That Part Chapter 30: Confrontation

This is a Skyrim/Alan Wake 2 fic. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

This chapter has been edited due to content. If you want to see the unedited version GO HERE.

ALEX

Alan Wake was still at the table. His head was in his hands. Jash was using his tail as a way to not have to waste energy standing. I was standing as, while I was more relaxed after ******* my husband, I wasn’t yet relaxed enough to sit.

Especially not in front of Alan if I didn’t have to.

Saga was currently chasing leads in Watery, a nearby town, so Jash and I were playing babysitter. All we had to do was make sure the writer didn’t cause harm to himself or others. Hopefully he did something and I could show Saga that I hadn’t been overreacting before.

I looked at Jash who let out an exaggerated sigh and made a show of making coffee. He wouldn’t come back until I had let out all my anger at Alan. My eyes met the writer’s and I knew that now was the time to not hold back.

“You dare sit here looking like the most pathetic piece of ****!” I yelled and Alan looked at me. “You know how many people you killed back in New York with your Cult of the Word back in 2013? Do you know how many memories I can’t drink my way past?”

To his credit, Alan remained calm but I could tell I was getting to him. He moved just a little too much. His eyes moved away from mine a little too often.

“And you know what the worst part is?” I asked. “You had your little cult send me your manuscripts and your little foreign film Nightless Night. Or did Thomas Zane make that one?”

I held back a shiver at the memory of that movie. Somehow Alan had filmed me getting murdered without me remembering any of it. But should it really have surprised me that the man who had controlled my whole life could erase my memory?

“You controlled me my whole life, you prick.” I said as I stopped my body from reacting more than it was. “****, you probably created me for your sick fantasies. You liked seeing my life torn away from me. The only part of my life you didn’t touch was Jash. After I’m through with your ********, I’m going to Skyrim and marrying him.”

I was able to think clearly for a moment and worried that I went too far. Alan might not even be the monster I thought he was. He might have just been an innocent man that had been horribly tortured for thirteen years.

Alan looked at me with eyes ridden with guilt but he didn’t break my gaze this time. He held my glare more steady than most people had. If Saga and I had to do a ‘good cop bad cop’ routine I could only be the latter. I just didn’t have the face to look happy.

Though there was a rare picture of me smiling that Saga kept.

“I can’t create people.” Alan said. “I can’t make someone do something they wouldn’t normally do.”

“Really?” I asked with a drawl.

“That wouldn’t make a good story.”

“You care about what? Being a good writer when you can make reality your *****?”

This was his argument? How could he expect me to believe that he cared about writing well when he could make me do whatever he wanted? Why did I believe him?

“My ‘powers’ don’t work if I write a story that isn’t true.” Alan snapped. “Do you think I wanted to be in the Dark Place for what felt like an eternity? Why wouldn’t I have written Alice and myself a happily ever after thirteen years ago?”

I nearly blurted out that I believed him. That he would have much rather Alice be alive and happy with him instead of dead by her own hands. But I kept my mouth shut.

“I know how harmful my writing can be, Alex.” Alan admitted. “Especially in the Dark Place. When I write there it’s different than when I wrote my Al-novels. I could observe you but I couldn’t do much else. At least that’s my current theory. It’s not like I tried to do anything-is your wife dead?”

“Dead to me.” I said. “But she’s still alive.”

“Good. I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Or you ruined my marriage.”

“So you stopped writing?” Jash yelled from the other end of the room.

“Oh, yeah. I tried to stop writing just so no one else would get hurt.” Alan said as he jumped a little in his chair.

“But you obviously continued. Don’t tell me you were trying to save someone.” I replied, embarrassed that Jash had had to yell to get us from going off on a tangent.

“The Dark Presence can manipulate whoever it wants. It made sure that I continued to write even when I couldn’t remember doing so.”

“So you had to decide who would be in control of your books. You or it.”

“Yes.”

Alan had gained my trust. I could tell that he was being honest no matter the insane **** that left his lips. Jash was real so why would it be so impossible to believe the writer?

Someone that ran a murder cult wouldn’t be so selfless as to try to remove himself from his story. A cult leader would be narcissistic and so backing away from the spotlight wouldn’t be a possibility. Alan didn’t have the demeanor of a cult leader.

It helped that Alan had told me that he didn’t create me and lacked the ability to control my life. If he had done anything to me it had been my decision. And since he hadn’t known I was real, he didn’t ruin anything in my life that I wouldn’t have destroyed already.

My life was a pile of **** because of me. Not him.

“In the Dark Place I saw the Cult of the Word.” Alan said and made a show of looking out the window. “Or at least a version of it. It was like I was writing an Ale-one of my novels. I killed people all for a **** story. Or maybe I didn’t have anything to do with that cult. I hope it was just me writing what Mr. Scratch already had done.”

“Oh **** off, Alan.” I snapped in a softer tone than I would’ve used just days ago. “You’ve already convinced me of your **** innocence. I’ve dealt with cult leaders and studied them. Trust me, you’re no cult leader. You can stop convincing me.”

Alan and I turned to see Jash holding a warm cup of coffee. My husband drank it and seemed to savor each drop. He stood beside me and looked at Alan. What did he see in the writer?

“As someone with a great power of my own, it is not ours to reprimand someone who is still learning.” Jash said. “But with your good heart, friends, and skills there is hope.”

“What if I did have a hand in the Cult of the Word?” Alan asked.

“Haven’t your skills improved? I assume they have and if there was another cult that you would be conscious of your every action. And I agree with my love that you do not have it in you to be a cult leader.”