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

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.

[ Jesse follows his direction, putting up no resistance in what he wants to do. Being held and supported like this is... nice. Unusual. Not to say that Alan hasn't wanted to, but more that he has been unable to with the Dark Presence inside his mind. It seems they've found a place and time before Scratch has gotten him. ]

Alan. [ Her tone is pointed and demanding. Eyes raise to look at him. ] What is it? Don't hold back just because I'm ... taking a moment. Okay? Tell me what it is.

[ He knows that tone, and he knows that it means she won't accept any nonsense, not even from him, but he also knows that he's been more of a bother and a headache to her than anyone has the right to be. Most of the blame lies with the darkness that's gotten into his mind, but a good portion of the blame lies with him too. He can't put the responsibility for all this onto anyone else or anything else, even if Jesse might disagree. ]

I don't even need to ask for it because you're already doing it, so let's just have this moment, and a moment after that.

[ He smiles for her and his eyes light up slightly in the process. ]

[ « I don't want just moments. »

The thought feels familiar. She must have said it or thought it at one point or another in the various times around. It resonates inside her and she knows this is a conversation that in some form has happened. Not the words but the sentiments. Hopelessness isn't here this time, but the pain of knowing all they have is moments is what hangs inside her. Unresolved.

Eyes close again and she hopes he doesn't notice the few more tears that manage to slide down her cheeks. She's so tired of crying in front of him. What happened to her? She never cried in front of people before. Now...

Pain twinges in her back. Her hands flex in reaction. Jesse begins to move downwards on her side. The tug at his suit jacket is given for him to follow her. Laying down might be better for the both of them. Just for now. ]

Okay. [ Soft, hushed, almost whispered.

He probably needs the comfort more than she does at the moment. ]

[ When Alan's wits are about him, not much escapes his notice. He's used to observing people, watching and listening and taking note of what they do and say. And Jesse is someone he never minds observing. He wants to memorize her: how she reacts, how she speaks, how she moves. Some might call that disturbing or creepy or too invasive, but in Alan's mind, it's an extension of how much he loves her. If she told him to stop, he would, of course.

He notices the tears that leak from her eyes to slide down her cheeks, and he notices the way she seems to jerk just a bit, pointing to a sudden discomfort. He wants to reach out to try and carefully touch her, to comfort her, forgetting his own rather rattled and startled state of mind, because as always, her needs are a greater priority than his own. But before he can do that, she's tugging on his jacket, asking him to follow her as she moves to lie on her side.

Without hesitation, he follows until he's lying down beside her. ]

... Tell me something you need. Tell me how I can help. I haven't helped you very much, but I want to change that. I want to help you. [ Somehow. I have to help, because I know I haven't been very helpful at all. ]

[ Jesse remains silent at his request. Green eyes filled with water shift downwards. Anything she could ever ask him for or tell him she needs would be impossible for him to give. Not because he wouldn't do those things. He can't. The story, Scratch. They won't let him give those few simple things.

Still, he needs an answer. Deserves one. He won't think he would because of the hell she's been through because of him. In her mind? She does because he gave her something she has never had before. A friendship (at the very least) with someone like her. A connection. Something so human that she never wants to let go of it and feel inhuman again.

« I have to let him go. I don't... I don't want to. Don't make me do this. Please. Don't make it so he is dimensions away like Dylan is. Please. I want them home. »

Even though it's useless to say it to Polaris? She does anyway. That way something hears her. It isn't Polaris's fault. She doesn't blame her best friend. She just needs someone to listen.

Her head lowers. Forehead gently presses to his cheat. Hands curl into fists as she hides the last wall shattering down. He can't see her like this. It needs her to be the Direcfor. He can't... ]

Come home. [ Her voice breaks and is barely above a whisper. Her fists begin to shake. It feels like losing Polaris all over again. Like losing Dylan again. She's more powerful than both those times and still, she can't keep someone with her.

She lowers her head further. Her voice is thick with the emotions and tears she refuses to let out, but they try to escape regardless. She won't let them. ] I--I want you and Dylan home. Just, come home.

[ « Please. »

She knows he had just made the declaration that they will go home. They'll be together. Still, those are the words that come out. Repeated for emphasis. Just so he knows how much she wants to have their ending. How much he means to her. How important their crazy screwed up relationship formed over all these loops is to her. ]

Edited 2024-06-09 18:17 (UTC)

[ He'd have to be blind and completely unperceptive to miss how she's wrestling with things... no, not things. She's wrestling with everything. And a good portion of that everything is his fault.

He feels a compelling force to reach out for her, to take her hands in his and just hold her and apologize for everything he's putting her through. She probably would say she doesn't want his apologies; she just wants him home. But that doesn't change the fact that he feels he needs to offer those apologies.

But before he can do anything, she's leaning into him, pressing her forehead against him and... Oh.

He opens his mouth to respond, but something unexpected happens before he can. It's an image, an echo. He's seen echoes before, heard the words that the echo said, but somehow, this is different. There's no audible words, just a face, a man who looks like he's wearing a suit, but then the suit fades into something else: a strange kind of uniform. Alan has to squint to see what's printed on it. P6.

The man doesn't speak, but he reaches his hand out for Alan, before the image fades.

What was that? Who was that? I think he's important to... What? ]

We're going to come home. Both of us. Dylan and I are going to both come home.

[ And then he really does pull her in closer, shielding her as best as he can with his frame. Maybe someone with more bulk to them could do a better job of protectively shielding her, but Alan's not thinking about that hypothetical someone else. He's just thinking about comforting Jesse. That's all that matters right now. ]

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

OCEANVIEW III

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