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synthneon2024-04-13 08:24 pm
outlierdirector) wrote in synthneon2024-04-13 08:24 pm
oceanview || ❝ two worlds colliding, there ain't no bargaining. ❞
There ain't no bargaining
No giving in without a fight
no subject
[ « Not as horrifying? I'd say "Return" was worse in some ways. A lot of ways. »
Her head hangs, back to him still, hands on the counter framing the takeout meal. The tension is still in her shoulders, but her stance oddly looks like defeat. Not that their conversation is even an argument.
« I just... I don't know what to DO. Just being here for him isn't really enough, is it? He still can't sleep through the night. He still won't eat. I'm not a doctor, not even a scientist, but I KNOW it will just make things be worse for him. What do I do, Polaris? What can I do?
I--I know you don't have the answers. I just--I wish I could be better at this.
I wish I could do for him what Alice probably did. »
She half-turns back to him. Anyone else would believe she is showing no emotions towards any of his answer. Alan will know better. He'll see the small frown on her face that's barely detectable; see the way her eyes soften to his words. He will be able to see the unspoken question in her gaze:
Are you really any better because of what I'm supposedly doing to help?
Is not-normal what he needs?
Jesse looks down and simply nods to his words. She doesn't argue with what he's said. Even a small glance is given to him to show she saw his smile and determination. None of this is about her, and she'd rather it not be about her. She doesn't like the spotlight. ]
I'll ask them to reference whatever you write to documented AWEs. Or, active ones, once they're done. Keep an eye out for any that might happen based on your stories. Published, not published, Night Springs. Whatever you decide to write.
[ There's not much else she can really do for him than that. Not as Director, or the woman from Ordinary.
« Some partner I turned out to be. »
She looks back down at dinner. Maybe it's a good thing Alan turned down to eat. She's lost her appetite. ] I'll put dinner away and get ready for bed. Are you staying up?
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He's starting to see that maybe Jesse can't help him. Maybe he can't even help himself. He doesn't know how to do normal things like sleeping and eating, and he still hesitates about turning on the shower and stepping into it. Going out during the day isn't easy for him either, because going out means interacting with people, and he's not sure how to do that. Most days, he doesn't try venturing out, but he can't stay inside forever. When he does go out, it's always brief, and it's easy for him to imagine the odd looks that he receives from people he passes by; he's tried to clean himself up somewhat, but the lack of sleep and lack of consistent food is most likely taking a toll.
He tried forcing himself to eat; that didn't go well. Forcing himself to sleep doesn't really work either, but at least he manages to get an hour or two here and there.
How do I get back to living? I can't ask Jesse to help me with that. That's a responsibility she didn't ask for. Maybe... maybe I do need therapy. But I can't imagine even telling anyone about this, not even a therapist. No, I can't see a therapist. I just don't know how to fix this. How to fix myself.
He pulls himself out of his swirling thoughts so he can watch Jesse. He doesn't stare with the intent of making her uncomfortable; he just looks at her, watching her reactions and the small shifts in her eyes and in her expressions. She says so much without using words, and it seems to him that reading her is one thing he's still decent at.
He can see the question in her eyes, and the look in his own eyes should tell her how unsure he is. Maybe for now, the subject of his well-being is best left alone, as he has no idea how to even improve it. ]
That sounds good. Thanks, Jesse. I want to help. I want to be useful. Writing is the only way I know how to do that. I just- I hope it doesn't end up causing more problems down the road. If AWEs start to happen because I'm writing again, then I'll stop. For good, if I have to.
[ I'll just have to find something else to do. Something else that maybe I can be good at.
His gaze turns towards what's left of the takeout she ordered, and once again, a feeling of guilt stabs at him. ] Let me help with that. You should get ready for bed, because you had a long day.
[ I think all days must be long ones for her; I can relate.
He shakes his head. ]
I thought maybe we could talk. Or if you don't want to do that, we can just be quiet together. Maybe there's something on TV.
[ Those things all sound so normal that they sound strange to Alan even as he says them, but he's trying. Not-normal doesn't mean avoiding normal things. It just means there's an element to being them that other people don't have. ]
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She waits until he has joined her at the counter before putting her hand on his wrist. Her way of trying to say she's still here for him. Fingers brush along the top of his hand before pulling away to rest along side him. ]
I still think, if anything, you'd point to them happening. Not cause them. You're not anywhere near Cauldron Lake anymore, Alan. [ Jesse looks down for a moment before trailing her fingers along his. ] I know that's not how you feel, so it probably doesn't help at all. Just... for what it's worth.
[ She gently leans her arm against his for a moment. Then, she stands up fully. She'd suggest they shower before bed. Intuition tells her that would be better in the morning when the sun is up. ]
Let's lay in bed... okay? Just us. Maybe the quiet will help. [ She forces a smile for him. ] We can talk there. About whatever you want. [ Jesse pauses again before leaning her cheek against his arm. A moment passes before she squeezes his hand again and finally moves to the bedroom.
Sleeping shorts and a long t-shirt. Jesse is far from a complicated or high maintenence dresser. The curtains are closed to the New York City skyline. She turns the LED light strips on, dimming them to a comfortable level to sleep with, and crawls into the bed. She sits on top of the covers, cross legged, pulling her hair from the golden prymaid pin that keeps it back.
She glances at the door, then looks down and her hands as she waits. Hands that are scared and calloused from the numerous encounters with thresholds. Not that she has ever had beautiful looking hands. Times like this with Alan are ones she feels she will never compare to Alice Wake. Not that she replaces her, or would even want to replace her. Jesse just can't help but feel she is league's out of the sort of person Alan Wake should even let catch his eye.
Jesse looks up once the door opens and she gives a timid smile. Almost as if she's asking if the lighting and room meets his needs for the night. ]
no subject
Putting the pieces of himself and his life back together is a harder task than he could have anticipated, and it feels to him as though he's made barely any progress towards moving forward at all.
He barely manages to stop himself from startling when Jesse places her hand on his wrist; he trusts her and he knows her touch, and her touch has always calmed him to some degree, but that feeling that he has to jump out of his skin all the time won't go away. Still, he visibly relaxes when he feels her fingers brushing against his hand. ]
There's still so much I don't know, though... about myself, about my writing, about... everything. How am I supposed to know what's right? You're the Director at the Bureau, so you'd know better than most. Better than I would. It helps, believe me.
[ I can trust her when I can't even trust myself, and that's what matters.
When she leans her arm against his, he stills, wanting to just stay like that for a little while. For as long as they can. He still has to remind himself every now and then (well, all the time) that this is real, that she's not going to leave him and he's not going to wake up back in the Dark Place, in the Writer's Room. She's going to be there when they go to sleep and when they wake up, and he doesn't have to be afraid of the darkness anymore.
... Except he is afraid, and they both know it. ]
Okay. That- that sounds nice. [ He has to remind himself that moments like these are real; being able to just lie in bed with Jesse is real.
She moves to the bedroom, and he follows once he's dressed for bed as well, and it's just as simplistic and comfortable as Jesse's chosen sleepwear. It feels strange to him, because he's used to wearing a lot more than a long t-shirt and shorts, but it's just one more thing that he has to get used to again.
He opens the door and peers around the corner, looking for her and noting the dimmed lights and the closed windows. He takes a step forward, followed by another, until he's standing in front of the bed. ]
Hey.
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...being the Director doesn't mean I know everything, Alan. I can't tell you what's right. That's a feeling inside that you'll just know. You just need to trust that instinct more.
[ With that said, she leaves him to finish putting away dinner.
Jesse looks up once he walks into the room. A glance is given to the fact he's at the end of the bed and not on the bed with her. She doesn't beckon or give a sly look. Instead, she simply moves further onto one side of the bed. A silent invitation or maybe demand of where he moves to be on the bed with her. ]
I can make the lights brighter tonight if you need it. [ Jesse knows it comes off awkward, but she tries to make the offer regardless. ] Today seemed like it was a good day, but...
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A response is on the tip of his tongue, but then she turns and walks away to put away the dinner he didn't touch.
I don't know how to explain it so she'll understand, but she knows more about things that should be unexplainable, about AWEs, about how thresholds work. What I know wouldn't even fill a page.
He stays at the foot of the bed for another second, but he shakes his head. ] This is fine, Jesse, thanks. Really. [ He looks down at his feet for a second before looking back at her. ] Thanks for putting up with me.
[ And then he moves over to his side of the bed and joins her in sitting down on top of it next to her. ]
Yeah. Today was- well, it was alright. Better than most days. It's better when you're here too.
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Jesse waits for him to be comfortable before she gently leans again his arm. Head rests on his shoulder for a moment as her eyes close. ]
I said I'd do what I could. [ She's waited for him, he's waited for their life together. ] You made progress and you're writing. That's something. Maybe you can even get some sleep.
[ Jesse pauses and then sits up. She motions for him to lay down. Maybe she can actually give him a massage like she tried do. ]
Lay down.
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When he sees her, he just sees the two of them and the life they might be able to have together, the life they've both waited for.
He leans a little bit against her too when she leans against him, and for a moment, his eyes close too. ]
You're doing that, and more. [ I'm the one who can't figure things out. ] Progress, huh?
[ It's clear from the expression he doesn't bother to hide that he doubts what he's done counts as progress, just as much as he doubts his ability to sleep. His eyebrows raise as she tells him to lie down, but given how much he trusts her, he complies, shifting until his head is resting against the pillow and he's lying down on the bed. ]
All right, now what?
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« It's too similar to Dylan. »
Jesse motions for him to roll over. Once he has, her fingers move back to his neck and trailing down the back of it. Moving across the shoulders. The touch is light, only pressing when the knots appear. She hopes to calm his muscles so he can relax and sleep.
« I really should take him to a professional tomorrow. Imagine that. A day off for both of all of us. Sound like a good idea? »
She just hopes it helps. ]
Hopefully it's better on the bed then the couch.
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But the whole time, he was told he wasn't stable enough, that he needed to stay until he'd recovered enough from his ordeal. If he could have, he would have scoffed at that word, because it hardly described the hell that he'd gone through over the last thirteen years.
But he doesn't want to think about that now; he doesn't want to remember feeling helplessly afraid when the sedating medication began pulling him under. He fought so long to be awake and stay awake, so when he felt the medication dragging him down, he fought against that too, but it was only a losing battle.
Stop, I don't want to think about this anymore.
He rolls over immediately when Jesse asks him to, partly so he can try and hide his face from her in case any of his uneasiness from his memories shows. A sigh escapes him as she begins touching his neck, his shoulders, anywhere the knots of tension appear. Of course, there's so much of it that it doesn't go away that quickly, and his mind's tendency to drag up memories he'd rather not think about ever again doesn't help. ]
When you're done, I want to do this for you too. [ She deserves to be cared for too, and he intends to do that as best as he can. ] Yeah, the bed is great. It- It's great.
[ Sometimes he finds it difficult to put into words what he's thinking or feeling, which feels wrong at the same time, because he remembers times when he did nothing but talk about how he felt or what he thought, but maybe it's simply because talking about such normal things as a bed or a couch is unfamiliar territory to him now. Maybe it'll become normal again with time. He hopes it does. ]
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Her expression falls at his words. Not at the fact he'd want to return the favor, but at the fact that living seems so difficult. Alan has been existing for so long, that maybe even their not-normal is too difficult to really grasp. Maybe she's tried to pull him down the path faster than he can keep up. She may have misread the entire situation in trying to help him.
Hands still on his back. A moment passes where she does nothing and says even less. They stay resting on his shoulder blades. She glances up at the ceiling, frowning, trying to keep those emotions she controls so tightly in their place. Another moment passes before she begins to move.
She quietly lays down on him, arms moving to circle around him. Her head rests between his shoulder blades. Comfortable, but able to move in an instant if he'd prefer she not be so close to him. This may not be what he needs either.
The position brings to mind the memories of the Writer's Room. Hiding her face in his back as some of her darkest things were put on display for him to see and know her by. Alan probably doesn't remember them--can't remember it--but that doesn't change the fact she does. Her gaze lowers to the back of his t-shirt. ]
I'm sorry that I'm so bad at this. [ Her eyes close as she gives him a gentle hug. She wants to hold onto him tighter. Love him more. Alice probably could of done this so much better. She probably did it better. Would do it better. ] What do you need me to do to help?
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Drowning. I'm drowning. Let me die.
Sometimes he asked for Jesse. Sometimes he thought she never came, and he'd start to ramble wildly, hyperventilating and trying to escape what his mind was telling him was his own personal hell.
Most of the time, he begged the medical team to let him go, but of course, they didn't. Even when they sedated him with medication, even though he looked like he was resting on the outside, on the inside, he was anything but. The medicated sleep did nothing to stop his mind from bringing up all the dark memories Alan wished- prayed he could forget.
When he was calmer, he'd ask if this was ever going to end, if he'd ever reach a point of being stable enough to not be sent off to medicated sleep after medicated sleep. The answers he got in return were hardly satisfying; he was told that his recovery was largely up to him, that the timetable was his to decide. Except how could he decide, when he couldn't really decide anything?
He was at his calmest whenever Jesse came by and held his hand, and although it seemed to be very slow progress, he responded well to seeing her. The medical team whispered amongst themselves that it wasn't anything medicine was doing, but something more intangible but no less real, although they didn't say anything about it when Jesse was around, although a lot of knowing smiles were exchanged.
Alan realizes too late that his thoughts are running away from him, that he's losing himself in recollections, and he pulls himself out of his own head with effort. Jesse's already figured out that he's having a hard time getting used to actually living, but it's something he's trying to achieve. It just doesn't feel like he's making progress fast enough for his liking. Still, it's not something he can brute force, so he just forces himself to focus on what's happening right now, not on what hasn't happened yet.
He feels her hands still, but he doesn't feel her pull away. His head turns slightly to the side as if wanting to look over his shoulder at her, but then he hears her shift and then feels her arms circle around him. He feels safe when she's around; maybe there's no shielding either of them from the darkness that still lingers in their reality and in other realities too, but that doesn't stop him from feeling a sense of safety with her. Now if only he could offer her that same sense of security and safety in return.
This time, he actually does move so he can glance over his shoulder at her. ]
You're not bad at this. I'm the one who's bad at... everything. [ His shoulders give an involuntary shake that he can't hold back. ] All I know how to do is...
[ He shakes his head. ] Never mind. Just being here is helping. Just stay here, as long as you can.
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Drowning, drowning, I'm drowning.
She had seen him break down before, but the panic attacks and desperation moments she saw within the Oldest House? It broke something inside her in a certain way. Not that she would name the emotion. The scenarios just help build the feeling that maybe everything they were doing wasn't helping at all. Emily reassured her otherwise as did the doctors.
I just want to sleep. PLEASE. Let me die!
One particular time stood out as the worst--in her opinion. She had sat besides him, holding his hand, waiting for him to wake up so they could talk. They had to decide if he felt he was ready to leave the Oldest House and live in the world outside. She'd offer her apartment, as they discussed numerous times, even though there was a bubbling anxiety inside her he'd change his mind. He finally came out of his induced slumber and she smiled for him. A wide smile that many would say was uncharacteristic. He looked at her and Jesse knew immediately he wasn't seeing her. If he saw anything at all.
He grabbed her hand.
"I'm drowning, drowning. Deeper, deeper, there's no way out. There's no way out! I've written so much. Just let me go home. I just want to go home! If you're not going to let me go home? Then, just let me sleep. I can't--I can't write anymore. There's nothing left. No plot, no words, no Alan Wake. All gone. He's gone. Why won't you let me die too?!"
The team rushed into the room and set to work trying to calm him down. He became more erratic and eventually they had to resort to more medication. Jesse watched in silence, only flexing her hand once his grip on her arm and hand relaxed. Anyone who couldn't read her would think she had no reaction to the whole display. Those that know how to read her would see everything in her eyes. Fear, worry, shock.
Is what we're doing really the best...? What is it that Alan really feels and wants? Does he want to be here, with me, or...
She never told him about the episode. She knew it would just upset him more--make him spiral further into the struggle he was having about adjusting to it all.
Jesse glances up at him as his shoulders shake. That same look of worry and fear is only in her gaze for a moment before its locked back down. Her hold on him tightens before pressing her face further into his back. A hand lifts in order to pull a blanket over them with her powers. A light blanket, because anything heavier might set off that feeling of being pressed down and ... drowning. ]
Alan. [ She swallows the lump of emotions in her throat. It doesn't stop that soft vulnerable tone he'll know. The one that tells him exactly how she's feeling even if nothing else does. ] ...is this where you really want to be? Here, with me. Living with me.
[ « Living with US. » ]
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Am I the person she fell in love with? Can she love me when I'm like this?
Maybe he still is Alan Wake beneath all the terror and the panic and the doubts about his ability to even live in this world again, but he can't shake the feeling that Jesse didn't sign up for this. She didn't sign on the dotted line agreeing to take care of a damaged man for the rest of her life.
She didn't sign anything, but here we are. Is she staying with me because this is where she wants to be? I know Jesse, and I know she doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do. She wouldn't stay just because it's the expectation. She's staying because she wants to. I think.
The blanket that Jesse pulled over settles over both of them, and Alan shifts slightly. ]
Now's as good a time as any, right? Let me give you a shoulder rub too. [ He says that first, to buy himself some time to figure out an answer. He already knows his answer, but he wanted to put proper thought into it before he just blurted it out. ]
Yes. Yes, this is where I want to be. [ He feels words boiling up to the surface, and he knows he has to say them all. ] I always- well, since I met you... I wanted to be with you. I wanted to come home with you. I want to be with you, to live with you, to be in your life.
I just- It's going to take me time to figure out what the hell my life even is. What it's going to look like. Maybe- maybe you don't want to stick around while I figure that out, because I can't even say that it'll be easy.
[ He knows there will be rough days, and he might hurt her feelings, and he knows full well he's already done too much of that. ]
But- when you're here, knowing that you're here even if you're at work... it makes me want to keep trying. To keep trying to figure out who I am.
[ It takes a second, but he slowly shifts on the bed, not moving too much so as to dislodge her from how she's pressed against him. ]
I can't imagine being anywhere else.
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Her gaze shifts downwards before he begins to move. Who he is. Jesse knows who he is. She's seen who Alan Wake can be at his lowest and at his highest. His perception of himself has been so damaged that she knows he can't see it. She just wishes there was a way she could help him see it instead of just being the moral support on the sidelines.
« I've never been good at sitting on the sidelines. »
He begins to shift and Jesse lifts herself up for him to move. Once he's most likely settled on his back, she returns to laying down as she was. Her head rests on his chest and arms wrap around him again. It's not often she let's herself be like this. Only when she's scared, really.
Scared of losing him. ]
Since we met in Bright Falls. [ Jesse responds with something like a joking poke. She doubts he remembers the Hotline calls he made to her. They would have been so long ago for him. His memory is spotty as it is...
"He's gone. Why won't you let me die too?!"
Jesse closes her eyes once more and presses into him gently. ] Do you want to stay in tomorrow or try to go out?
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His brow furrows in thought. He put them back in the story, he remembers that much. But what else? What else even comes close to count as caring for her?
Maybe he'll never see himself the way he used to. Maybe it makes sense, because that younger man who thought he could fix the story and right everything that had gone wrong has been gone for a long time. The man who's here now is older now, and more tired, and so very uncertain of where he fits into this world. Maybe that's the point: maybe he doesn't have a specific place anymore. He's just one of many faceless people trying to get through the day to day.
That thought that he thinks he's had before occurs to him again: the world moved on without Alan Wake. He's not exactly a household name, not that he wants to be that now. Oh, a small number of people might like his books and the movies made from them, but that's about it. And that's how it should be.
He shifts until he's on his back, but he reaches for Jesse's hand, the closest one to him, and he begins to rub small circles against her palm and the back of her hand. ]
Bright Falls. Yeah. [ A ghost of a smile turns his lips upwards in response to her light poke. His eyes don't drift, exactly, but he looks like he's trying to recall an elusive memory. ] It was Deerfest, wasn't it? I haven't thought about Deerfest in a long time. [ That insane version of Deerfest doesn't count. I barely remember that, but I know it doesn't count. ]
But... [ That furrow in his brow deepens. He feels the strands of a thought in the back of his mind and he tries to grab at them. He's lost so many of his memories and sometimes remnants come back to the surface. Those, he desperately tries to grab at and hold onto. ]
That... that wasn't the first time we met. Talked. Was it?
[ He rubs bigger circles against her hand as he ponders her question. ] Where did you want to go? You don't have to stop by the Bureau?
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She presses into him again, hand curling slightly at his touch. No pulling away, no stopping him. She may feel awkward and find the touches something unusual, but, she never pulls away from them. Just things to adjust and get used to when being with someone. ]
Before Deerfest. You left for the Dark Place again the night before it. [ Her gaze drops slightly before she closes her eyes. ] You disappeared right before it too in 2010.
[ Jesse falls quiet for a moment at his question. What should she say? She knows she's told him once about how he reached out to her on the Hotline. How Polaris didn't find him hostile. How she did everything he had instructed over the Hotline--then nothing
Not exactly nothing. He gave a warning for when the AWE in Bright Falls would happen again. ]
It was the first time I talked to you. The frequency you called me on doesn't go both ways. I can hear what anyone says to me, but, no answering back. [ She pauses, shoulders curling. ] It's why I was excited to meet you the first time. Everything else that ever used the Hotline was either some entity... or dead people. Getting to talk to someone that was like me... it was nice.
[ « Someone like me who wasn't dead or in coma. It probably won't make sense to him. » ]
Just... out. Maybe shopping. [ She spares a quick glance up at him. ] They can hold it down for one day without me.
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He doesn't need a grand occupation or responsibilities; he doesn't need something big and important to give his life meaning. Just being with her is all the meaning he needs. Everything else... well, he'll either find it or he won't. Writing is slowly coming back to him. Maybe the rest of it is just slow too.
He continues rubbing circles onto her hand as the conversation continues. ] All I remember about Deerfest is... well, it's nothing good. [ He sees deer heads flying at him and exploding. He sees two-headed deer statues turning to stare at him through sightless eyes. A small shiver forms at the base of his spine. ] I remember... I remember a Deerfest that no one could ever escape from. [ Scratch's Deerfest. ]
I want to experience Deerfest, but not like that. Sorry, I know that's- it's not important.
[ He keeps up his circular motions against her hand as a thoughtful look takes his face. ] The first time you... [ He trails off as he thinks this over. Have I said this before? I can't remember. ] I didn't know if I could even reach you, or reach anyone. I- I'm not sure I even really knew who was on the other end of the phone. Oh, I wrote about it, and maybe that page is around somewhere, but I don't know if I really believed in what I was doing.
[ His memories of reaching out via that frequency are so scattered, just as every other memory of his that he's managed to hold onto. ] I hoped that I would get through to someone. To you. I guess it took a long time for you to be able to talk to me.
[ I wonder if she regrets it. She doesn't sound like she does. ]
Out. Shopping? I- Huh. [ He offers her a sort of half-smile that almost lights up his eyes. ] So people don't do all their shopping at home on their computers? It makes sense, I guess, especially if you need groceries. It's going to sound ridiculous, but I'd like to go shopping with you.
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The suggestion to go out shopping was made on the whim. Now that she thinks on it? It might help more than just him confining himself to their apartment or the Oldest House. Seeing the world--touching it again. ]
I'm not sure having you anywhere near Cauldron Lake is a good idea, Alan. [ « Or anywhere near Washington State. »
Instead, her fingers flex out. The gentle hum of energy vibrates as she uses her abilities. A whistle through the air as she pulls something to them. Small, round, metal. It gently lands beside them. Her half of their token of Deerfest. A keychain made to be separate--and one that she is certain Emily would say needs to be locked up and studied. An item altered by two parautalitarians. It's new ground. But, that ground is something deeply important to Jesse. Something she isn't going to give up. If anything? It might always help them find one another. ]
It's the best part of Deerfest. [ Jesse speaks in relation to their keychains. ] Probably the only souvenir we could ever bring home.
[ Her hand curls around his, despite the circles he makes on her skin. It's a nice feeling--though her hands are probably anything but nice. Callous, scars, worn from manual labor and the fights as Director. He's never once complained about how uneven they must feel. ]
You said that once. [ She nestles further against him. ] It doesn't change the fact that I wanted to meet and talk with someone like me. Someone not dead, or in coma, or moved onto whatever other plane of living exists. Just... someone else who lived through something like me and came out different for it. I'd never met anyone like that before the Oldest House... and even then? It's still not the same.
[ « No point in saying it. Alan knows all this already. » ]
People still go out and live in the world, Alan. The phone and computer just make it convienent. [ She glances up to see his smile. ] Groceries... clothes? Anything else you'd want to see?
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Maybe he needs to force himself to eat and sleep and shower and just be a person again. But can he ask Jesse to help him with that, when he's asked so much of her already?
Maybe the first step is venturing outside the apartment and stepping out into the world again. Maybe something as mundane as shopping is what he needs. Still, he'd be lying if he said the thought of it didn't terrify him. Who knows what might set him off out there? His mind conjures up ideas of being dragged off by paramedics and forced into a room with padding on the walls and nurses with needles waiting to inject him with medication to put him to sleep.
No, I won't have that happen again. Not again. Never again. What the hell do I do?
He's not as skilled in the art of forcing emotions off his face, but he gives it the most valiant effort he can, attempting to keep the fear he feels from showing on his face. Jesse doesn't need to know how scared he is. And honestly, aside from his fear, he does want to go outside. He wants to feel fresh air on his face and know that it's not the stale, stagnant air of the Dark Place's version of New York City. He wants to see grass again, and trees, and be reminded of how they really look. No, he knows he wants to go outside more than he wants to stay in and keep being controlled by fear. ]
Yeah, I know. I can't ever go back there. I shouldn't go back there. It's not safe. [ He knows it, and he just states it plainly like the fact that it is. ]
I don't need to go back there.
[ His eyes travel to Jesse's half of the keychain, and seeing it makes him smile. His half of it is in the study by the computer, and he wishes he'd picked it up and brought it with him so he could put it with Jesse's. ]
It's the best part of us, isn't it? [ He wonders if she'll know what he means with that statement. To him, the keychain represents them when they're happy and actually content and whole, but it also represents a wish he has that one day, they'll have that all the time, not just in the days and hours of his good days. Maybe one day, all they'll have are good days and the bad ones will just be a distant memory.
As for Jesse's hands, he loves the feel of them. He can feel the strength in her hands, and every callous and scar tells a story of how far she's come. She has the strength to protect people, to fight for people, and he loves that about her.
He doesn't respond with words, because he feels that words aren't needed. He's heard variations of this from her before, and it's no less meaningful than the first time he heard it. He wants to live up to those wants and desires and wishes of hers, to be someone she's glad she met, not someone she regrets ever interacting with. Maybe he'll always have that push and pull between certainty and doubt, but maybe now that he's home for good, he can work towards being someone she's happy to come home to every night.
Before he answers her again, he nestles himself in a little closer, shifting just enough that he can press a kiss to the closest thing he can reach: the side of her neck. ]
Sorry. Yeah, of course people still go out and do things. [ He huffs out a humorless laugh. ] I- Sometimes I have to look out the window to remind myself that the streets out there aren't always dark. This isn't that place. People can walk around on the street and not have to worry about...
[ He shakes his head; whatever he was going to end that sentence with slipped out of his mind. That just happens sometimes. His smile still remains, because she makes him want to smile for her. It's a trite idea, but it's just how he feels. ]
Do you have a favorite place to go when you're not at the Oldest House? What about a favorite thing to eat? [ It's a long shot at best, but maybe her favorite thing could become his too, especially since whatever was his favorite food at one point is seemingly another lost memory. ]
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It wouldn't help that need to see something in a better light as opposed to it being wrapped in horror. Nothing is the same as Deerfest, and they can't replace anything with it. It's just not safe--as Alan has said. They don't know how the Dark Presence in Cauldron Lake would react to him. They don't know how Alan would react to it. Jesse doesn't want to find out. The spiraling loops were bad enough. ]
... yeah, it is. [ Her voice oddly turns vulnerable at the statement. Eyes close at the kiss to her neck. She shifts so her head rests on his shoulder and a little on the pillow he has claimed. She'd even dim the lights further if she thought Alan would be alright with it.
Part of her wishes they could hold each other in the dark and fall asleep to the distant sounds of the city.
« Will there ever be a time when Alan won't think he's still in the Dark Place? » ]
There's a coffee shop we can go to. I usually stop there on days off. [ She smiles to herself.
It's where she sat and read a majority of the Alex Casey novels. Though, she won't be sharing that little secret. He already knows she has read his books. If he hadn't remembered from the several times in the loops? Then, he's seen the collection of them on her shelf. They're not put up in some place of honor or even on a pedestal. Just a shelf where you'd need to look for them. Hiding the things that are most important to her--even if the attachment to them is more because of Alan Wake than the books themselves. ]
I like just normal American dishes... you know, burgers and things. [ Simple, easy, inexpensive. ] Have you been able to remember anything? Favorite foods, or maybe even just a favorite restaurant that we could try out?
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[ He thinks about Alice's pictures and he wonders if a picture can ever just be a picture for people like them. For parautilitarians. ]
All I know is, I just want to do things with you, even if they seem like silly, insignificant things. There's always things going on in the city; maybe we can check some of them out, when you have a day off. Maybe it's a bad idea, and maybe I'll fly off the handle, but...
[ I can't hide in this apartment forever, can I? ]
We can still have good days, you and me. Well, you know what I mean. [ His expression shifts to something betraying a little residual guilt, because he's certain his bad days take a toll on her, and it's not fair of him to put that on her. ] The keychain makes me think about that, about what good days we might have. And- and I love you.
[ He knows that sentence doesn't follow anything before it, but he doesn't care. He wanted to tell her he loves her, because even though she might know it and even though he might tell it to her a thousand times over, he knows he'll always want to tell her. ]
Okay, a coffee shop sounds good. We should go.
[ He hasn't told her in so many words, but in the times when it's just him in the apartment while she's away at the Oldest House, he's padded around the various rooms, walking through each one and just looking around. Not prying into anything personal or anything that's hers, because he'd never do anything to disrespect her privacy, but if it's on a shelf and within eyeshot, he's glanced over it. He's seen the books, and he caught himself smiling at them. He wondered if maybe he should ask if she wanted them signed, but part of him recoiled from that idea.
Book signings are a thing of the past, as far as he's concerned. No one really cares about Alan Wake the writer anymore. The urban legend surrounding his disappearance is probably a more common topic. ]
So kind of like comfort food. [ The phrase sounds foreign to him, but logically, he knows that it's one that people use. But he shakes his head slowly in response. ] Not really, but I'm trying. I think that the memories are there, but I just can't seem to reach them. Maybe if we walked around, I'd remember more. Or maybe not.
[ Maybe those memories are just gone for good, and I'll have to make new ones. ]
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[ A pause. ] We'll stop if things get to be too much. Find somewhere quiet.
[ Bad days with him take a tole, as do the bad days at the Buearu. She'll tough if it out. They're worth it if it means he is here living with her. In the end that is what she tells herself. Everything will be worth it in the end. Maybe he'll never be fully recovered from the experiences with the Dark Place. That's fair. Jesse still holds the baggage and scars from Ordinary.
« We can't let it stop us anymore. »
She lifts her head, chin resting on his shoulder. The low light causes that glimmer in her eyes to be a more reflective glow than anything. The hand he rubs curls around his. ]
We'll start with the coffee and go from there. Sound good? [ Small steps. Then, she nods. ] Yeah, comfort food.
[ She glances down. The temptation to kiss him is there. Now doesn't seem to be a good time for anything along those lines. He's had worse days, but, it just doesn't seem to be the right thing to do. ]
When I was--we were--trapped in that spiral. And Polaris and I tried sending you those messages. [ Jesse's gaze shifts as it normally does when she brings up something possibly uncomfortable to either of them. ] I sent a lot of messages. Most, if not nearly all of them, got to you. Sometimes... sometimes they got to someone else. You, but not you. Younger, like when you first got to Bright Falls.
I figured it was something to do with the fact he was on a frequency that Polaris could reach... but... did anything like that ever happen to you?
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[ His mind conjures up an all-out war between the Bureau and the Dark Place, and this time, he doesn't think there'd be any survivors. It might be on the Bureau's home turf, but the Dark Presence is already powerful. What if it somehow became even more powerful, even away from Cauldron Lake? No, he knows he can't ever have anything to do with Cauldron Lake again, because the risks are too great. ]
We're in New York; it's like- well, it was a huge arts center back in the day, I think. There's probably something we can find to do. I owe you a date, or ten.
[ He's trying as hard as he can to sound normal, to act normal and talk about normal things, but it all feels wrong to him in his mind. Still, he's trying and putting in the effort, because Jesse deserves it. It won't stop him from feeling terrified every time he turns a corner, and it won't stop the constant stream of dark images that filter through his mind, but- he hopes that with time, the dark images get replaced by other ones: happier ones. Maybe he never will ever be fully recovered, but he knows he wants to get as close to it as he can. Still, it's not something he can force; he has to take it a day at a time.
He shifts so that he can gently lean his head against hers even as he continues rubbing her hand, tracing patterns along the callouses and scars that he's already starting to memorize. ]
Sounds good.
[ He still doesn't have a lot of confidence in himself to actually carry out the actions that most people do without even thinking, but... well, at least he can still do this. His lips turn up into a wider smile and he leans in again so that he can press a kiss to her cheek. At least he can still kiss her; hopefully it feels good to her and doesn't feel like something repulsive or unwanted.
Alan's expression shifts slightly as Jesse starts talking about messages she tried to send in an effort to reach him. ]
Someone else? Me, but not me. That sounds familiar, because I did something like that a handful of times too. I really missed you and I wanted to hear your voice so I tried to reach out. I found you, but it wasn't you. Well, it was, but you were younger. Different. I wanted to help you too.
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Whenever the AWE ended? Nothing was left. Everything was pulled back into the Lake. We have a monitoring station to be able to tell if things begin to move. We'll work on making sure nothing gets out--or at least that we're ready if it does.
[ There's the matter that when they investigated Alice's apartment? There was nothing left for the Bureau to take. Some one else had already been in to clean it out. It's details she doesn't want to share with Alan. Not until they can find out who took what out of the apartment he shared with his wife. She owes it to both Alan and Alice to get to the bottom of it. For now? It's just something else for him to worry about. ]
A date? [ Eyes widen slightly with a hint of pink to her cheeks. ] No, you don't owe me any of them. We don't even need to go on dates. It's not required.
[ She blinks once, twice. Another version of her? Younger. Eyes dart to the side in thought. ]
How was she? I mean, how did she act.
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