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

[ 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. ]

[ She doesn't answer right away as the kiss takes center stage. There will be an answer as she already has one. The words came instantly to her mind, which surprises even herself. Then again, Alan has always been able to cause a reaction with his words. Happiness, sadness, anger, annoyance. He just seemingly knows what things to say to pull the right strings to get a reaction.

He whispers her name and an involuntary shiver rolls up her spine. Again, he has that ability to make her react so easily.

Jesse opens her eyes. As normal, they lock immediately onto his. Her expression softens into something gentle, but no less determined. That fire still is in her gaze and seemingly will never leave. ]

I'm tired of all of us being trapped in this story. I want us all free of it. The towns, the FBI agents, my people, you. I want all of it to end. [ Her hands untangle from his hair so she can hold his face between them. A small smile tugs on the corners of her face. ] I want you to come home from the night. So you can be home with me.

[ If only there was a switch that could be flipped that would see this nightmare come to an end. But skipping past the difficult parts, as tempting as that is, might make the payoff feel cheap. But then again, all Alan knows is that he doesn't care if the payoff is cheapened; it wouldn't be, in his eyes. He's been fighting this for so long that all he wants is for it to be over.

There is no magical switch that can transport all of them to the end of the story and the last defeat of the Dark Presence, and it's pointless to wish for one, but still- the thought exists in Alan's mind. ]

One day, we'll be free of it. The nightmare will be over, and you- we'll go home. [ He knows she'll zero in on that slip of the tongue, but a part of him still wonders if the price to pay to end the story will mean he doesn't come home. He can't talk about that with her, of course, because he knows what her response will be. It's just that he keeps it in the back of his mind as a possible end to all this horror. ]

We'll go home, and we'll have the life we wanted. Together.

[ His eyes shift to meet hers when her hands move to hold his face, and his mouth turns up into a small smile in return. It's a small one, but it's not any less loving or meaningful, because he loves her. He'll always love her, even if the story pushes them apart at the end. ]

[ The payoff is not only cheap, but the journey isn't complete at all. Steps have to be taken. Parts of the story need to be discovered. Maybe that was the point of all these loops. Alan finding all the little things he needed and could finally put them together in the right order, the right place, the right time. Or, maybe, it's more accurate to say that he's finally found the way to edit the story that Scratch has written so there is a far more favorable outcome. Not the endings they want, but the ending that has to work to protect the people that deserve that protection. The innocents. The people pulled in.

She does notice the slip of his tongue. Her eyes narrow slightly but no comment is made. What can she say that hasn't already been said? He may not remember the exact words, but she has no doubts he knows what she would say. How she feels. Alan doesn't believe he'll ever come home from the night. He doesn't think he can make it. If he can stop the story, that is enough for him. He'll have made up for the mistakes he's made trying to get this far.

« It's not enough for me. »

Jesse knows he loves her. She can see it in how he smiles, how his eyes soften. He means it as much as he means for this story to end. ]

Alan. [ Her thumbs brush over his cheekbones. A glance down, then up. What she says will be the last request she ever makes from him. Not a demand--a request. ] Say it like you really believe it. Just this once. For me.

Please.

[ That soft look in his eyes doesn't fade, but a touch of sadness creeps into his gray eyes as her words wash over him. He knows it's not a demand; it's a request, a plea that he attempt to find a belief that's buried impossibly far down. It's so far down that the waves are washing over it. Or maybe it's simply buried in dirt. Whatever the metaphor, Alan has to dig deep to uncover that belief.

He believes in it, in his heart, but his mind also warns him that there's a chance the ending they both long for may never come. It's better to be prepared than to be completely blindsided. Still, he knows there's only one answer that he can say. Only one answer that he wants to give, and so he gives it without hesitation. ]

I believe it. We're going to go home when the story ends. The story will end and we won't have to worry about the Dark Presence or the Dark Place again. I'm coming home, Jesse. We're coming home.

[ I see now that I can say that to her, because what she's really asking for is for me to make a decision: do I believe in the ending that we want or don't I? I have to decide, so what I'm deciding is to believe in it.

And armed with that belief, Alan interjects all the certainty and strength that he can manage to dig up into his voice. They won't be separated by realities anymore; they'll be together, in their reality, and their lives together can finally start. ]

We're going to come home. [ We're going to return. Together. ]

[ If not for him to find it, then at least humor her work a lie. Some words to make her feel--even if it's only temporary--that they will have the ending they've tried to force the story to give them. The ending that Scratch won't let them have because he wants it for himself. An ending that feels like wishful thinking but the one she wants anyways.

She brushes the wet hair from his face once more. Something to keep her busy as he digs inside for the words she hopes he believes could happen. His gaze softens and her own focuses back on him.

We're coming home.

The confidence in his voice is what shakes her most of all. What makes her eyes fill with tears and her heart skips a beat. She inhales sharply to control the emotional response, but it is all too clear that once again Alan is able to make her react with just a few words.

We're going to come home.

Jesse lowers her head only so she can reat her forehead to his. Her eyes close. Tears slide down her cheeks. He's said exactly what she wanted to hear. It may never come true, but the reassurance he truly wants it will have to be enough.

Her hands gently slide from his face to his shoulders. ]

I love you. [ « I want him to know in case I can never say it again. » ] Alan Wake. I love you.

[ She gently brushes her lips against his. Her heart quivers in her chest. That feeling she refuses to name shakes her. ]

Thank you.

[ He's not the kind of person who tells people things just to humor them. He couldn't ever do that to Jesse. It's either tell her the truth or say nothing at all, which is why he sounds so confident when he responds. Even though it took him some time to believe it for himself, there's no other answer he could give.

He'll come home, and he'll never leave her again. There can't be any other way for this to go.

He sees her eyes filling with tears and he reaches out intending to brush away any that might stray down her face. And when she rests her forehead against his yet again, he follows suit. ]

And I love you. Always. [ Even if it takes time for me to come home, I'll always love her. I don't want her to ever forget that. ] Don't forget it, and- [ Don't give up. I'd say that, but she doesn't need me to tell her. She hasn't given up even with all these loops. I know she won't give up now. ]

No, thank you. For not giving up on me when you could have.

Edited 2024-05-16 03:05 (UTC)

[ Her head tilts into his hand, never losing contact with his forehead. Instincts tell her that this is fleeting. Something is going to interrupt them--pull them apart. All they'll have is whatever moments can be spared in the story. This is all they'll be able to have of one another as reality.

Fleeting moments.

Her heart beats painfully.

« Maybe the ending we'll have is for another story. What could possibly come after "Return"? Especially if he doesn't return home. » ]

I won't forget. I never do. [ Eighteen years to find Dylan. Eighteen years to prove to the world Ordinary wasn't an industrial accident. She doesn't forget the things that impacted her the most. Now, he's one of those things. ] I won't give up on you.

[ « WE don't give up on people. »

Polaris shimmers in agreement. ]

Edited 2024-05-18 20:30 (UTC)

[ He doesn't want this to be fleeting. He doesn't want this to be brief. Even if he wouldn't know how much time had passed if he hadn't been told, he knows that to him, it all feels like years piled on top of years with no end in sight. How many times has he looped back on himself? How many times has he died and came back in the writer's room as if he never left? All he knows is that he's tired and he's ready for this to end. This nightmare has to end; he doesn't think he has it in him to go on like this anymore.

Thinking about what might be there waiting for him the day that the story finally ends has kept him going, but it's getting harder to keep putting one foot in front of the other. ]

... Even if it seems as though I'm giving up, even if I sound too tired to even take another step, I'm not. I promise. I'll come home. It- I think it's going to be hard. I'll want to give up. I might ask if I can stop. Don't let me stop.

[ His eyes shift to that shimmer that means Polaris is responding in her own way. The corners of his mouth lift in a small smile. ]

I can't ask you for more, but with just a little encouragement- well, maybe a lot of it, I can keep going.

[ Her expression softens. Eyes remain closed. For a brief moment the sheer exhaustion shows on her face. Not that it compares to anything that Alan has been through the last thirteen years. It may even be a different sort of exhaustion, but she doubts that. How much does his mental and emotional exhaustion play into that need to simply sleep and let it all happen?

She can't say she has reached that point. Not that she can stop. She's the Director.

Her shoulders sag slightly from the pain in her back caused by impact. ]

What kind of encouragement do you need?

[ « What can I do if this ends with him still stuck in the Dark Place? We can barely reach him now. » ]

[ And just like that, Alan puts his own exhaustion and worries about himself and what's still to come to the side. He'd be lying if he said he didn't worry about Jesse, maybe even more than he worries about himself. He moves to pull her into an embrace, wanting to just let her rest against him, because it's her turn to just lean against him.

How many times has he leaned against her when he couldn't even stand on his own? He's not sure, but it feels like it's been at least once, although he knows it could be more and he's just forgotten about it. ]

I can't ask more of you, but... if I could, I'd just ask... Never mind. It's enough knowing that you're here, and that you care.

[ He can't bring himself to ask more of her, even if she insists. She's tired too, that much is obvious, and so it feels wrong to put more on her plate than he already has. ]

That's all the encouragement that I need.

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

OCEANVIEW III

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