[ There would of been a time when Jesse would have shut Alan out for the situation he put them in. That was before she became Director. Before she realized bigger pictures outside of a narrow gaze of what she wants. Now, she simply misses him. More than she can really put into words. Not that words were ever her strong suit anyways.
Part of her can't see any other path than the fact that if he ever does write his way home? He'd want nothing to do with her. She played her role, her purpose in the story, and he'd need nothing else from her. Saga had mentioned him saying something about being a "master of many worlds" now.
Whatever that means.
... Jesse?
Everything in her freezes.
« No. No. It can't be Alan. He wouldn't be HERE. If he could go wherever he wanted in any story he wrote... why would he come here? He couldn't get himself stuck here just because of me. He wouldn't get himself stuck here just because of me. Us. »
Jesse slowly raises her gaze, bright green eyes moving to where she heard his voice. The voice that belongs to her Writer trapped in the dark. He can't be here. She's probably just imagining it because she misses him, and this situation is such shit. Just like sometimes she thinks she hears Dylan over the Hotline. It has to be something similar to that. He couldn't be here.
Except, there he is, standing in that brown suit she thought never fit him.
No anger comes. No rejection, no lashing out. Just, staring at the Writer.
Anyone else would probably think she's had no reaction at all. Alan should know better--if he remembers anything about her. The way her lips part slightly. How her eyes widen by a fraction. Shoulders sag as if the weight of something monumental has pulled down the mantle of the Director. Her lower lip trembles slightly and her fingers curl into the desk underneath her.
« It can't be Alan. It can't. Why.... why would he... he wouldn't just to be trapped somewhere else. He couldn't have known we were here. That I was here.
Could he? »
She feels as if she's standing back at Cauldron Lake's campgrounds. Just expecting him to turn around and leave her behind.
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Part of her can't see any other path than the fact that if he ever does write his way home? He'd want nothing to do with her. She played her role, her purpose in the story, and he'd need nothing else from her. Saga had mentioned him saying something about being a "master of many worlds" now.
Whatever that means.
... Jesse?
Everything in her freezes.
« No. No. It can't be Alan. He wouldn't be HERE. If he could go wherever he wanted in any story he wrote... why would he come here? He couldn't get himself stuck here just because of me. He wouldn't get himself stuck here just because of me. Us. »
Jesse slowly raises her gaze, bright green eyes moving to where she heard his voice. The voice that belongs to her Writer trapped in the dark. He can't be here. She's probably just imagining it because she misses him, and this situation is such shit. Just like sometimes she thinks she hears Dylan over the Hotline. It has to be something similar to that. He couldn't be here.
Except, there he is, standing in that brown suit she thought never fit him.
No anger comes. No rejection, no lashing out. Just, staring at the Writer.
Anyone else would probably think she's had no reaction at all. Alan should know better--if he remembers anything about her. The way her lips part slightly. How her eyes widen by a fraction. Shoulders sag as if the weight of something monumental has pulled down the mantle of the Director. Her lower lip trembles slightly and her fingers curl into the desk underneath her.
« It can't be Alan. It can't. Why.... why would he... he wouldn't just to be trapped somewhere else. He couldn't have known we were here. That I was here.
Could he? »
She feels as if she's standing back at Cauldron Lake's campgrounds. Just expecting him to turn around and leave her behind.
Again. ]
... Alan?