synthneon | oceanview || ❝ made a promise i'm coming out alive. ❞

oceanview || ❝ made a promise i'm coming out alive. ❞

OCEANVIEW III

and now i'm wide awake.

Oh, I died like a million times.
Through the waves, I break
The nightmares finally over CODE BY TESSISAMESS

[ Alan waits, feeling as though his heart has permanently lodged itself in his throat. He waits for a sound, a reply, anything from Jesse, trying his best to push away the thought that he won't hear anything from her, that he can't hear anything from her. The connection doesn't work that way. The notes are all they can do, and to hope for anything else is foolishness.

The door opening a crack gave him hope and made him believe that maybe he could actually talk to Jesse instead of simply passing notes, but as the seconds go by and he hears nothing and sees nothing, some of that hope starts to fade. ]

Jesse. Jesse, are you there?

[ His voice is quieter now, and he's straining for anything that hints at Jesse being able to hear him. He can sense a little of Polaris' resonance, but it's barely there. ]

Damn it, I want to talk to her. I want to actually hear her, and I want her to be able to hear me!

[ Anger rises up inside him, giving way to his frustration, and his fingers curl tightly around the door as he pulls on it with everything he has. ]

Move, damn it! [ But try as hard as he might, the door isn't budging. Something doesn't want it to open, or maybe it was never going to open, but that's not going to stop Alan. ]

You can't keep me here forever. [ He glares at the door, at the darkness, even going as far as to glance behind him at the owl that's always watching. ] I just want one thing... one thing that's good in this whole hellhole.

[ Briefly, his mind travels to the good former sheriff of Bright Falls. He's a good friend and Alan is so grateful for the times he gets to see him. But Jesse... Jesse's different.

Jesse's that good thing, the best thing, a good person who I don't deserve. I need to get through to her.

His fingers curl more against the door, nails digging into the wood, ignoring how small splinters break off and press against his skin. ]

[ Jesse pushes against the door further. She can hear him. Not make out his words as they get quieter. The darkness can be almost deafening. Compared to the gentle quietness that rests within the Motel? It's almost like twilight and midnight. She pushes more, exerting her own paranatural powers to give herself leverage.

« It feels like something is pushing back against the door. Something is trying to close it. Scratch? The Dark Presence? Whatever it is, it can get the hell out of my way! »

She lets out a frustrated grunt, pushing so hard that her shoes dig into the carpet. Her body strains under the force of the door trying to remain shut. Eyes open slightly as she feels Polaris gently nudge her mind. Her gaze moves to the side of the door where she sees a hand curling around and pulling. Jesse feels something inside her freeze. She knows who is fighting to keep the door open. As odd as it might be, she knows his hands.

Jesse's hand snaps out. It latches onto his wrist. Fingers wrap around, despite the fact that her fingers are raw in certain places due to the door. She gives a gentle tug, nothing harsh or demanding. Just a reassurance that he is feeling her.

She leans more against the door to try and see past the darkness pooling around. ]

Alan?

｟ Alan Wake. ｠

[ Polaris shimmers around Jesse's hand. Through the darkness it's easy to tell she's in her garb as Director. Business blouse, suite. It can be seen even if she can't get herself fully into the room. Maybe she can get Alan closer to the edge of the door and pull him through it. ]

Alan, it's me.

｟ Come home. ｠

[ Alan strains more, still trying to pull the door open as more splinters drive themselves into his hand, but he doesn't stop. He can't stop.

She's so close. Even if I can't use this to finally get home, maybe I can at least talk to her. Maybe I can see her. We're so close, I just have to get this door to move!

Suddenly, unexpectedly, he feels fingers latching themselves onto him, wrapping around his wrist, and his heart seems to skip a beat. Yes, I can feel her! But... but can she feel me? Can she hear me? Why does this feel like that time that I tried reaching Saga through the overlap? Is this the same thing? I don't know if this counts as an overlap, or a threshold, or- or whatever. ]

...Jesse, can you hear me? Please tell me you can hear me.

[ He sees Polaris's shimmer, and although it could simply be his eyes playing tricks on him, he believes he sees Jesse there wearing her Director outfit. What he can see of her is little more than an outline, but it's her. He can't know what she can see of him, if anything, but he's wearing the flannel again, and if she's able to see his eyes, that burning sensation is back in them and there might be water pooling in his eyes, which he doesn't bother to brush away.

At first, he doesn't say anything, but then words come, and he hopes that she can hear what he's saying. ]

I'm sorry. Jesse, I'm sorry.

[ He knows why he's apologizing, but she might not realize it right away, but he knows he has to say it before this connection is severed. There's no way that they'll have this for very long; he's not entirely sure how this all works, but it feels to him that it all depends on how long they can keep the crack in the door from closing and cutting each other off again.

After a moment, he leans closer to the crack in the door, still pulling on it, and he mumbles, but it's loud enough that she can hear it, if she's listening. ]

Did you know- did you realize that the reason the story has gone on this long is because of me?

[ Of course she couldn't know or have realized that, as he only just realized that he's been literally sabotaging the writing process, but he's still struggling to process it all. ]

Edited 2024-04-17 16:26 (UTC)

[ Jesse keeps pushing, eyes only lifting into the darkness once she hears his voice again. Of course she can hear him. He is the one that called her that started all this. How could she not hear him if he reached out to her? Fingers gently brush along the pulse of his wrist as she gives another harsh push to the door with her shoulder. Pain shoots up into her neck, but her head tilts to ignore it. Getting him out is more important than some scrapes and bruises.

She's had worse through out all this shit anyways. ]

Alan, stop it. [ She barks the order out. Not because she doesn't want to listen, but because they have to focus on something else. They have to get him out. Then, he can talk all he wants, and she'll listen all he wants. They can't depend on this door to be open. It shut on it's own all the other times she has ever seen it cracked open. ] Okay? Just, stop it!

[ This time, her hand gives a hard tug on his wrist. Not to hurt him but to get his attention. Jesse's voice is hard, strained, and talking in commands of the Director, not the girl from Ordinary. ] Come over to the side of the door. I'm going to push it with everything I've got, and you need to move through it when I do. No arguments.

[ She waits until she can see more of his outline. Then, she moves.

Rather the door starts to move.

Jesse lowers her head and puts both hands on the door. She channels more of Polaris through her and into the piece of wood that's given her so much grief and heartache through all these loops. Her hands tremble from the sheer force she has to put in, using momentum that she should save for dashing.

A chill moves down her spine. Eyes immediately shoot up to the darkness above them that hovers from the other side of the door. It shifts like a thunder cloud. It pushes back against the door, as if it's hand is at the top and trying to cut their connection.

« No. NO. You don't get to have him anymore! He's coming home! Fuck OFF! »

The door trembles and a screech filters over the Hotline into her mind. Jesse knows that screech. It would stop people in their tracks in fear, but in this moment, she's too angry to be afraid. She's too hurt, to upset, and too stubborn to let the Dark Presence have any footing anymore. Her eyes narrow.

The hand closest to Alan shoots out in front of him. She tries to reach out with that power of hers, trying to pull him through the door she's forced open just enough for his size. She can hear the Dark Presence--Scratch--roaring in her mind at the thought of taking the Writer away. ]

『 IT'S MY STORY. MY RULES, MY WORLD. 』

[ Jesse feels herself being thrown across the small hallway into the opposite door. A painful exclamation leaves her. Even then, her hand is extended out to try and pull Alan from the Spiral Door that has trapped him for thirteen years. Ringing fills her ears with the dull roar of the upset entity. Her head remains lowered but she keeps trying to pull until... either she feels him or the door shuts again. ]

Edited 2024-04-18 03:00 (UTC)

[ Something in Alan's mind urges him to keep pulling, to keep fighting against the door that won't budge, but something makes him pause: not stop, just pause. Jesse's fingers against his wrist causes him to pause. He can feel her; he can feel the brush of her fingers even through the door that separates their realities.

I can feel her. She's real, and she's here.

He opens his mouth to say something else, to give a desperate description of a desperate man who's sabotaged himself when everything was on the line, but he cuts off when she barks out the order for him to stop. He doesn't just stop; he freezes in place, a startled look falling into place in his eyes. He's not afraid of her, but she surprised him with the force behind her words.

Slowly, he stills and grows quiet, the words he was going to say fading in response to her order to just stop. His eyes shift to her hand that's tugging hard on his wrist; if getting his attention was her goal, she succeeded, as every sense, every inch of him is focused on her. Almost automatically, he moves as ordered, moving to the side of the door, doing his best to get into position. Once there, he waits too, waiting to see what she'll do next... waiting to see what will happen next. He'd be a fool to think that the Dark Presence will simply let her pull him out of this prison, out of this dark realm, but he can't lie and say he doesn't hope that she'll manage it.

His breath catches in his throat the second that he sees her move and notices the door beginning to move as well. It's slow, barely an inch at a time, but it's moving. It's really moving.

But no sooner does that thought form in Alan's mind than he feels something else, something terrible and terrifying and- No... We're so close, why now?

A chill moves down Alan's spine as well, and his gray eyes suddenly widen in fear. He can feel the darkness coming, and he can feel how angry it is. It suddenly forms into a dark menacing cloud and pushes against the door, aiming to close it and keep it closed. ]

I won't let you do this, not when we're this close!

[ The darkness senses Alan's anger and his stubborn will to fight back, and it doesn't like that. It doesn't want the writer to fight. It wants him to just stay still and let it pull him back under its enticing dark waves. Dark tendrils seem to try to circle themselves around Alan in order to pull him away from the door and away from the source of the resonance on the other side. The darkness doesn't like the resonance; it doesn't like the brightness. It can't lose the writer to that cursed brightness. He belongs in the dark; he's always belonged in the dark.

Once again, Alan seems to be caught in the middle, a pawn that the darkness wants, but he desperately tries to reject the darkness in an effort to break its hold. I don't want the darkness anymore; I don't want to be its pawn... I don't want to be a character in this insane story!

The darkness screeches through the Hotline, and while Alan may not be able to hear that specific screech, he registers another one, an angrier, more violent one. The darkness is angry, and it's not about to let Alan slip from its clutches.

The door has moved, and it's open wide enough now for a man to slip through. Alan can slip through, and as soon as he feels her reaching out, trying to pull him through the opening in the door, he moves. He tries to force himself through the gap in the door, knowing this is their last chance. This opening won't stay an opening forever, and so he has to move now.

But the darkness doesn't like that; it senses that it's about to lose the writer, and it dials up its efforts to 11. Well, if a dark entity can do that, anyway. Thick clouds of darkness form, swirling around and through Alan, trying to lure him back in. Luring him back to the sleep-that-isn't-sleep that waits for him under the waves.

Come back home, Alan. I'm waiting for you.

A voice that's not screeching or yelling echoes in his mind. It's eerily calm, almost too calm, but it needs the writer to come back. To stay.

Alan coughs as the darkness seems to grow thick around him, and he knows if he doesn't make it through the door soon, it'll be too late. It'll be over. He'll be gone and the darkness will be in control again: Scratch will be at the wheel, and that just can't happen.

More coughing echoes around the Writer's Room and carries through the gap in the doorway as Alan desperately tries to fight his way through to join Jesse on the other side. It's less joining her and more her trying to drag him from one reality into another, but he's doing his best to fight.

He feels something strange, as if Jesse's been pushed away from the door and further into wherever she is (the motel, probably, if his memory is still correct.. Not likely, these days...), but somehow, her grip on his wrist hasn't been broken. It's the last bit of hope that he has, the last thing connecting him to her, and armed with that last hope, he pushes himself forward, through the door, and-

Thud.

He feels himself colliding with her, propelled forward by the force of the momentum of his movements, and the door slams shut behind him with an almost colossal boom. He bends over, hands coming to rest against his knees as he tries to catch his breath, barely resisting the urge to shut his eyes against what he's certain he'll see: dark clouds expelling themselves from his lungs with each shaky breath.

Before he's really ready to speak again, he manages to say just one thing, and it sounds like more of a gasp than a spoken name: ]

... Jesse?

[ Jesse keeps her eyes shut, focusing all her strength on the door and pulling. It's hard--really hard. Painful too, but she'd never share that fact. It reminds her of the times she would try to drive the Hiss out of people. She realizes then that this whole process has been similar to the Hiss invading people. Except Alan... it's worse than anything with the Hiss. Dylan may have invited them in, but Alan has had thirteen years of the Dark Presence breaking him down and taking over him.

« How many times has it happened? How many before you and I showed up? »

The impact with the door across the hall causes the wind to leave her lungs. Not just the door, but from Alan as well. She gasps while he coughs, trying to force her lungs to open and regain the loss of breath. It takes longer than she'd like, but by the time he says her name, she is pushing herself up and breathing heavily to try and regain the energy she just expended. The Motel isn't dark to the point is void of light, but certainly not peppy and bright like it could be.

Her green eyes raise to his gray ones. She moves in an instant, the paranormal energy rippling off of her as if she's dashed up in the small amount of space between them. Perhaps it's uncharacteristic of her, but in the same dashing motion she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders. A hand bunches into the flannel shirt. The other threads into his stringy wet hair.

« Wait... wet? Why is he... nevermind. That's not important. »

She pulls him closer--or maybe it's pulling herself to him. Her face buries between his neck and her arm. He had wanted to say something, and knowing Alan, he will try to get it all out in a rush now that the door has shut behind them. That's fine. She stopped him, after all. It's only fair thar she remains quiet and let's him talk now.

The Motel is a gentle quiet. Some noises echo through the halls, but nothing that would suggest something malicious. Fans working, a dull muffled sound over some invisible speakers. Better than the still all encompassing deafening silence that hangs in his Writer's Room. ]

[ He straightens up quickly when he feels her dashing up to him and all but throwing her arms around him, one hand bunching itself into his shirt and the other one threading into his hair. ]

Jesse- Jesse, I'm sorry. I'm- I'm sorry. [ He's sorry for what he made her do, for all the energy she had to expend to get him here. He's sorry for always hurting her, for putting her in positions where she has to hurt herself to help him.

She burrows her face into him as she's done before, and he's quick to put his arm around her to draw her in even more than she already is. He had something he wanted to say to her when he was still in the Writer's Room, but now it seems as though all powers of speech have left him.

His head lowers and he just stands still with his arms around her, holding her silently and letting the quiet of the Motel wash over him. It's calmer here, almost peaceful, and there's none of the deafening silent terror that characterizes the Writer's Room. He could stay like this for a long time, but he knows he doesn't have a long time. That just means he needs to make this last for as long as he can.

One hand leaves where it was resting against her back and moves to touch her red locks, rubbing the strands carefully between his fingers as he tries to think about what he should say... what he should do. ]

[ At his apologies, Jesse merely tightens her hold on him. She knows there's little point in telling him there is no need to apologize. This story is a monster and that isn't his fault. The Dark Presence has taken him so many times that it's impossible to say when "Return" happened. However, she knows it isn't written by Alan. The things in that manuscript are too cruel.

What should she say? She isn't sure. He had wanted to tell her something before she silenced him. Something about how he had kept the story going in loops. How much of that was him, and how much was because of them? They tried to force the story to give them what they wanted. Maybe that was never possible. Maybe they dragged all of this out so far because of they demanded something unrealistic of the story.

« How long do we have? » ]

I've been trying to reach you... notes, projecting Polaris. Messages in any way I could. I never reached you until now.

[ He still feels as though he could spend a lifetime apologizing for his mistakes and for every bad thing he feels responsible for. Of course, he knows that Jesse doesn't want to waste what time they have on apologies, but he still feels the need to give them. Maybe he always will.

He just leans into her hold, and after a moment, the arm that's still around her tightens just a fraction. He likes this; he likes being held and being able to hold her. Words don't seem forthcoming at the moment, and that feels strange to him, but he can't seem to force anything out right now. He doesn't want to waste their time, especially since they probably don't have very much of it, but he can't find the words to say to break the silence.

That is, until she breaks it for him. ]

I don't know why it worked now, but- but I'm glad that it did.

[ She almost tells him that she had met another version of him. An Alan Wake further back on the path but going in the same direction with an addition: her. One that might be able to avoid everything they've gone through. The words nearly leave about the messages she's sent and the times Scratch has stopped her, and somehow it routed to that younger Alan. Something holds her back at the last second from it though. Polaris, maybe. Her intuition. Or, just the innate sense that Alan can't handle the idea.

Fingers gently brush down his wet hair. The familiar flannel feels like home, and she nearly collapses against him. Except, that can't happen, because she can see Alan is a wreck. He needs her as the Director... and as Jesse. Not the mess of a woman from Ordinary who struggles with expressing how she feels. ]

We can work on trying to break this loop. Make this the final time. [ Her eyes shut tightly as the words from Alice Wake claw at the back of her mind. ] Then, we can get you home.

[ If she told him about that, he wouldn't be able to stop his thoughts from going places they shouldn't. He'd wonder if maybe they would be happier than they are now if they'd met back then, before he went so deep into the story and into the lake that coming out of it was difficult, if not impossible. If she met him then, maybe he could have been happier and made her happier too, because then he might not have hurt her in all the ways that he has. So maybe she's right in thinking Alan wouldn't be able to handle that.

As it is, he can barely handle the storm that's brewing inside him, the storm that Jesse's picked up on. He wants to collapse against her, but he can't do that. He has to be the writer who fixes the story, who fixes everything he broke, and he can't be a wreck. ]

Break the loop? Make it the final time? Jesse- [ Alan's breath hitches as his emotions threaten to spill out of him. ] The reason why these loops won't end is because of me. I- I was fixing the story, fixing the ending, and I stopped myself from doing it. I've been stopping myself from doing it this whole time.

[ He only saw it the one time that he can remember, but it makes sense to him in the worst possible way. How many loops ended with him coming upon himself making edits to the story and putting a stop to it with a bullet in his own head? Was it all of them or only some? Does it matter? If he can only remember it happening once, then there's just as much of a chance that it keeps on happening but he forgets it every time. He's his own worse enemy. ]

Maybe there is no breaking the loop.

[ I'm trapped here in this nightmare. ]

Edited 2024-04-24 07:57 (UTC)

Alan. [ Her tone is sharp and commanding once more. Demanding that he puts all his attention on her.

Once he has shifted to look at her? Jesse pulls back. She stares at him evenly. There's no anger in her face, only an upset determination. She can only imagine why he has been stopping the process. Only guess at what it was that had caused him to sabotage their edits to the story. Her guess is that it had something to do with Alice. What else could be strong enough to cause him to just... stop? ]

Then we fix what is wrong. We keep pushing. We fix it. Whatever is making you stop fixing it? We stop it now and we put a stop to it. This will be the last loop. I promise.

[ He hears her say her name and he registers the tone she used, but he's struggling to resist the urge to just grip his head with his hands and let the waves of guilt and despair and fear wash over him. He can't rid his mind of the image of shooting himself in the head, just as he can't forget the knowledge that Alice is dead. Gone.

It takes what feels like an eternity but he raises his head to look at her. He almost recoils instinctively as her green eyes meet his, but he catches himself at the last minute. ]

We can't. I can't. It'll never be fixed. How can I fix it when I'm the one who stopped myself? I shot myself. In the head. The me that was working on the story, I killed him.

[ Alan's shoulders fall but he somehow manages to keep looking at Jesse. ]

The loops will never end.

[ She notes the recoil, but that doesn't stop the intensity in her gaze. If she backs down then he really will ball up in everything that's trying to drag him down. She's spent so long trying to pull him out of the waves that she has memorized certain tells.

« Has he always hit this road block and spun out? That's why he's been trapped in this spiral? Well. We are going to stop that. Aren't we? »

Polaris shimmers in agreement.

Jesse's hands leave his shoulders and rest on either side of his face. She's never been someone who is overly gentle. Forward moving, forcing her way if she has to. This isn't something she can force. Alan doesn't work that way and he never has. He has to accept things for himself then he can move forward. ]

Alan Wake. [ That sharp tone remains in her voice, but there is a softness in her eyes. ] Stop just for one minute and think.

[ « Not that I reallt understand how he shot himself and is still here... but I don't think much makes sense in the Dark Place. » ]

So, you stopped yourself. Okay. [ Jesse hopes he sees she believes him--or at least the end point his statement means. ] You couldn't write the ending then because you stopped yourself then. Which means we pick up from where the edits left off. We finish it.

You'll only keep letting yourself loop if you let yourself. You realize what you did. Now you stop and course correct... and you let us help.

[ Polaris gently brushes against his mind as if to reinforce the words. ]

[ He's drowning again, or almost drowning. He can feel the waves at his feet, washing over him, enticing him into going deeper. He's dead already, isn't he?

No! No, I'm not dead, I'm still here, I'm still trying...

He wants to throw himself forward, to latch onto Jesse and hold onto her in a desperate attempt to keep the waves from dragging him away. The image of a screaming face flares into his mind; his face, screaming, but out of terror, not madness. Although what's the difference between madness and terror? There's not much of a difference, in Alan's mind.

He actually does lurch forward, but her hands on his face pull him up short. She can always draw his attention simply by touching him. Sometimes it seems to work better than other times. Now is one of the times when it breaks him from his terrified thoughts.

Alan Wake.

Her voice seems to merge with another voice: her voice, but different. Polaris and Jesse on the same wavelength. The same resonance. It's only in his head, of course, but his mind is filling in the blanks for him. ]

It- It wasn't just that one time, was it? It- It was always me, terrorizing Alice, killing myself, stopping myself from fixing the story.

[ He feels the edges of his thoughts fraying as if madness is trying to take hold, and he shakes his head, but not enough to dislodge Jesse's hands. Words form and spill from him, slowly and remaining slow, not increasing in pace or feverish pitch, but a look of agitation is forming in his eyes. ]

I walked into the room, and I saw him there. He was scratching out my edits to Return. I had to stop him. I fired the gun. Why did I fire the gun? It wasn't Scratch. It was me. Don't let me fire the gun again.

[ Is he talking to Jesse? To himself? Even Alan doesn't really know. Maybe he's talking to both of them, making a desperate plea to not let this happen again. ]

I don't know how to stop. How do I let you help? How do I stop letting myself loop if I forget that I keep walking into that room and firing the gun?

[ He leans forward as if searching for her, searching for the closeness that she offers. Polaris' brush on his mind registers and he latches onto it out of desperation and need. Even now, he feels like he's in a loop that he can't break, because he can't see how to break it. ]

Do you see a way to stop the loops? Do you see how to stop them? Because I don't. I can't.

[ I can't see anything. ]

[ « He terrorized Alice? N-no. No. That wasn't really ALAN in that picture she brought to the Bureau. The one that I found in the case documents. That was Scratch... maybe he was in Alan's body already, but, I KNOW it wasn't Alan. Alan would never do that to Alice. » ]

You didn't terrorize Alice. You know that, Alan. It was Scratch. [ Jesse locks her eyes on his again and simply stares him down. Almost as if she's trying to get a hold of the part of him that knows logic and reason. Just as a certain Diver did years ago. ] I saw some of the photos that she took to the Bureau. It wasn't you.

[ Her gaze softens slightly at the narration he gives himself. She knows a thing or two about how it works now unfortunately. Not that it's much different than the inner dialogue between her and Polaris. Then, she places her forehead to his. ]

We go back to Bright Falls. We get you to the ending point and get you and Saga to write the ending--change the ending. Then, the loops stop. They're done.

Scratch. Not Scratch. Me, but not me. What difference does it make? How do you prove it wasn't me?

[ Agitation that has been trying to work its way through the cracks in Alan's composure finally shows on his face and in his frame. ]

Can you really base that on a handful of pictures? This- everything... it's my fault. It's always been my fault.

[ His breath hitches as she presses her forehead against his, and he leans into the touch, further pressing their foreheads together. He needs the comfort, even though he feels it's not deserved; he can't see how it wasn't him, when, in his mind, all the evidence points to how he terrorized his wife until she couldn't take it anymore. Maybe he didn't know what he was doing, but ignorance isn't an excuse. It doesn't free him from being condemned, even if he's the only one doing the condemning. ]

It sounds so easy when you put it like that. It's not going to be easy. [ It's going to be hell. People are going to get hurt. I might hurt her again. I hate this. Why does it have to be like this? ]

I don't know if I can do it.

Because I know the difference between the two of you. Do you really think I couldn't tell if it was Scratch or you? [ Jesse's eyes narrow as she presses against his forehead. ] It hasn't been your fault. Who made the decision to go to the Lake? Who was it that tried to use you to manipulate the Lake? It isn't all your fault, Alan. It could be so much worse than it is.

[ There could be no loops; no extra tries, no redo. The first time could of been what it was. Her and Steve dead. No way to stop Scratch and the Dark Presence leaking out into Bright Falls to make it's fucked up Deerfest. It could have been so, so much worse.

« Everyone in his life could have disappeared. Including us. »

Her gaze softens at his next words. None of them are surprising. Even though she has tried and tried to keep him afloat? She can tell the toll it had taken on him. She can see how he has no more fight in him. It'd be easier if she could be angry about it. If she could yell and shake him to pull himself together one last time.

« That's not how Alan is. He has to make the choice himself. He has to find it in himself to keep going. You can't make him do anything or try to get him to choose. It has to be him. »

She leans back slightly only to stand at her full height. Not that it does much other than show her resolve. He's still taller than him. ]

Then, I'll do it. I'll put an end to it.

[ Her hands leave his shoulders to take his hands. A firm squeeze. She means it. ]

I'll stop Scratch. The Dark Presence. The story. I'll work with Saga to get the ending.

[ « Even if it means putting Alan down. I--I don't want to. I don't want to ... we're supposed to have a life together after this. But, if he can't fight to make it happen... I'm the Director. It's my job to stop AWEs. Protect our reality. » ]

But... where does Scratch end and Alan Wake begin? Who- [ Who is Alan Wake, anyway? ] If so many people can't tell us apart... Are you the only one who can? [ The question slips out, and when it does, Alan realizes that if Jesse really is the only one who can tell the two of them apart, that's actually something of a relief. ] Wait. Why didn't I think of it that way before? If you can tell us apart, that's good. And... And of course you can tell us apart.

[ His brow furrows as he tries to grab hold of quickly disappearing threads of conversation. ]

We talked about this, didn't we? Scratch only wants to destroy, to take... to destroy me. To destroy what I have and take it for himself. He doesn't love you; he just thinks that taking you will hurt me.

But going into the Lake was my fault. Alice being in there was my fault. I had to go in, to save her, to fix everything. That's always going to be it, isn't it? I have to go in, go deeper, to fix what I broke.

[ A note of exhaustion sounds in his voice, but he has to push that exhaustion aside. He has to straighten up, he has to toughen up and march into the fight without a second's thought.

I don't know if I can do it. The thought plays itself out in his mind again, but he knows he has no choice. ]

No, you won't. [ Maybe exhaustion is rolling off him in waves now; maybe the urge to simply lie down and let things happen is stronger than ever. But Alan can't do that. He can't afford that. He can't let Jesse shoulder the burden that's his to carry, knowing she'd have to pay the cost of carrying it. He won't let her pay that price.

He leans in, intend on closing whatever distance still lies between them; he wants to kiss her, to press his lips against hers deeply and not let up until they both need to come up for air. But first, he has more to say. First, he needs to get these words out, and then he can give her that kiss. ]

I have to do it. It's me who needs to put an end to it. It's always been me.

[ It's always been my fault, and I've always had to be the one to fix it. No one else can take this on. No one else should take this on. ]

I'll- I'll do it, and finally this will all end. [ And I can finally sleep. ]

[ A frown forms at the corners of her mouth. It never completes, but, the expression will certainly be noticed by him. He stops himself. That doesn't mean she hasn't caught what he implies. He's still struggling with who he is--who Alan Wake is as a person. Her heart sinks.

« I can't keep him from the waters of the Lake. I can't help him realize who he is underneath everything the Dark Presence has buried him with. I can't solve this for him.

What am I supposed to do for him?

What am I doing for him? Giving him a reason to fight? He's willing to give up now. What do I do for him? »

She nods shortly. They have talked about it before. Jesse is aware Scratch doesn't love her. Well, his doppleganger would consider it love. It isn't really love and nothing like being with Alan. He can't hold her like Alan does, or kiss her the same, or even truly love and understand her. Scratch and Polaris are on opposite frequencies.

Scratch isn't Alan Wake. He never will be.

Her eyes narrow. ] Will going deeper really fix this, Alan? What if fixing it requires you to go up to the surface?

[ Jesse reaches up to move the wet hair from his face. She knows how close he is. Close enough where the scent of the deep ocean rolls off his hair and suit. Her heart skips a beat. Alan always finds a way to catch that part of her that she tries to keep locked away. ]

Are we--will you--at the end of everything. Will we still have the ending we want?

[ « Does he still want that ending? »

Her instincts tell her the ending the want won't be the one that happens. Still, she wants to hear him say it. Maybe she even needs to hear him say he still wants that ending--that life together. Her heart still feels sunken and... no, she isn't going to say the word. Think the word. If she does she'll stop and Alan needs her to push forward like she always has. He needs her to be the Director.

Her heart beats painfully as her green eyes remain locked onto the ever shifting hues of gray in his. The girl who is far from ordinary needs to know he still feels the same way she does. That will help her make room for the ending he and Saga need. It'll help her push past everything that's causing the unnamed feeling inside her chest. ]

[ He sees that frown, and he knows that Jesse's guessing what's on his mind. She can read him like a book too, and he knows there's not much he can hide from her. Not that he'd try hiding anything from her at this point. She's already guessed that he's still having issues with his identity, with who he is, and with who's left after all the things the Dark Presence has piled on top of him.

But maybe the fact that she still sees Alan Wake when she looks at him means that that person is still there. He still exists, because Jesse can still see him. Maybe everything that makes him who he is hasn't been washed away, not as long as Jesse can still see him and be confident that he's still very much himself.

It's just making himself believe in it too that's the problem. Perhaps he'll get there with time. ]

I don't know. I thought that I did, I thought I knew what I was doing, but do I know anything anymore? I- I think I can reach the surface if...

[ The words trail off because he doesn't think he can ask more of her than he already has. He hasn't even asked; he's demanded, in the form of writing her into the story, of causing her to do things that she might not otherwise have done. Does he have the right to ask more of her now? He doesn't believe he does.

His eyes slide closed for a moment as he feels her touching his hair, moving the sodden strands aside. Something inside him aches as he focuses on the feel of her fingers on his hair, brushing against his face. It's a distant memory, but he remembers falling into her hold because he couldn't hold himself up any longer; he's not at that point, and hopefully he won't be at that point again, but he wants to be held by her just as much as he wants to hold her too.

She's so close now, close enough that she's all he can see. He doesn't need to see anything else when she's around.

She asks a question, and he hears the words and understands them, but he knows he doesn't need words to respond. He has words that he could use, but more and more, he's realizing that he's tired of talking. He's tired of words. Words are all he has, all he knows how to use for the story, and sometimes he feels like he's running out of words.

Instead of words in this moment, he throws them to the winds, and chooses to lean in... slowly at first, but definitely surely, until his face is inches away from hers. His eyes lock onto hers, and an intensity shifts into them, a need to just be with her. To be hers. He doesn't want to be the story's plaything or pawn anymore; for now, he's still trapped by the story and the darkness, but maybe soon, that will come to an end. He just wants to be hers, to be able to love her and be with her with nothing getting in between them.

He feels momentum propelling him forward until his lips find their way to rest against hers, and he leans in, pressing a deep kiss onto her mouth. Words aren't needed in this moment; he just hopes she gets the message, because he's not sure how he can make it any clearer than this. ]

If? [ Jesse raises her eyebrows. She has the feeling she knows what he is implying but doesn't want to assume or presume anything anymore. Alan is so close to being free of this mess. She doesn't want to step wrong or do anything that could cause that progress to be erased. ] If what?

[ She watches his face closely for an answer before he even really speaks. The exhaustion is plain to see. The pain, the heartache. All she can do is offer to pick him up and steady him as he moves forward. She already knows she can't end this for him. This is Alan's journey and all she can do is support him in it. The concept alone is frightening because she is so much of a force of nature. She hits targets and hits them fast, breaking things in her path. That isn't what this story needs. It doesn't need the Director to handle things, it doesn't even need Jesse.

If anything... it only needs Polaris.

Jesse meets him in the kiss. She leans back against the wall behind her between two of the marked doors. Hands leave his to wrap around his neck to pull them closer--or have him come closer to her. A dull ache has formed in her back from how hard she had collided with the wall once she finally managed to pull him out. She would say she is just as tired as Alan is, but that statement would be a lie. He is far more exhausted than she is. She may never truly understand just how grounded down he has become thanks to the Dark Presence.

Fingers brush along the wet strands of his hair. They've done something like this before. Here, in the Motel. Except that time she forced his hand; made him promise to put them back in the story. This time is different. Now, she just asks if he still wants the ending they both wanted before. Not a request or a demand. Just a question.

And she figures she knows the answer now. ]

[ Alan shakes his head almost immediately. He won't ask more of her; he just can't. It would be wrong, and unfair, and so for the time being, he's determined to not ask any more of her. ] Never mind. It's nothing to worry about. We have enough to worry about already.

[ He knows she won't accept that, and she might even react with impatience or anger, but he just can't knowingly place another burden on her when she already has so many she has to carry. He has to be strong enough to push forward, even if strong is the last thing that he feels right now. If anything, he just feels tired. Weak, if he wanted to go that far, but that's too dramatic even for him. Still, the path forward seems long and difficult and he wonders if he can even make it down that path. He has to, because he has no other choice; he'll just take it one step at a time, hoping he doesn't fall along the way.

... So maybe he is being a little dramatic. But after thirteen years of fighting, maybe he deserves the chance to be dramatic.

For now, even though he knows the road ahead is going to be long and dark, he just decides to focus on this moment with Jesse. Who knows how many more moments like this they'll be able to have until the story ends? His eyes slide closed and he tries to commit these feelings to his memory. He might forget this happened, but he hopes he doesn't. He hopes he never loses the memory of how it feels to be with Jesse, to hold her and kiss her, and just be with her. If he can remember this, maybe it'll give him the strength he needs to keep fighting.

Part of him just wants to finally allow himself to lie against her, because he's resisted doing that several times now, but that would mean breaking their kiss, and he isn't ready to do that just yet. Eventually, they'll have to come up for air, but he intends to hold this for as long as they both can. ]

Alan. [ Jesse's tone isn't sharp, but it certainly is edged. She knows him better than that; knows the situation better than that. ] It's never something to not worry about when it comes to this.

[ When it comes to him.

She opens her mouth to deepen the kiss. She wants to pull him against her entirely. Lean against each other--hell, lay down if they have to. He's soaking wet and something nags her in the back of her mind that this moment won't be lasting. Something in the story is going to pull him away. She won't be able to leave with him--however he leaves--and will have to trust him to remember on his own. She's given him the manuscript page to do just that.

Her hands creep up further into his hair, grabbing onto it tightly in order to hold onto him. A pleased sound leaves her at the feel of his mouth. God, she's missed him so much. Words probably could never describe it and her actions could never show it as well. She has no idea how to tell him or even begin to describe it.

« Maybe I don't need to tell him. He might know already. »

She presses her forehead to his and breathes against his lips when they need to part for air. ]

Jesse. Just be straight with me, as always: are you tired of being in this story? Are you tired of being used and jerked around? [ He shakes his head again. ] I won't do that to you anymore. I can't.

[ He'd be all right with either of those things. Leaning against each other, lying down together, it's all things he wants, and he doesn't hesitate to press himself against her just a little. He knows his clothes are soaked and that can't feel good to have resting against her, but he's seeking closeness and comfort from having her next to him.

A low sigh escapes him as her hands move further into his hair, feeling her grab onto the locks that have grown somehow even though time in the Dark Place doesn't move the way people think it does. As for her feelings towards him, even if words fail to describe it all, he knows without a doubt that she loves him. Even though he wonders if she's had enough of him jerking her around, he's never doubted that she loves him.

If only they could have this forever... no forced separations, no hellish stories, nothing that gets in between them. They could just be themselves, forever.

When they part for air and she breathes against his lips, he returns the gesture, whispering her name against her mouth as he raises a hand to twine into her red locks. ]

OCEANVIEW III

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