dead of night || ❝ i see what’s coming, it’s coming into light. ❞

[outlierdirector]

DEAD OF NIGHT

Carve the secrets from your bruised still heart.

Shape my story, tear every page apart
Inside this room, you left your mark
I burn away the shadows, I strike a spark CODE BY TESSISAMESS

Comments

[crazyisinevitable]

[ Maybe the reason that the two of them found each other isn't so that they could fix each other. Maybe the point of it all, the reason for it happening, was for two broken, messed up people to find each other and start the process of rebuilding together. That's an idea Alan could get behind. He might have rejected it before, but he isn't doing so now.

He shifts suddenly when he feels her hand gently rest at the base of his shoulder blade, not from discomfort but from a want to be touched by her. Anywhere. Everywhere. Her touch always comforts him, but he wasn't always able to show it. Now, there's nothing stopping him from showing it. He visibly relaxes under her touch, and he smiles warmly for her. ]

That wasn't me talking. It- it might have come from me, but I think that the darkness made it worse. It wanted me to think that I wasn't worth trusting, that if you trusted me, I'd only let you down.

[ Maybe that's the key here. Maybe he just needs to show that he can be trusted, that he can be someone to rely on. And Jesse... It seems to Alan that she needs someone that she can rely on when she isn't feeling strong. Alan wants to be that someone for her. ]

I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise.

[ He reaches for the hand that she placed at the base of his shoulder blade and carefully lifts it so he might brush a kiss against it. ]

[outlierdirector]

[ Eyebrows come together at the comment. Fingers curl slightly more into him. Something about the commenf strikes her as odd, as if she is realizing maybe she never met the real Alan Wake at all. How much of it was him and how much of if was the Dark Place?

« The darkness, but not him. Why did it feel like it was Alan really saying it? That it was how he felt at the time. Is this how it's going to be now? Constantly wondering what was Alan and what wasn't? »

Fingers continue to brush along his shoulder blade even as her own shoulders curl. A part of her doesn't want to hear the promise in case something happens. Something goes wrong and he's pulled away by some force she can't combat against. The Entity isn't something she's worried about, as that's just the nature of this dimension. What she worries about is the other things she can't protect him from. Monsters in his head manifesting in their real life.

Her fingers curl around his hand at this kiss. A sound breaks through her defenses as she rolls entirely into him. He's so damn good at using words and gestures to break through defenses she's had for years.

« I probably look pathetic to him. The Director of the Federal Bureau of Control goes to pieces at the slightest hint of affection... I'm screwed up. None of this should bother me like it does. Why does it? »

Polaris shimmers around her.

Jesse sighs. She hates that answer. It's who you are doesn't feel like it helps at all. It doesn't help Alan. ]

...is there anything else you said that wasn't the real you?

[crazyisinevitable]

What? Did I say the wrong thing? [ Again? I'm always doing that. Why am I always doing that?

He knows that look; it seems to be a look that she wears when she's with him, and he wonders if it's his fault. To him, the times they've been together have been enough to make his head spin when they're at their best. When they're at their worst, it's always because he's at his worst and he always manages to say something that hurts her.

I hate this. I can't pretend that that isn't the truth, but now... she might never trust me again, and why would she? It's not like I've ever given her a reason to. Now I've just given her more reasons not to trust me with anything.

He doesn't stop trying his best to comfort her, to try and put her at ease, but he feels the all too familiar pinpricks of doubt beginning to sting. I can't start to think like that. If I do, I won't be able to stop. Just focus on Jesse, on being there for her now, to make up for all the times I wasn't able to do that. Don't think about anything else. ]

I could pull the wool over your eyes, but I know you'd find out, and I'd- I'd never lie to you. The truth is, I don't know. I- I can't remember. [ He shakes his head. ]

There's no rhyme or reason to it; sometimes I remember things, or sometimes something makes me remember what I said. It's never when I want it to or when I need it to.

[ He frowns, clearly upset with himself. ]

I'm not making much of a convincing argument for myself, am I?

[outlierdirector]

[ Jesse pulls herself together. Emotions are put in place. She raises her head to look up at him. Green eyes meet his gray ones as she studies him closely. His answer to her question is fair. She can't expect him to remember things properly in a dimension that operates on dream logic. Not after so long.

Her hands trail up to gently hold his face between then. They've done this before. Looking at one another intently to make sure who they are looking at is the one they love. She can remember the Dark wooden attic room. The two windows that go out to an endless dark sea. Him standing there in tweed and jeans. The memory still strikes a cord.

Seeing Alan for the first time as he should be. Floating with the waves and fighting the Dark Presence--but in the outfit he reached out to her in. The first person over the Hotline who wasn't dead. Just very far way in a dark place.

She rolls to her back, gently guiding him with her. Polaris' resonance rolls off her hands. A gentle frequency that would go unnoticed if Alan didn't know any better. Except he does. ]

Okay. [ She believes him. Trusts him. Maybe that will cause more trouble for her in the futur. ] We'll just have to wait and see.

[ Her fingers curl slightly against his beard. Eyes move over his face once more to take him in. Her writer returned from the night. It may not exactly be home... but it's as close as they'll be for now. Besides, there's no darkness clinging to his eyes or shadows playing across his face. He's Alan again. ]

I miss the tweed jacket. [ She tries to offer a joke in something that is the truth. Something tells her Alan wouldn't want to wear it again.] It fits you better than the brown suit.

[crazyisinevitable]

[ He sees the walls closing again, sees the Director coming back to take control. Once, he would have thought of it as Jesse closing herself off from him, but he knows better now. The walls might be closing in, but she's not closing herself off from him. It's a nuanced thing that only Jesse would do, but he understands it now, and it doesn't mean he loves her any less. She's never loved him any less, even with all the hurt that he's caused her and all the baggage he brings along with him. How could he not love her, when she's never pulled back unless she had to? Unless he forced her hand?

Her hands move to hold his face, and his hands move to curl around her back, his grip tightening by just a fraction to signify how he never wants to let her go. He never wants to be unable to touch her or hold her, and now he knows without a doubt that he wouldn't hesitate to take action if something tried to get between them. A bullet between the eyes would get the message across loud and clear.

He keeps his gaze focused on hers, gray eyes searching green ones, searching her face, memorizing every detail. He's done this before, committing every detail that's her to his memory, but the darkness tried to wash the memory away. Now he won't let that happen. He's not drifting or drowning, he's there and present and there's a purpose to everything he does.

Even when she rolls onto her back and guides him to follow, he moves with resolve, with determination. ]

I'm trying to get it back. I'm trying to remember. [ It can't all be lost to the darkness. It has to still be in there somewhere.

It feels beyond important to him that he reclaim what was taken from him, but a part of him knows that it may be actually lost, no matter how resolved he is to get it back. Still, he won't stop trying. ]

You do? [ He shifts slightly, leaning into her hold; he's always liked it when she touches his beard. It's something he can't explain, but the sensation stirs up something inside him. ] I could probably find another one like it, and I'd wear it just for you. [ He huffs out a laugh. ]

Between you and me, I never liked that suit anyway. [ He feels as though he's told her that before, but it's just a vague sense of familiarity, so he says it again. ]

[outlierdirector]

[ Jesse's shoulders curl subconsciously with a touch of pink to her cheeks. She's not used to being studied so closely. At least, not in the way Alan does. Plenty of psychiatrists and counselors looked at her with scrutiny and waiting for the one hint that gave her away. Alan more tries to see past her walls and layers, reaching to a certain part of her that she tries to protect. It never feels invasive or piercing. Inquisitive.

« I wonder if this is how all writers are. »

Her fingers curl under his chin before moving back down his jawline. Sleep threatens to tug at her. Not that she'll listen to the call just yet. A fear is still there that if she wakes up everything will have been a dream. Alan never found his way home and she's still in her apartment. Climbing out of bed and looking at the door to the room set aside for him. Realizing there's no typing sounds or shuffling of someone moving. Knowing that he is still dimensions away in a dark place that she can't reach. ]

It was what you were wearing when you reached out to me. The first time, on the Hotline. [ Jesse glances down, realizing the blush is still on her cheeks.

Whatever conversations they may have had about their initial encounter are lost to the spirals of the Dark Place. The version of "Return" that became reality didn't leave room for them to talk about things like that. It all worked off assumptions and previous forms of reality. Theoretically, it never should have worked. Yet, they both somehow remembered things they shouldn't. ]

You mentioned once that you weren't the same person who wore it. Maybe it's not a good idea to go back to it. [ Her eyes dart to the side with a small frown. Alan's changed since 2010, it'd be cruel to try and make him that same person. ] We'll find something here in the Oldest House for you... maybe add elbow patches just to make it feel like yours.

[ A quick glance of her eyes upwards to show she means it in jest. ] You said you wouldn't mind burning it... why did you wear it to begin with?

[crazyisinevitable]

[ There's no judgment or criticism or attempt at invading her privacy in Alan's gaze; it's just his gaze, gray eyes looking for the woman he's fallen in love with and can't imagine a life without her. He doesn't have to look too far, because he can see her beneath the exterior of the Director, and his eyes soften because that's who he loves most. He loves all parts of her, every side of her, but it's the girl from Ordinary who won him over.

A stray thought occurs that maybe he's falling in too deeply and too quickly, but it's definitely too late for him to stop now. He doesn't even want to stop.

Her fingers curl beneath his chin and then move to tracing his jawline while his hands move to lightly touch the strands of hair that have fallen to frame her face; in certain lights, the color seems to glow, and Alan can't help but be staggered at the effect it has on her. It's a good thing he's lying down or he might just go weak at the knees. But he can also see the hint of tiredness in her eyes and knows that soon, she'll drift off to sleep. Well, when she does, he'll be right there with her, holding her just like this, and... and if anything tries to pull them apart, he'll fight to stay with her. He's awake now, no longer drowning, and he won't just stand still and let what they've finally found be severed again.

He might be afraid of that very thing, but his determination to fight back harder than ever is stronger than his fear. Jesse's told him before that he's stronger than he even knows, and he's never really acknowledged that about himself, but there's no denying how there are times when he feels a strong sense of determination to push back against the darkness that's ruined so much for both of them. ]

The first time, on the Hotline. That was- it feels like that was so long ago now. I remember that I was desperate. I would've done anything to get out, but I knew it was a long shot. Maybe you wouldn't hear the message. Maybe you wouldn't care.

[ Something in his eyes seems to soften, betraying an emotion he can't hide. It clearly means a lot to him that she cared enough to stay with him as long as she has. ]

If I haven't said it enough... thank you.

Maybe I should go back to it. I- well, I don't know who I'm supposed to be now. Maybe going back will make me feel more like myself... myself, just different.

[ He stops to think, to try and remember why he wore the brown suit at all. And then he remembers and his expression shifts again as if he's remembering something unpleasant. ]

It felt like the kind of thing writers wear.... the great literary writers, not someone who writes horror fiction. It's going to sound ridiculous, even pathetic, but I thought that if I looked the part, maybe I'd feel like I was the kind of writer I always wanted to be. It would still be a lie though, and I knew how ridiculous it was, but I did it anyway.

[ His fingers curl and he has to resist the urge to look away as his embarrassment rises. ]

[outlierdirector]

[ She feels that blush deepen and she bites down on the inside of her mouth to try and keep herself composed. This sort of thing is something she'll never be used to. It's not unwanted or even dismissed. Just, not what she's used to. This is something she's not used to. That was the point though, wasn't it? Alan was the first parautalitarian she met outside of Dylan. Trench was already dead and talking to her through the Hotline. The only other one she can think of that could maybe hold a conversation is Northmoore, and it's better if they not even talk about that.

« Who knows how that would turn out. Being stuck inside that container for decades? Hell, he could try to destroy the whole Bureau. And... Ahti isn't here to keep an eye on him. So, I guess I'll need to do that in the "morning." »

She tilts her head into his hand at her hair and closes her eyes. ]

Well, in years, it was a while ago. [ Jesse isn't sure she'll tell him just how long. She might of mentioned it once in one of the loops. ] You lucked out. The Hotline picked it up and Polaris didn't find it hostile. I think she's actually fond of you.

[ One eye opens part way with a small smirk. She can't really embarrass a interdimensional being made of resonance. ]

We don't have much at the Oldest House, but, you can probably find something you find comfortable in. We'll start there. Maybe you'll find something you even like. [ Or... not. That's possible. ] And, Alan. You don't need to thank me.

[ A small laugh comes from her at his reasoning. Not that it's a judgemental one, or even something of disbelief or mocking. The sound is almost harmonious and a tone that hints more at wholesome than anything. ]

You're not some other writer. You're Alan Wake... but, I get trying to fit in when you're never going to be able to be like everyone else. Maybe not in the same way you meant it. [ Jesse nods slightly, glancing to the side quickly at the self-admission. ] I'm not sure I ever saw you in an interview with a suit like that.

[crazyisinevitable]

[ Alan is the first person who would admit that his memory is scattered at best and completely unreliable at worst, but there are times when he has flashes of memories from times long ago. He's not really sure how long ago, although he's been told. He's been told numbers, dates, figures... but it feels different to him. The experience of it all feels different to him, because the Dark Place isn't linear. Time isn't linear there. They said it had been thirteen years since his disappearance, but it feels like much longer to Alan. How long? He can't be sure, but it feels a hell of a lot longer than just thirteen years.

But even though he can't quantify how long it's been in numbers, he can still remember something from what feels like the start of all this. Maybe it wasn't the start. Maybe it was years into it all. But it was the start of himself and Jesse as... as whatever they are. Two people who can make things happen. Two people who managed to find each other who have tried their best to hold onto each other through so many insane things.

It was a distress call. Faden sensed a drowning man.

The memory of it is faint now, and the words he typed even fainter, but he can still remember pieces of them. He wants to hold onto those memories, because they're important. They'll always be important. ]

A while ago. A long while ago, now. [ He might not have an exact number, but he knows it hasn't been a short period of time. ] Was it luck or something else? Was something guiding me along the way, as trite as that is? I've never considered myself lucky, not even when good things happened to me sometimes. [ Good things like meeting Alice and Jesse. I didn't deserve either of them. I don't deserve Jesse. ]

Fond of me, or does she just think I'm weird?

[ It's an attempt at self-deprecating humor, because even now, it's hard for him to imagine anyone being fond of him, not even an interdimensional resonance being like Polaris. ]

I don't think I can be picky right now, considering where we are and what we've gotten dragged into. [ He knows he probably shouldn't tell her outright that his comfort should be the least of their worries, but the thought has already formed in his mind. ] I'm fine with what I have. And I definitely do need to thank you. A lot.

[ He resists the urge to roll his eyes; not at her, but at the sentiment behind being Alan Wake. What the hell does that mean anymore? Who am I, anyway? Washed up, damaged goods, second-rate writer, murderer- Stop it. ]

Sorry, but- What does being Alan Wake mean anymore? [ He's shaking his head and he can't seem to stop himself. ] Everything that I did from before... the books, the movies that I obviously didn't have a hand in- that's from another time. From someone else. [ The world moved on without him, as it should have, but it's left him feeling like he has no place in it other than what he has with Jesse. ]

No, you wouldn't have, because- because I never wore anything like this before. I think it drove Barry nuts, because I just threw on whatever I felt like for interviews, talk shows, whatever. I think part of him understood because I mean... can you imagine Barry in a suit? Sorry, you probably can't. I mean, you don't know Barry. Maybe you'll get to meet him sometime. But a hoodie and jeans isn't what most people throw on when they're doing a televised interview, right?

[outlierdirector]

[ Jesse falls quiet once more. Green eyes fall from his, staring at gap between them where she can see the bed. She can remember the Hotline messages just as much as she can anything from Trench. Even the ones from Marshal. Should she remember them? How weird is it that she can remember them but he can't, when he is the one that reached out to her?

He doesn't need to roll his eyes for her to catch the tone in his voice. The thanks he gives doesn't go unnoticed despite what one might think by her silence. She is far from withdrawn, simply chosing to remain silent as nothing she could say would really give him answers anyways.

What does being Alan Wake mean anymore?

It sounds very close to Who is Alan Wake?

Her gaze lowers further. Alan, at his core, has always been the same to her no matter how many times around in loops and the spiral went. Afraid, but still finding that determination and courage to push forward despite it. A little sarcastic, and sometimes an asshole. Someone who cares about the people around him--regardless if he knows them--and wanting to protect them from himself and the dangers attached to him. Someone so incredibly human when she feels the opposite of herself. He is an author with an paranormal ability, and that may have been what her attention first, but it's not the only thing about him.

She also knows saying any of it won't matter. Alan doesn't feel like himself because he can't see it past everything he's lived through in the Dark Place. He doesn't remember things she does. Being told is one thing, but knowing and remembering is another.

A small inhale can be heard as hee gaze further burrows into the small place she can see for the bed. He thanks her for all her help, but it never seems like she can help him on the things that he needs to recover.

« Here, in the spiral. It doesn't really matter the when or the where. » ]

Barry Wheeler, your agent and best friend. [ Jesse realizes how quiet her voice is. How she sounds factual. ] He moved to Hollywood when they started making the movies on Alex Casey. The Buearu kept eyes on him given he was a key witness in the Bright Falls AWE. Just in case.

[ « Let's not mention the Blessed Organization ties. That's... he isn't ready for all that. He may never be. I doubt Alan will ever want to go as deep into this world as I am. »

Polaris shifts and Jesse's eyebrows knit slightly.

« No, he doesn't need to know right now. » ]

Maybe she's fond of weird.

[crazyisinevitable]

[ Silence falls between them and Alan pauses for a moment, waiting and listening until he raises his eyes, wondering what thoughts are going through her mind now. He wouldn't dare ask unless she indicates in that subtle way of hers that she's willing to talk. Maybe I haven't respected her space enough. She's a private person, and she keeps a lot inside. Maybe... Maybe I shouldn't look.

He can determine a lot about a person simply by looking at them and observing them, but maybe Jesse doesn't like that. Maybe Jesse doesn't want to be read like an open book. Maybe he needs to learn to not study people in the way that he does.

Maybe he needs to be different. He's already forgotten pieces of his own life, so... maybe reinvention is the key. Being different is the key. But who is he going to be? Staring down the idea that he's lost his sense of identity is a daunting task, and Alan knows he has no idea where to even begin. All he knows is that he feels like an impostor using the name Alan Wake, and that feeling only grows the longer he spends chasing thoughts around in his head.

Maybe he shouldn't try. Maybe if he's not talking about himself, it'll be easier. ]

Yeah. He's a good agent and a good friend. Maybe after all this, I can look him up. At least give him a call. Knowing him, he's doing just fine. I bet he likes it in Hollywood. And... [ Alan pauses for a moment, wondering if he should really voice what's on his mind. In the end, he decides to go for it. ] And I hope that Bright Falls didn't mess him up too much.

[ Another thing that's my fault. The list of things that isn't my fault would be shorter. ]

Are you fond of weird?