images, but it's them. They're in different motel rooms, or in a conference room, or in a darkened room he knows too well. But in each one, he's not alone. He's with her.
She keeps finding him in each one, even in a place he never wanted her to see, and in each one, they're home. They're home because they're together.
The words slide out of him almost by accident; he didn't mean to say them out loud, but they come out anyway. ]
Jesse, I want to come home.
no subject
The dark look in his eyes doesn't escape her notice. Her hands curl more against his elbows at the sign of it. She doesn't know what that means exactly. The look doesn't belong to Alan and that means it has to leave.
She just wants him here with her. Why is that so damn much to ask for?
The answer is obvious and it makes her hate it all more. Alan has been trapped in a nightmare dimension for thirteen years. The Dark Presence, Scratch, whatever it is has claws deep in him from the constant battles. That's why it's so hard.
« It can't have him. He belongs here. » ]
I'm an outlier for a reason. [ The comment is said gently, but with a bit of pride and even humor to it. ] We don't operate in the way things tell us to. You know that.
[ Green eyes watch his expression as the kiss ends. He's stated his intent and want to return home--to their reality before. Leaving the Dark Place. This time, however, she feels there is a secondary meaning. Her heart pounds. Once again she wonders how he can manage to strike the right cords in her in so few words. He'd say he isn't good with words anymore, but he must be good enough to know how to get her to react.
Her hands leave his elbows to cradle his head between them. A small notion is made to bring him closer and to move closer to him. They're already close enough to kiss and touch their foreheads. It's not close enough to bring him home.
« Haven't we done this before? You and me. It's what we did in the Writer's Room, isn't it...? Did he take that idea and find a way to move it into the story if I showed him that manuscript page? Or, do things naturally fall like this because of the story? Maybe it's pointless to ask. We just go with it. » ]
Then, come home. [ Her eyes slide shut as her mouth brushes against his with each word. ] All you need to do is make that last step. Cross that threshold and you'll be here with me.
[ Jesse want's to pull him closer into a kiss. Her instincts tell her this has to be something Alan does. He has to make that last full motion. A choice just like it was in the Writer's Room. An echo, a repeat, maybe a reused set of events. It worked there, why not here in the altered world event? ]
We're more than just parts to play in the horror story. You're not a character in Scratch's story. You're a best selling novelist--Alan Wake. A real person who belongs in this world. With me.
no subject
Alan feels the darkness trying to drag him under; it feels like a cold hand grabbing at him, trying to pull him away. This won't ever end, will it? I'll never be completely awake. Clear-headed. It'll always find a way to get me. Even if I find a way to end the story, will it always be able to find me?
Jesse might be determined to pull him from the clutches of the Dark Presence, but in Alan's mind, the Dark Presence is even more determined to keep him there. Even when the feeling of being dragged under fades, Alan still feels that cold touch on his back, like the imprint of the Dark Presence is still there. Maybe it'll always be there. ]
Maybe more people should be outliers. Maybe more people should be like you. [ If I'd met her before I met Alice... yeah, I know that's a weird thought. But I would've- Never mind.
There is a secondary meaning. He wants a life with her. He wants things that he shouldn't remember wanting, or talking with her about wanting. There were things they talked about, but he can't remember them. So all he can say is that he wants to come home to her.
His head shifts lightly in her hold, leaning a little bit more against her hands. He moves closer to her when she pulls him in, and when she moves closer to him, he smiles. It's a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. ]
The story- the Dark Presence wants me to think I don't have one. I don't have a home. Even if I get out, I'll always just dive right back in. [ It took him some time to realize it, but the Dark Presence is enticing, a master of deception. It wants to lure Alan back in. It has lured him back in. Whenever he goes too far, it finds a way to pull him back. It preys on his fears and insecurities and uses those against him. ]
It wants me to forget that I ever had a home. But I did, at least once, before all this. An apartment, with Alice.
[ He finds it hard to picture it now, and he doesn't remember visiting a version of it several times in the New York of the Dark Place. ]
I want it. No, I need it. I need to come home. [ I'm tired of always drifting. Drowning. I don't want to be lost anymore.
The story fights him even as he tries to push past it, to take that step. To cross the threshold and join her again. He reaches for her with one hand, although she's not that far away from him, but the darkness lingering in his mind is trying to throw up a wall between them. Trying to keep them apart. ]
...stop it. Just stop it. I'm- I want to come home. [ Again, the words aren't directed at her. They're directed at the monsters in his head that want to keep him trapped. ]
I don't want to be a character. I won't be a character anymore.
[ Alan takes a deep breath, and he takes that step. It won't set him free, but it's a step closer to him finally coming home. His lips press deeply against hers, his hunger and need for her all too plain on his face. ]
no subject
His small smile is mirrored by hers. ]
The world would definitely be weirder. [ Her forehead presses to his more. ] Maybe too weird.
[ She gently supports his weight as she had in the Writer's Room. The memories are faint for her, but she knows she went there and that they pulled him from the mental depths of the Dark Place. It seems the hold has to have it's claws in him in order for the story to progress.
« He won't ever be really free of it until this story is over. » ]
It's wrong. [ A slight shake of her head. ] You lived here, in this reality. Not a dream reality. You and Alice lived in New York City. You were a successful writer, a celebrity, and existed here. Even if you don't feel like the same person? You are. You're Alan Wake.
[ She knows when he's talking to only things he knows and can see--visions of the Dark Presence and it's minions--and when he's talking to her. She stays quiet as he battles the darkness in his mind. Whether that darkness is the story or things the Dark Presence has done to him is irrelevant to her. It's a darkness that Alan has to beat on his own. She can aid him and show him the way, be that guiding star, but he has to pick. He has to make it happen.
All he needs is the encouragement and support.
His hand lands on her elbow and her smile widens.
No hesitation is given to kiss him back. She pulls him closer, leaning back slightly. The kiss isn't meant to be pretty or entirely romantic. Instead, she answers that need and hunger with her own. Trying to pull him home; wake up those memories lost in the fog of his mind. Hidden by the story. They've kissed like this before--and more.
Polaris resonates louder, attempting to reach the Champion of Light. ]
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But that doesn't change the fact that he hates it. ]
I don't know about too weird. I wouldn't mind going back to some kind of normal, sometimes quiet life, but- it would be boring if there wasn't any weirdness at all. I could do without a horrifying, terrible story that's alive, though.
[ I could really do without that. Without all of this. But didn't this bring us together? I can't hate everything about this, when this is what helped me find her. ]
I don't feel like that, like I'm still that same person. I don't feel much of anything. Believing that all of that is true, that there really still is a person named Alan Wake is... it's hard.
[ It's hard to believe, but- Somehow, I still know that I'm not a character. That's not a made up name. I actually lived. ]
I lived. I talked to people. Made them angry sometimes. But I lived.
[ The darkness is still trying to pull Alan down, but he's fighting back in his own way, channeling some remnants of determination to try and push back. He might not have much left, but he at least has something.
When is a kiss not just a kiss? When it's something a desperate man is doing in an effort to stop himself from drowning. Except it's less of Alan trying to stop himself than it is him relying on someone else to help pull him out of the waves. He's tried doing it on his own, but that won't work anymore. Or maybe it will and he's just convinced himself that it won't. Maybe trusting others to help pull him out will only end in disaster, but it can't go any worse than it already has, right?
Suddenly, abruptly, Alan gasps, a strange momentum pulling him back from Jesse. There's a roaring sound inside his head, accompanied by a haze of gray clouds and a menacing face baring his teeth at him in a snarl. But just as suddenly, the face is gone, and a burst of blinding light seems to flood Alan's mind. In the center of the light is the woman with Jesse's face that he saw in his dream, and as before, her hands are outstretched to him.
Come home, Alan.
The light fades to a less blinding level, and suddenly, Alan feels himself sag against Jesse; not to the point that all of his weight is on her, but he's leaning against her a little more than he was just moments ago.
He's still looking at her, and maybe it's just a trick of the light, but strangely, inexplicably, his gray eyes seem to have become a few shades brighter. ]
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She's the Director. What good is a Director who can't guide? Lead the way? Show that you can keep fighting and win? While caring and helping those victims along the way.
She will pay the price because Alan has paid enough for his changes. His heroism. There may not be anything left of him if he keeps paying. So... this one is on her.
« We can argue about it more when he's home for good. » ]
You live. It's not just that you had a life, you have one. The more you belive you don't? The more it's going to wash it away. [ She shifts forward to him more. ] It's hard, Alan. I know. Fighting against a world that tries to convince you what you know is real isn't. I know what it's like.
Why else would you bring Polaris and I here to help?
[ Jesse has been trying so long to pull him from the depths of dark waters. There's been times when she thought he didn't want her help. There's been times when Scratch has stopped her. Even times when she has come so close and it slips from her fingers as they loop around right ti the beginning.
Now, she's reaching into the Lake with both arms submerged. The Lake water is to her collarbone as her hands curl around his arms to pull him up. She can't do it on her own. He has to grab back--push up. Fight off the current so her leverage can truly pull him. He never wanted her in the lake; he abhors the idea of it. It's the only thing she can think to do that won't break her promise of entering the Lake. Both arms under murky black waters and grabbing him. Using all her strength to pull him up.
« Come on, Alan. It's me. It's Jesse. You've been awake before. Remember? WE found you in the Dark Place. A flashlight, a light from outside. You're AWAKE. You have to remember. I can't tell you--you need to realize it. Come on, come on. Please. Please, Alan. You know you're awake! Wake up! You need to wake up! »
She wants to pull him closer and open her mouth to his; to truly disappear into a kiss from him. Instead, he is pulling away with a gasp and everything in Jesse freezes. Well, everything that's her. Polaris still hums loudly and tries to amplify the Light and its Champion.
That's when she sees his eyes have lightened to that shade of gray she loves. Her heart skips.
Her fingers curl slightly into his beard. ] ...hi, Alan.
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Naturally, his overactive imagination goes to extremes, imagining the worst sort of horrors, the ones that would affect him the most personally, because of their connection. But beyond that, because Alan isn't a cruel person, he can't stand the idea of the story pulling everyone in further and either killing or injuring them almost for fun. The darkness is too powerful, and shouldn't be underestimated. Not that he believes Jesse would for even a second, but it's still that master of deception: finding ways to sneak in when someone's back is turned.
So Alan will never be pleased with the idea of someone else paying the price he's meant to instead of him. But the part of him that is tired of years of fighting, of trying, of being looped back around again and again just wants to lie down and let Jesse as herself or as the Director take over. Not entirely, because he still has to write, but he can relinquish some of the control he's been desperately trying to hold onto. Maybe he never was in control.
But then there's another part of him, a more cynical part, that says there's no point in letting her help. The Dark Presence has its claws in him, as she's already realized. He's spent so long being outside of time and space that maybe there's no place for Alan Wake anymore. Maybe his place is in places he barely remembers, such as the room in her apartment that she set aside for him to use. Maybe he'll flit in and out of those places, always coming back to the Dark Place.
No, that can't be true. I can't give up. I'm tired, but I just can't give up. I won't. ]
It's washed away so much already. You know it has. You've seen it, haven't you? [ She's seen it, he's lived through it. ] It's hard to not think of it all in past tense. It's in the past, not the present. That life, whoever it belonged to.
[ Maybe he and Jesse are really more alike than perhaps either of them have realized. They're both locked in their respective fights. Maybe Jesse ultimately won her fight to find a place in the world where she is believed and where she knows what she's seen is real. Alan's fight is still continuing. The latest tactic from the Dark Place is making him doubt his place in reality. ]
Polaris... Polaris. [ That's not the only thing he's been forced to forget. He can't remember Jesse's guide. ] The name of the North Star, that guides people who are lost. But that's not all Polaris is, is it? [ He knows facts, scientific ones that don't really relate to Jesse's Polaris.
He'd lose himself in trying to remember things that are hidden from him, but that would pull him away from her, and he's been pulled away from her enough as it is.
He's not physically in the lake, but the lake in his mind very much has him in its grip. The waves want to wash him out even as he tries desperately to reach out for and to hold onto Jesse's hands as they reach out to him. He's reaching, desperately, straining for something to hold onto, something to pull him out of the water even as the current pulls him back down and further in. His own strength is waning and has been for awhile, almost like a real drowning victim's strength wanes while fighting off real waves.
But who says the waves of the Dark Presence are less real than those? In some ways, they're more real than anything. Stronger than anything. Stronger than Alan.
But are they stronger than Polaris? The light bursts into Alan's mind, drowning out everything: thoughts, feelings, actions... The darkness can't exist when so much light is present. A switch has been flipped. The Champion of Light is waking up. He looks at Jesse, gray eyes once again locked on green ones. ]
... Jesse?
[ How many times have we done this? Will I stay awake this time? ]
Hi.
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[ She frowns slightly. ] There's always a place for you. People are still talking about your disappearance, your books, they even made them into movies. You belong here. Not the Dark Place.
[ A nod. That's not the Polaris she means, but the namesake. The story has tried to remove everything he's ever known about her or her guide. Another smaller realization dawns on her as to why it was so hard to make the story include them. Her guilt stabs her heart.
She can't demand anything from him again.
Her hands grasp onto his arms and try to pull him to the surface once again. Not only to the surface, but onto a dock or a piece of land, whatever it is she is standing on. Her feet sink slightly at the sheer force she needs to exhort to pull him. That's why pulling will only do so much; she needs him to push himself that last bit.
Polaris is only as strong as those things that amplify her are. Jesse is her living source in this reality, but, if there is nothing to build from it all turns into just small waves. She equates to a background energy that exists peacefully with beings that she can harmonize with.
If the Light that bright in Alan's mind? Then it means he far stronger than he ever gives himself credit for. Polaris amplifies that spark to nourish it to be a full light again, but she can only make what's already there louder. Alan just has to realize it.
Jesse stares at him for a moment. Her lip starts to tremble before she bites down on it. Her gaze drops as her head lowers. Hands come to rest on his shoulders to steady him and also give her something to grasp onto for a moment. Her arms shake as she tries to keep herself together. ]
I... I didn't know if it would work. [ A small voice trembling with emotion. ] That Polaris and I could bend the story to... or if you could hear us through the story... [ Her voice breaks and her fingers curl in his bloodied flannel shirt. ] This page--it--us--wasn't in this loop. I didn't know if you'd want...
[ A small broken laugh comes from her as she tries not to break down in tears. ] You're home.
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