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oceanview (different path) || β lost in mist for days and days, now you see the sunny seas. β
In Night Springs, a solar system in your soup
'Cause in Night Springs, we're just looking for the thrill
All your nightmares come true
Lost in mist for days and days, now you see the sunny seas
Night Springs
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[ She misses him.
Elizabeth listens intently to his explanations. The Dark Presence sees everything and everyone as a pawn; a plaything. Things that are meant to be hosts for it. It's no wonder that Alan Wake fears it so much. Despite that? He is still trying to fix it.
That goes a long way in her mind. ]
Maybe it would have happened to any writer or creator near the Lake. [ Elizabeth can see another man. One that looks like Alan but is very much not him. A poet, an actor, a director. He can be what he wants because he can make it change around him. ] You weren't the first writer the Lake took. Were you?
[ They come to the end of the hallway. She looks around and picks a door. Her whole weight (which is not much at all) is thrown into the door. It budges and she stumbles into what seems to be the office of the man who ran the Lodge at one point. Pictures are still destroyed, meaning the identity of the man is entirely in question.
Elizabeth makes her way to the desk to begin looking for ... well, anything. ]
We may need to make our own way out, Mr. Wake.
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[ He shakes his head again, because he can't seem to stop himself from pinning the blame on himself. Maybe it's not all his fault, but maybe he's the catalyst for all of this starting. ]
Maybe, or maybe I just happened to have the world's worst timing, which sounds about right for me. [ Her question takes him by surprise, and after a moment's consideration, he realizes she's right. ] No, I wasn't. There was another writer before me, but maybe the Dark Presence didn't get what it wanted then, so now it's trying again.
[ Somehow, that doesn't make him feel better. Still, he follows after her, watching her pick the lock and then all but hurl herself at the door. Once they're inside the office, he keeps following after her, but he shoots her a questioning look. ]
How do you suggest we do that?
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[ "The world" and "reality" are more relative than he would believe. Those words are descriptive to some of a much smaller scale. A daughter and reversing a sin against her. That was the entire world for her father. So much so that now her world is gone too. ]
If the other writer found a way to stop it then you can as well.
[ She continues to rummage through the desk. ] You've never broken into somewhere before?
[ Somehow, she doubts that.
Elizabeth comes to a stop at a set of paperwork. She gently pushes the other items off it and raises the paper to look at it. Another "inmate" is named on this paper. ]
It's an entry log... probably should have been with the others. [ Blue eyes scan it before raising to his. ] The name is scratched out. But, it's about another patient that was here. Someone he referred to as "the Sister."
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[ He's just trying to understand where Elizabeth is coming from and where she fits into everything. Sometimes he feels like he barely understands where he fits into things. ]
Maybe I can, but I'm not as confident as you are. Before all this started? No, I wasn't really in the habit of breaking into places. Breaking things, sure. Breaking and entering? Not really. That's not a judgment, by the way, just- a statement.
[ But then he stops talking as Elizabeth begins describing the entry log and what's contained on it, and when she says the descriptor written on the paper, Alan pauses and stares at her. ]
... The Sister? That rings a bell for some reason, but I have no idea why.
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What will the effects of constantly writing himself in and out of stories be? What will happen to his memories?
She moves from behind the desk and stands in front of him. A hand raises and gestures to the chair beside them. The typical wooden chair. Then, a static seems to happen, and shows a chair made of a plush fabric and deep seated. It seems to fritz back and forth. The raised hand waves. Reality seems to ripple and then the wooden chair is entirely replaced with the plush chair.
No evidence is left to show that the wooden chair ever existed. ]
This is what I can do. Things that don't exist in one reality can be brought into this one. I call them tears. Things in reality that can be manipulated. [ Her arms cross. ] Does that clear things up for you?
[ Elizabeth hopes he will understand the bitterness in sharing her abilities. Her gaze moves back to the papers in her hands. She reads over them, pacing to one side, then to another. Something reminiscent of Alan pouring over manuscript pages. ]
...Oh.
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What the- [ And as soon as he says that, there seems to be an obvious ripple in reality (he hates how that doesn't faze him as much as it would have not that long ago) and the chair is a wooden one again, but only briefly as the ripples continue, and... the wooden chair is gone and a plush one sits there as if it was there all along. ]
... I- Huh. So you can just pull things out of one reality and put them in another whenever you want? That's... Wow.
[ He's both boggled and a little scared, if he's being honest. ]
Does that apply to people too? Animals? [ That's a really scary idea if that's the case, not to mention a lot of responsibility for one person to carry. ] How do you handle that and not, well... Freak out?
[ He notes how she goes back to reading the papers, and it does seem to be vaguely reminiscent of his own experiences with manuscript pages, but that's not what gets his attention. ]
What? Did you find something?
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I have been this way since I was a child. As long as I can remember. How does writing stories not scare you? Because, it's natural to you. [ Her eyes drop to the papers. ] A talent, I suppose.
[ Elizabeth comes to a stop. ] There is mention of someone else that was supposed to come to the clinic. Someone named "the Sister"... and mention of "the Brother", but, both seem to have gone missing. The Sister is documented as having been in Night Springs and, [ Her gaze flicks upwards, ] having been involved with the Writer.
You know her, don't you?
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Yeah, I kind of guessed that. Maybe I'm wrong, but that doesn't sound too different from how the Dark Place works. I don't know about fracturing minds and putting them back together, but I know I remember where I'm from. [ He shrugs. It's probably not the same thing at all and he's just grasping at straws for some reason. ]
I guess when you put it that way, it makes sense that it would seem normal to you. Normal, natural... not something to be scared of.
[ But then Alan's focus is drawn instantly by what Elizabeth says next. He all but snaps to attention once he realizes what she's said. ]
... The Sister? [ If she'd just said that and nothing else, he might have been only mildly curious, but since she mentioned the Brother and the Writer, that can only mean one thing. ]
Yeah... Yeah, I know her. And she was supposed to come here?
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[ Her way is forceful. It causes bleeding in a way. People caught in collateral. Which is why she tries to minimalize the contact and damage. Alan Wake seems to have thrown that idea to the side. ]
I never said it wasn't horrifying.
[ Booker, are you afraid of God?
"No. But, I'm afraid of you."
She glances away and her shoulders fall slightly. Then, her gaze shifts back to him. She holds the papers up for him to collect. The documentation is more like a diary, left by the doctor who ran the clinic they find themselves in. The doctor had met the Brother and they had moved him to a secure location. He was too dangerous and not a creative outlet. The Sister, however, had a connection to something great and powerful. Something that could have stopped the .... experiments being held at the Lodge.
Elizabeth crosses her arms. ]
no subject
Are you saying that your way isn't voluntary?
[ He notes the way that her shoulders fall, and a hint of something in her voice: sadness, regret, guilt? He's not sure which one, but it sounds like it could be a mix of all of the above. Maybe he's wrong, though; it's not like he knows her well at all. ]
I know. This is horrifying too. Maybe all of it is horrifying... what the Dark Place does, how the Dark Presence works. How the things we can do work. It all could be something from a horror movie.
[ He takes the pages from her when she holds them up, but he hesitates to read them. He's not sure what he'll see written on these pages. ]
I guess I don't know how any of this is supposed to help us. What are you hoping to do? Find a way to escape the situation you're dealing with? Maybe there's a way to bring you more into this story, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. Maybe I could write something that lets you find somewhere safe where no one will bother you again.
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[ Her head cants slightly as she regards him closer. It's clear he has forgotten what he has written in the story while he lives it. Most likely he's had to. Which means he is going through motions semi-blindly. However, it's also obvious that this "story" is still bound to this dark dimension. It has yet to overlap with the location he has intended to reach.
His memories as well aren't as they should be. She can see the door he's come from perfectly. He's... becoming washed out. Perhaps that is the best way to describe it. Details of his life are muddling with other Alan Wakes. Or, he is beginning to forget them entirely. All he can remember are descriptions and nouns. Vague facts.
Her blue eyes look at the pages in his hands. He must remember a sister and a brother. A sister having a powerful connection to another entity. She was important. She should be important.
His question causes her eyes to raise to his once more. Where his are gray and lighter and darkened? Hers hide a storm. A storm that he can see the hints of in her gaze. ]
I didn't come here voluntarily. Someone brought me here. [ Her weight slips to her other leg. Then, she gestures to him once more. ] You need to wake up, Alan.
Look up.
[ In the darkened attic room of a cabin, a young woman stands in front of the Writer's desk. A frayed Bob, a period blue dress and bodice, and a bird laden broach on her neck. Her hands are placed on the desk.
Then, she straightens once he focuses on her.
The Songbird. ]
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[ But realizing that he's having memory problems that seem to be progressively getting worse doesn't do very much to ease his nerves or settle him down. The story is dictating what he does and what he remembers, and all he can really do is follow the twists and turns of the plot. Not that he knows the plot; he just has to go along with what the story says. He's a character in this story; maybe that's all he ever was.
No, I'm not a character. I don't want to be a character!
He forcefully pushes away the notion that he's only a character, not a real person, and he snaps his gaze onto Liz sharply. ]
Someone? What someone? [ He has an inkling of a half-formed thought, but that's all it is. That's all the story's allowing. ] What do you mean? I'm awake.
[ She tells him to look up, and he obeys almost immediately, and then his eyes narrow as if he's not sure what he's looking at. ]
What- What is that? I don't understand. [ To Alan, it feels like he's seeing double and being reminded of something he saw once. Did he see it once? Did he imagine standing at a doorway looking at himself sitting at a desk like the one he's looking at now? Is he imagining all of this? ]
That's you, but- you're also you. [ The words sound nonsensical, but how else is he supposed to say them? ]
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The attempt of "waking" him up clearly failed. The story refuses to allow shortcuts. She stands in the attic--the Writer's Room--watching as he places his head back down to continue writing at the typewriter. His consciousness is projected so far out that he can't simply bring himself back to where he truly resides.
An idea strikes her then.
A small tear appears on the desk. A pen flashes from black to blue. She then picks the pen up, the papers he has typed, and evenly strikes out line after line. Then, a cursive and writing replaces it above it.
She has seen how the Master of Many Worlds editted stories. Why not she attempt it? It's clear now why Alan Wake has dragged her into this story, even if he is far from aware as to why himself. ]
Alan.
[ Elizabeth shakes her head at him as they stand in the "lodge" of "Night Springs." A part of her hates feeling as if she is reliving some of the last steps with Booker. Yet, Alan has clearly seen something of it and decided to use it as an attempt to escape. Except, this isn't truly to escape.
Alan needs something else before he can leave and he knows that.
Her hand lifts and she gently takes his hand into hers. Then, wordlessly, she leads him to the nearest door. She looks back over her shoulder at him as she opens it.
They cross through it.
Home.
The familiar New York City apartment is shrouded in darkness. No one seems to be home. Elizabeth let's Alan take a few steps ahead of her before letting go of his hand and simply standing in the living room. ]
This is where you've been trying to come back to--isn't it? "Home." An apartment with Alice Wake to fix your marriage after your trip to Bright Falls.
Isn't it?
[ Elizabeth knows it's wrong. He has been trying to get back to his dimension because someone else is waiting for him. Someone else with a guide. A sister trying to find her brother. A woman he pulled into "Departure" because her guide reached out to him. ]
It doesn't look like she's home, Alan.
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The Alan that's still trying to navigate the story pauses. He feels something nudging him, pulling at him, trying to lead him somewhere... But where? Where is he supposed to go? What is he supposed to do?
I'm lost.
The Alan at the typewriter keeps writing. The Alan in the lodge with Elizabeth looks as stuck as he feels, until Elizabeth takes him by the hand and leads him... where?
He can't see where they're going, until they cross through the door, and he has a feeling of traveling through water. Except there's no water or waves, just a passageway and a door, and-
Alan's breath tumbles out of him in a rush. ]
I know this place. I know this room, this apartment. [ He inhales, and the scent in the room brings back memories, or flashes of them. Images, mostly, nothing complete. ]
This is where I lived with Alice? Is this where I'm supposed to be? [ He looks around the room, and he realizes an uncomfortable feeling taking hold of him: it's a feeling of wrongness, that this isn't where he's been trying to go. This room, this apartment, was important to him once, and it still is to a degree, but it's not where he's been trying to go. ]
I'm looking for someone, but this isn't where that someone would be. Where is she, if she's not here? Where's home?
[ Did they talk about making a home together? Did they talk about finding a place that was theirs, that they could carve out a space for themselves in? This apartment isn't that place, but then... where is it? ]
How do I find her?
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Even her...
She simply shrugs at his first set of questions and sets to wandering the living room of the apartment. If it's a construction of his memories or the real place is hardly relevant. It triggers the memories and that is what he needs the most. What she finds curious is how he has lost so much in seemingly such a short time... and yet is pushing and fighting so hard.
Maybe it is because he is fighting. ]
You left here for Bright Falls at one point. A chance to get away and start fresh. The marriage, the writer's block.Block. You just wanted to get away.
[ Elizabeth walks past him and out into the hallway. With a few steps she stands at the door to what was once his room for writing--beside Alice's office. She gestures to the door.
Once opened and stepped through, Alan finds himself in Bright Falls. Main street. The banners proclaim Deerfest--the 68th Annual celebration. 2010.
Elizabeth takes a few steps and twirls in spot before turning back to Alan. Shaded people begin to move around, muttering distorted phrases, but none seem to notice the pair. Her hands raise to the town and gesture around them. ]
What did you do next, Alan? Once you came to Bright Falls.
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This place feels like it's full of memories, but Alan's having a hard time recalling any of them. He knows this place is where he used to live, just like he knows it's not the place he's been trying to find. The only problem is, he's having trouble remembering exactly where he's supposed to go.
Maybe that's what Elizabeth is here for. ]
I remember taking a trip... Yeah, I was trying to get away, because of everything; writing was becoming difficult, I couldn't make Alice happy no matter what I did. I don't think I made anyone happy.
[ She keeps walking, and he keeps following her, until she stops outside the room he used to write in. He remembers this room somehow, even though the door's closed. They step through it, and Alan blinks, then blinks again. ]
What the hell? I mean- I know you said you can do that, but...
[ He's surprised, to say the least. He watches her spin in place as people begin to walk past them. They don't seem like ordinary people, and while he can't quite make out what they're muttering, it doesn't seem usual. In fact, it seems highly unusual. ]
What did I do next... [ He tries to remember; he tries to follow everything in order, but his memories of it all are still sketchy and disjointed. ] The town was strange... I think that the Dark Presence was taking things over not long after I got there. Maybe it had been doing that for a long time, or maybe the story started when I arrived.
I was trying to find Alice, but so many things kept trying to misdirect me. I met... I met someone. Who did I meet? She stuck with me, I remember that much.
no subject
[ She has to wonder if there is more to it than he knew. Had the Lake called out to him and he never realized? Or, does Alan Wake simply always ended up at Cauldron Lake no matter the name, the face?
Constants and variables.
Elizabeth turns on the balls of her feet and leads him into a diner. The Oh Deer Diner. Shades move but the familiar female voice of greeting her favorite writer hangs in the air. It echoes just as old conversations do. She walks past the tables to head to the hallway that leads to the back. ]
"Be careful in there, young man! You can hurt yourself in the dark!" [ The shade hunched by the wall warns the two. Elizabeth glances over at it before continuing down. ] "You really should take a light with you."
[ The shade shoves a light in Alan's hands. Elizabeth continues down to the door that would lead back outside. ]
Were you trying to find Alice? Wasn't she back in New York? She didn't come with you to Bright Falls. [ She half-turns and waits for him at the door. ] Maybe another Alice and Alan Wake came to Bright Falls. But, not you.
[ Once he opens the door and steps outside, the scenery changes once again. He steps into a room with lights strung throughout. In the middle of the room sits a table with a shoebox. A revolver sits beside it.
Elizabeth stands on the opposite side of Alan, behind the table. Her arms cross under her bust. ]
That person you met came all the way with you to this room. Didn't she?
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[ Maybe he and Elizabeth are thinking along the same lines, or maybe they're not. At least he's starting to question things, even if he still feels as though questioning will ultimately lead him nowehre.
He follows after her, because what else does he have to do? What choice does he have in anything? To him, it feels as though his choices are becoming less and less.
A voice that sounds halfway familiar to Alan speaks up then, talking about how it can be dangerous in the dark and how he should take a light with him. And then the shadowy figure actually shoves a light into his hands, and although he nearly drops it out of surprise, in the next second, his hands tighten around it. ]
There was a kidnapper... or a ransom. Something that involved Alice being used as bait. Leverage. I don't know.
[ He's finding it more than a little hard to make sense of anything, and even harder to follow where Elizabeth is going. To Alan, it seems as though she's going down all sorts of rabbit trails and he's doing his best to follow her. ]
Why is this important? [ He can't see why, but at the same time, there's a feeling that something is keeping him from seeing why. Intentionally. On purpose. It doesn't want him finding something out. Maybe it doesn't want him remembering. ]
I don't understand where you're going with all this.
[ He doesn't, until he goes through yet another doorway, to another scenery change. And this time, there's a room: a room he's seen before and knows well. It's an important room, maybe one of the most important rooms he's ever been in. He looks up at the ceiling and turns slowly on the spot, looking around the room.
I need to remember something. But what is it? ]
I was here, in this room, and I wasn't alone. I had people with me. One person in particular.
[ Frown lines form on his face as he tries to make sense of a memory that's not a memory that is a memory that something is trying to block. ]
I don't know. I can't remember.
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She says nothing more until he settles opposite of her. Either ends of the small table with the shoebox between them. Uer skin crawls at how familiar and similar this scenario is playing out. How close it is to Booker. He must have seen it somehow and pulled it into a story to try and help him escape.
Not that there is much point if he doesn't remember why he is trying so hard to escape. The reason other than the obvious of being in a dimension that ebs and flows with the rest. ]
I was brought here to help you. Wasn't I? That's the reason the Writer needs the Songbird. You are the Writer... aren't you?
[ One arm unfolds from underneath her bust. A wide sweeping gesture is made to the shoebox between them. ]
You and I both know what this room is, Alan. We know what this room was for and why it was guarded. You know why you're here.
You know who was here with you. Their faces. Their names. You're simply letting something block your vision because it's easier to tell yourself you can't remember than accept the truth.
[ Her weight cocks to one side. A flat expression takes her face. A knowing expression.]
You can fight it all you want. But, you don't leave this room until you take what's in this shoebox and accept what you have to do it.
[ Something shifts behind Alan. Someone.
A young woman stands behind him at the door they just walked through. Bright green eyes, bright red hair. A backpack in her hands. Unlike the others they have encountered? This woman isn't shadowed. She's bright.
A geometric pattern that spirals around her. ]
We both know what that is.
no subject
Yeah, I'm the Writer, for all the good that's doing me. What the hell is the point in being the Writer when I have no idea what I'm doing or if it's even making a difference?
[ He shoots a glare at her and his hand curls around the flashlight he's holding as his temper rises. ]
You think I'm just letting this happen? That it's my fault I don't remember? That I'm trying to run away from something instead of dealing with whatever the hell it is head on?
[ He shakes his head, and then there's a loud sound as he slams the flashlight onto the surface in front of him. ]
You sitting there telling me these things is- it's not helping. What are you doing here, anyway, besides trying to piss me off?
[ He's so angry that he doesn't even notice the woman at the door. What he does notice is the flash of the geometric pattern and a kind of chime going off in his mind. But he's too incensed to even look right now. ]
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[ What she has given him is more information that she prefers to usually give out. Then again, Elizabeth usually avoids speaking to anyone when she moves from door to door. This is only unique because Alan has pulled her into the story. ]
Yes. I think you're running away from something you hated doing. Something you regret. We all run away from those things. It's human.
The thing is? Debts have to be repaid somehow and at some point.
My father taught me that.
[ A hand rests on her hip. Elizabeth wonders in that moment how many times Alan must have revisited this moment. Has he ever? Or has he tried to ignore the fact that this moment happened? It could be why he has forgotten who the Sister truly is to him.
She glances down at the flashlight slammed onto the table top. ]
You brought me into this story.
[ Elizabeth simply waits to see what Alan will chose to do next. A glance is sent to the recreation of the young woman by the Dark Place. The recreation constructed by Alan's mind--his subconscious. How often has she actually appeared and he ignored her? Was it because of what he did? Did the Dark Presence simply make him forget because he allowed it to happen? There's so many different possibilities that she isn't quite sure what one is at fault.
She raises her hand to the door behind Alan. ]
She's waiting, Alan.
[ The young woman's bright green eyes lower at the apparent idea of being ignored. Perhaps being ignored again. The grip on the backpack tightens. She frowns and looks to the side. ]
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[ Although Jesse and Elizabeth could both say they've had enough and leave or ask to be written out, and he wouldn't say no. No one should be forced to stay involved if they don't want to be. He has to be involved because this is all his problem to fix; anyone else who gets dragged in... well, he feels a need to try and protect them as much as he can, even if it means throwing himself in front of a bullet for them if needed. It's not some stupid noble idea built on pretenses; Alan genuinely believes that he needs to put himself in harm's way as much as he can, to try and protect people if he can.
It probably makes no sense at all, since he's the one dragging people into the line of fire, but once they're in, he intends to do what he can to protect them. As much as the story allows him to, anyway. ]
Running away? I'm running towards trying to escape. I'm not running away from anything, Elizabeth.
[ He fixes her with a glare. ] Don't you think I'm- Never mind. Forget it.
[ He sees being trapped in the Dark Place as him trying to pay his debts and fix himself in the process; of course, the Dark Presence doesn't want him to be fixed. It wants to keep him trapped, broken down, so that it can use him. ]
Do you want to be written out again? I think I can do that, somehow. [ He'll scratch out words on the manuscript again and write in new words and make it so she was never involved in the story at all. Maybe that's how it's supposed to be.
She's waiting, Alan.
Alan finds himself torn... confused. Definitely confused. Something in his mind seems to lurch and reel and strange flashes of images in black and gray flare to life in his mind. He tries to focus on the images but they're impossible to see or even recognize what they're supposed to be. Maybe he really is going mad. That does seem to be a side effect of the Dark Place.
He can see the woman in the doorway but something is still keeping him from really seeing her. His hands clench in frustration because he wants to remember her, because he can tell she's important, but something in his mind is still blocking him from reaching out to her like he wants to. ]
Do.. Do I know her? I know her, yeah, of course I do. This feels familiar, but I've forgotten, or something's making me forget.
[ Alan's vision seems to flicker again and he appears to briefly stagger before catching himself again. ]
Wait... Wait, there's something- [ He turns and stares at the woman again, harder this time. ] She was here, in this room. She was going to come with me, wasn't she?
[ Elizabeth most likely wouldn't know that, but Alan's mostly talking to himself in a desperate attempt to put the pieces together. Will it work? Who knows. ]