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Bright Falls was a beautiful place, regardless of the dark secrets it held, with its rolling hills and steep mountainsides, the wetness of the weather and the early foggy mornings giving a cozy feeling to those still inside past 7AM. It had been weeks now, since Alan Wake and Saga Anderson had jointly saved the town from the Dark Presence, ridding the world of Scratch and finally allowing those affected by it some peace. From the past, and the present, from Thomas Zane and Barbara Jagger, to his own wife Alice; Alan still feels guilty. Call it survivor’s guilt, call it PTSD, but he still can’t shake the feeling that even though the Dark Presence hadn’t been his creation, it was still all on him. The local therapist didn’t seem to be helping at all, but he’s trying. They all are.
Alan settled down. Alice was gone, either dead or in the Dark Place, or wherever - Alan couldn’t figure it out. He had been dedicated for so long, still wearing his ring on his finger and twisting it against his skin when he felt anxious (which, by the way, was most of the time - the Dark Place had changed him). One would have expected that the famous writer would have gone back to doing what he was known for, but the mere thought of even touching a typewriter made him feel sick, his throat on fire and his stomach churning and turning with anxiety and dread. Now, as he walks to the Oh Deer Diner, Alan reminds himself to bring that up in the next therapy session. There were many things that gave him that same feeling: deep water, like Cauldron Lake, and the darkness. He hated to admit it, but Wake had started to sleep with a nightlight, along with a flashlight underneath his pillow. When had he become such a shell of a man? His therapist, Mr. Laaksonen, focused a lot of their time on assuring Alan that there was nothing wrong with him, that all of his feelings and responses to the world around him were normal for someone in his situation. Alan’s fears, coupled with his still seeing the Shadow figures of the Dark Place, his new shyness and awkwardness in social situations, made for a lot of baggage. How was the writer supposed to move on?
He doesn’t dwell too much on it when he enters the diner, digging in his pockets for some cash before making his way to the counter. Alan had known Rose Marigold for an entire decade now. When the author had met her for the first time, they had gotten off to a rocky start, but after her engagement with the Dark Presence and her helping with Saga’s mission to defeat Scratch, Alan had found something new. Still, Alan was afraid to get close to people now. The void Alice left inside of him was gaping, the loneliness still torturing him in the night. The nightmares that had once gone away are back now, haunting him and forcing him awake in the early hours of the morning that leave him gasping for air, tears in his eyes and that same aching feeling in his chest. The bile in his throat is ever-present when he remembers the truth, and how Alan had sacrificed himself to the Dark Presence in retaliation, so tired of fighting the same fight. Some days he’s still not sure if he’s happy he’s alive. Today is a good day for him, though. He’s gotten out of bed, gone to therapy, and scrounged up enough cash for dinner tonight.
Rose smiles when he approaches, eternally chipper and bubbling with excitement. She’s always been this way, even more-so now that Alan lives in the same town she does. She doesn’t pry on his personal life, and still keeps her fan-site active with new conversations about his novels from the early 2000’s. The waitress is content with this, and is content with keeping Wake’s low-key Bright Falls existence a secret. They’re friends now, and Alan deals with the obsession and interest with grace; questions answered and time spent together. They sit together while he drinks his coffee and he talks to her about the Casey novels and his childhood. Happier times, before 2010. His first published story, his thought process, his inspirations. He finds himself liking her more as the weeks wear on.
“What’ll it be today, Mr. Wake? The usual?” Rose smiles even brighter still, her eyes shining and face beaming. It’s almost infectious. “Please, Rose. Thank you.” Alan mutters, sliding into a chair at the bar. Alan Wake isn’t a social outcast by any means - locals will greet him and smile at him, but there is still a separation there. He feels unworthy, and most days hates knowing that they can look at him and could possibly see Scratch instead. It’s hard to look in the mirror. “Here you go. Nice and hot, for my favorite customer.” Rose sing-songs as she slides the mug of coffee in front of the writer. “How was it today? Not too bad?” She cares, and that’s enough. Alan knows she would understand, and he’s not afraid to talk to her about his feelings. She listens. She cares. “Well, I’m here. Ran some errands. Thought I’d come by and see you for a bit.” The writer sounds meager now, not at all cocky like how he used to be. He’s sweet. Humble. Changed. Different. Not like himself. If his comment flusters her, she barely shows it, save for the bright blush that invades her cheeks like a disease. “That’s good. Remember, if you need someone to talk to, you have my number.” Rose reminds him, and Alan smiles. Most days, it’s forced, but it’s genuine now, the soft twinge of warmth inside him. “Thank you, Rose. I’ll remember that.”
He wonders if she still has that shrine above her bed.