Work Text:
Alice Wake stared up at the motel number. In that moment, it occurred to her how odd it was that the Oceanview referred to itself as a “motel”. The inside looked to her like one of the nicer, albeit older hotels in Manhattan. Luxurious, extravagant, it even had a rooftop bar. Then again, not much about the motel made sense. She was shocked that she was even able to get where she wanted to be, considering how hard it was to get inside. Despite the difficulties, there she was, right in front of the door. Marked above the door frame: the room number “665”. The woman on the phone, whoever she was, had told her to come here. Alice had learned having somewhere to go in the Dark Place was always better than aimless wandering.
She held her hand up to knock and hesitated. This could easily be a trap, the Dark Place- her double - trying to fuck with her. She leaned her ear up against the door. As she pressed her ear to the door, she could hear music playing faintly. And above that, speaking. A voice from inside the room, louder than the mutters of the Taken. There was someone inside. Someone alive.
Alice sighed. Thank Christ, she thought as she straightened up and gave a knock. No response. She knocked again. “Hello!” she called into the door, “Can you hear me in there?” Still nothing. Great, she thought, I finally find someone who isn’t dead and they can’t even hear me. She sighed as her eyes drifted down to the knob. Worth a shot. She grabbed the doorknob and gave it a twist. To her shock, the door opened easily and she practically fell inside the room.
Past the threshold of the doorway, she could hear the music clearer now. It was an old rock song that sounded like it was playing on a phonograph somewhere. Nothing that Alice recognized. The hotel room was dark and smokey, yet strangely warm and inviting. Almost familiar. And in the center of the living room stood her mystery speaker. She was turned away from the door, luxurious dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Her clothes were dark and gauzy, fabric flowed with her wild gesticulations as she spoke. A long layered black skirt swirled around her as she moved.
“-kaikki tunnonvaivat,
Kaikki kalmat kauhistavat,
Kaikki kauhiat olennot,
Kaikki hiijet hirmuiltavat.
Kaikki kummat kulkekaatten,
Ehätystäin estämään! ”
What is that...Swedish? Finnish? Alice wondered. She didn’t know the context or the play, but the emotion with which she spoke the lines was unhinged, deranged as she reached a crescendo. The woman eased back as she continued, her head sinking down.
“Luven tehyksi teoksi,
Laitetuksi laitokseksi;
Mink oun miettinnä hyväksi
Kanssa kahtonna paraaksi,
Otolliseks onnelleni.”
The words were spoken with a dark resolve. She was silent there for a moment, her head and arms limply hanging down. Lazily, she picked her head back up and tossed a look over her shoulder. A pair of steely blue eyes met Alice’s. The woman finally spoke, “That was a hold for applause…” Alice realized she had been holding her breath for the performance and gasped in a gulp of air. “Sorry I-..sorry you’ll have to excuse me I was just-”
Alice’s apology was interrupted by a fond smile from the woman as she turned completely around and approached. “Oh come on, you know your apologies are no good here. Besides, I was just warming up. I had to, knowing you were coming.” She reached Alice, grinning at her face-to-face. She quickly pecked Alice’s cheek before wrapping the woman in a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you here again, Alice.”
Alice stiffened immediately. Admittedly, the Dark Place is not a great place for receiving hugs and she hadn’t had one in a bit. It wasn’t a completely unwelcome sensation. However, the question remained: who the hell was the woman embracing her? As the woman released the hug, she held Alice’s upper arms and she studied her expression. The woman’s dark brow furrowed, “Right. Your memory is having problems again,” she murmured. The grin returned to her face as she patted Alice’s cheek. “Let me go fix you a drink then” She completely released Alice, making her way over to a bottle and a set of glasses on a nearby table.
“Right…memory problems..” Alice confirmed, still trying to process that interaction, “We spoke on the phone, right? The payphone outside? I’m sorry but you’ll need to reintroduce yourself.” This was embarrassing. This woman was clearly an ally to her somehow and Alice had no idea who she was. The woman seemed unbothered as she turned back to Alice. “My name is Barbara Jagger,” she said, offering a little bow. Alice felt lightbulbs go off in her head. Nothing about her time here, her time in the Dark Place but-
“Your name…we read about you in Bright Falls! You..I remember you won a bunch of local pageants I think. They said you drowned in the lake.” Alice was just excited to remember something, anything. Despite Alice’s enthusiasm, Barbara scoffed. “Well I would hope you would remember more about me than gossip and my pretty face, Alice,” She said with mock scorn as she poured drinks, “I’m a film actress by trade. Although you know what they say about rumors…” She picked up the glasses, walking over to a fine leather couch and setting them down on the coffee table in front of her. She sat, folding one leg over another. There was a daring glint in her eye as she looked at Alice. “They’re usually true..”
Alice walked over to the couch and sat next to Barbara. Barbara picked up her drink and tipped it toward her. Obediently, Alice did the same. “Kippis.” Barbara said casually, taking a sip of the dark liquid. Alice looked down in her cup. She didn't drink much. It only took a few poor, drunken encounters with your husband to put you off the idea. She raised the glass, sniffing it. The sweet smell of whiskey met her nose. A little intense, but it’s not like she was doing any driving anytime soon. She held it to her lips to take a sip as Barbara started talking.
“Alice. You and I have been collaborating for some time now. Your camera, my modeling. Two artists, pushing the boundaries of where our mediums can take us,” As she spoke, a faraway mania crept into her eyes, “The voyeur and the muse. Crafting one masterpiece after the next. Shaping our reality through your lens!” She leaned toward Alice, pupils blown wide, a wild grin on her face, “Executing our vision to consummate perfection. Here! In this room.”
As the drink slid down Alice’s throat, Barbara’s words echoed in her ears. This room… She looked around. Suddenly, a tidal wave of memory crashed against the shore of her mind. This room. She had been here. Many, many times. Here with Barbara. How long was she staying here at a time? The memories skipped through her mind in camera flashes. Blurred visions. She saw herself creating the art that Barbara described. This Alice worked with laser focus, directing Barbara. Barbara in turn served as subject, offering the occasional note or suggestion. The setups were wild, disorganized, dangerous, experimental, inspired. It wasn't anything like what Alice had ever worked with before. She saw her bare hand lifting a candle to light her scene, wax melting down her fingers. Herself standing outside the motel pointing her lens up at Barbara’s lit room. Snippets of conversation echoed in her mind, the both of them sprawled out on the floor. “And that…that bitch! Thought she had a chance with him. Can you believe it? Hah! Huora… Alice heard her own slurred voice in response, Sounds like a reeeal piece of work. A cackle from Barbara in return. Here there was certainly drinking involved, certainly more than drinking involved. Every scene in this carousel of memories was insane, out of character. Her mind lingered on a final image. Barbara precariously half hanging out a window, hair billowing in the night breeze. She sat on the windowsill, teetering on the precipice between the comfortable room and the void below. Her only support, only lifeline between the window and the cold pavement, was her grip on Alice’s right hand while her left held the camera pointed down at her. Hold still…hold still…almost got it.
“And that is how the magic happens.” Barbara finished proudly as Alice came back to reality. Her ears were ringing. She felt dizzy as she hurriedly put the drink down, spilling it. She buried her face in her hands with a groan, “Ohhhh god.” Barbara gasped, “You do remember!” Alice wondered how Barbara was able to glean that from her body language. Alice attempted to steady her breathing, ground herself. She couldn’t even begin to unpack everything she had just remembered. When did any of this happen and why didn’t she remember before now? Just as confusing as the when was the what. Was she really losing control like this? Or was Barbara just a hard woman to say no to?
As she considered the knotted web of memories thrust upon her, Alice felt Barbara lean in closer. “Oh Alice, this is so exciting. You’re remembering things. That’s good. That’s progress. We can continue our work. We don’t have to start back at square one!” Alice picked her face up from her hands and looked at Barbara with an expression of unfiltered bewilderment. “Barbara…what the hell have we been doing here?” She asked. Barbara seemed unfazed, shrugging as she took another drink, “What else is there to do here? We’ve been creating. Masterfully might I add.” She gave Alice a wink, which did not break Alice’s expression of confusion and shock in the slightest.
“Yeah, I’ve..gathered that. But why? Why here? Why-“ Alice cut herself off, rubbing her temples. Too many questions, too little time. Doubtful there would be much explanation. There never was. Barbara slipped an arm around her, drawing her closer. She didn’t seem much for personal space, not that Alice minded. She hadn’t known a friendly touch in quite a bit and being here with Barbara felt safe. At least safer than out there.
“Alice, our mediums blend so perfectly together,” she purred close to Alice’s face, trying to be comforting, “It’s the ideal partnership. Your creative spirit was acting in your own self-interest.” Part of Alice thought Barbara wasn’t entirely wrong. A sort of artistic symbiotic relationship didn’t sound all bad. She shook her head. “Right but..the reason I’ve been taking pictures here at all is to try to get out. To try to find my husband? Alan?”
Alice felt Barbara twitch at the name. She drew back her arm, resting her hands on her knees. “Right. And I’ve been trying to help you with that obviously,” she responded, curtly. Alice looked over at the other woman, whose expression seemed to have soured. Had she touched a nerve? Barbara continued, “The art, the work, it’s our key to the locked door that keeps us in here. Your pictures, they have the potential to help us escape.” Alice wondered what anything she just remembered had to do with escape. “Well,” Alice asked, shifting her gaze to the sad puddle her spilled glass was now forming on the table, “have we at least made any progress?”
Barbara lit up at this, “Oh yes. Very much so. Alice, your experimentation has been completely inspiring. You’ve improved so much!” She swirled her drink idly. “Of course, the memory issues have set us back a few times, but your art has stayed incredibly strong.” Alice pinched between her eyes, sensing she was being talked in circles. “No, Barbara, I mean progress on escaping. Have we gotten any closer to getting out? The key to the door or whatever it was you said?” Barbara shut her mouth at that, looking away. She was clearly choosing her words carefully.
“The…development of your technique is progress.” She said, seemingly satisfied with how vague that was. Alice sighed.
“Well, I think I’m running out of time for experimentation. I need answers. Alan...I made it to Parliament Tower. I found these..manuscript pages. I think he might be in trouble.” Alan’s words drifted through her mind, violent descriptions of being stalked, haunted in the dark. She clenched her jaw. Don’t let yourself get caught up. Keep moving.
“Your husband is safe,” Barbara assured, putting a hand on Alice’s shoulder, “We’ve had this conversation before. He’s in the real New York, safe and sound. You always do this. Make it about him. This, all this, is about you.”
“That’s not very encouraging.”
“It is what you make of it, Alice,” she said with a smile. Alice gritted her teeth. Right. This is going nowhere. The respite was nice, but something about the vagaries, the endless flattery, Barbara was filling her with dread. The longer she stayed here, the worse it got. She finally stood, shedding Barbara’s comforting touch. “Look I appreciate your help, really, and I’d really like to help you too, I just- I think I need to keep moving.”
“ Alice ,” Barbara’s voice sounded much firmer now as she grabbed Alice’s wrist. Her easygoing expression had vanished from her face, replaced with a stern look as Alice looked back at her. Catching the other woman’s unease at the sudden change in demeanor, Barbara corrected herself, smoothly moving to hold Alice’s hand in both of hers with a saccharine smile. “You’re spiraling. Slow down, the outside isn’t going anywhere! Whatever you’re investigating will still be there when we’re done. Rest. Here, I’ll go fix you another drink and we c-”
“No.” Barbara’s eyes flashed with offense as Alice cut her off. “I’m sorry but…I have questions I need answers to. And I don’t think the answers are here.” She watched Barbara’s face fall as she turned and started for the door. Alice heard the other woman stand, quickly stepping to follow her.
Barbara’s voice was desperate. “Alice, wait. Please don’t leave. We can help each other!” Alice stepped through the door, still open from her entrance. Barbara continued, “You need me. And I need-!”
Her last word was cut off as Alice shut the door behind her, right in Barbara’s face. She cringed. Was that too much? Holding her breath, she held her ear to the door once more. The music was gone, had the record ended while she was in there? Alice hadn’t noticed. The room behind the door was eerily, oppressively quiet. Alice rose, a shiver crawling up her spine. Whatever sinking feeling she had inside Room 665, the feeling after blowing Barbara off was worse.
But,
Alice thought,
I can’t stay in there taking pictures of her forever.
She had to remember that. Nothing here, not even the small flashes of comfort, was real. Her home was. Her husband was. Her hands found the camera, still faithfully hanging around her neck. The key to her escape was out there in the dark. And Alice Wake was done hiding from it.