Chapter Text
Rose
“Can you believe this shit, Wake?”
Rose looked up as she heard Scratch’s voice. He was sitting in his usual booth at the diner, his breakfast laid out in front of him. Rose had brought him the same thing every morning for the last five years, along with a copy of the local paper. He had flattened it out in front of him, scowling at it, finger pressed to an article as he read a snippet aloud.
“Alan Wake loses spot of top selling author in Cauldron Lake County.” He snorted, irritated, and dipped his toast into his egg yolks. “It’s like they don’t even appreciate you anymore.”
The waitress approached his table with a small smile and a pot of famous Oh Deer coffee.“More coffee, Mr. Scratch?”
Scratch looked up at her briefly, then pushed his coffee mug towards her end of the table, still grumbling. She carefully poured him another serving, then pulled the creamer and sugar out of her apron pocket for him. Mr. Scratch had a sweet tooth, after all. Rose had even brewed the blonde roast knowing he was coming in.
“Any plans for today?” she asked.
The double gave a shrug, looking around. He didn’t really talk much anymore, but Rose has always been kind to him when others have called him crazy and avoided him. “Lake,” he grunted. “Going to go with Alan.”
The waitress paused. Scratch had gestured to the booth across from him, like he was sharing it with someone, but just like every other day since he’d shown up in Bright Falls, he was alone. This imaginary Alan had started a few years ago now. Rose hesitated for a moment before perching on the end of the bench across from Scratch, setting the coffee down. She was one of the few that actually tried to interact with him these days, and she reached gently across the table to rest her hand over his.
“You know what might be fun? Why don’t you come people-watch with me at Valhalla?” It wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get him to the retirement facility. Sure, he was young for it, but she could see how incredibly lonely he was. “One of the volunteers is going to try to teach square dancing,” she continued, giggling. “It’ll be a good time. And then if you like, you can get a hot shower and some fresh clothes. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Scratch looked at Rose’s hand over his, considering it for a few moments before raising his eyes to hers. There was a moment of recognition, of clarity, and the double set his toast down, swallowing.
“Rose,” he murmured softly, turning his hand to lace his fingers with hers and stroke her hand with his thumb. “You’ve been so kind to me. I don’t deserve it.”
It was moments like these that made Rose all the more dedicated to keeping herself firmly in Mr. Scratch’s life. She squeezed his hand back gently, her voice quiet.
“Everyone deserves some kindness, Mr. Scratch.”
Scratch let out a shaky breath, his hands starting to tremble. He pulled his hand back from Rose’s and pushed up to his feet, clearing his throat. “Thank you for breakfast,” he said, avoiding her eyes now. “I need to go.”
She didn’t try to stop him, just gave him a cheerful “see you tomorrow!” and watched him leave. Once he was out of sight, she let out a long sigh and rubbed at her temples. It was good, she supposed, that she got a moment of clarity out of him. Those were becoming more and more rare with each passing day.
It had been a strange day when Mr. Scratch had returned to Bright Falls. Rose remembered it well, despite it being nearly five years ago now. He had burst into the diner and sat down in the same booth he had been in today. At first, she had thought he was Alan, and she had come to his table to greet him.
Before Rose could even speak, the man who looked like Alan Wake had grabbed her wrist. She was startled, ready to fight, but then she’d seen those eyes, a deep beautiful blue, and brimming with tears. They were the same as Alan’s, but somehow she knew it wasn’t him.
The initial reaction was fear, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the need to comfort, and Rose sank down into a crouch beside him. “Coffee?” she asked softly.
He nodded, swallowing hard, and released her wrist.
She returned quickly with a pot of coffee, two mugs, and plenty of sweetener and creamer. Rose filled both mugs and pushed one to the man, while sitting down across from him and starting to mix in her ideal coffee. He dumped in all the sweetener and creamer that she hadn’t used, then sipped miserably at his coffee. Rose watched him, curious and thoughtful.
“You aren’t Alan,” she said finally. “You’re…the other one.”
The man gave a weak chuckle, nodding. “Scratch,” he mumbled hoarsely. He set his coffee down, pushed it around. “You’re Rose.”
She smiled, pleased that he remembered, and nodded. “What are you doing back here? Bright Falls doesn’t exactly seem like something… well, your speed.”
Scratch was quiet for a long moment, picking up his coffee and taking another slow sip. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he said finally. “The lake is the closest thing I have to a home.”
Rose studied him quietly. It was sort of funny, how she knew just about everything about Alan (or so she believed, anyway), but very little about his counterpart. Certainly, she had written that embarrassing fanfiction with him in it several years ago, but it had mostly been guesses. Imagining a handsome but deadly stranger in a leather jacket… Seeing the man in front of her now, she would never guess they were the same person.
“Did something happen with Alan?” Rose asked quietly.
Scratch stiffened, his hands tightening around his coffee mug. He took in a shaky breath, swallowing hard.
“He chose Alice,” he said bitterly. “Years of… fighting my own nature for him. Trying to be better for him. He talked like we would have a future. But the second she comes back, it was just… gone. Like there was never anything there in the first place.”
He took another sip of his coffee, wiping at his eyes frustratedly. “I-I could see it. I just… I looked at him, and I knew. He never… he never did love me like he loved her.”
Rose listened quietly, head tilted a little as she took it in. Certainly, Scratch’s attachment and obsession with Alan had been obvious even to the casual observer, and they hadn’t been in Bright Falls long after escaping Cauldron Lake.
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly, not sure what else to offer.
Scratch was trembling, angrily wiping at his eyes again as another tear slipped down his cheek. “It was my fault,” he muttered, hurt clear in his voice. “I should have known. Why the fuck would he want me? I’m just a monster. Alice is a fucking angel. I could never have even hoped to compete, it was so stupid...”
Rose wanted to interrupt there, assure him that he was more than that, but Scratch wasn’t done yet.
“But sometimes, he’d look at me, you know, and I’d see it for a second.” He was gripping his coffee mug tightly, knuckles starting to go white. “Sometimes he… he saw me like a person. And he cared. But it’d never be enough.”
The doppelganger was falling apart in front of Rose, and she wanted to stop it, make him feel better, but any words of comfort she had to offer just seemed so inadequate to help this poor broken shadow.
“I thought about killing her, you know,” Scratch murmured. “Alice. Hide her body somewhere he’d never find her. He’d never know. And maybe he would come back to me, and I’d be there with open arms to comfort him.” He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “What difference does that make? It’s all just a fucking fantasy, Alan Wake wanting me. God, I’m such an idiot…”
Rose didn’t know what to say. Instead, she stood up from the booth across from Scratch, taking a few steps forward to sit down close beside him. He stared at her with wide, confused eyes still filled with tears, and she gave him a small smile before wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.
At first, Scratch didn’t move, he just stayed there, stiff and uncomfortable, surprised by the gesture and trying to appraise how he felt about it. Then it happened all at once, like an avalanche, his walls crumbling down as he suddenly clutched back at her.
He had cried into her shoulder for a long time, Rose remembered. His sobs had been so pathetic, soft and whimpering, like he was afraid to be too loud. She had held him quietly, just stroking through his messy hair and murmuring soft platitudes to him like a mother to their child. She had felt so helpless then.
It hadn’t changed much since then. Scratch had become a ghost of his former self, slipping into hallucinations and wild, violent tempers. Though it had upset her to do it, Rose had to ask Tim to lock him up on more than one occasion when he was too aggressive for her to handle. Scratch had always found a way to apologize to her, even if he didn’t seem to remember the fit itself. Flowers on her doorstep, clumsily woven into a crown. A sketch of her, done in borrowed crayon on the diner’s menu. Once, he’d even presented her with a wool scarf, bright pink. ”Your favorite color”, he had said. She didn’t dare ask where he got it from. She didn’t want to know.
What worried her more than anything was that he was living alone in the woods now, presumably. It was starting to get cold, and she was afraid he would freeze or starve out there. He might fall and hurt himself, or get too confused to wander back into town. But every attempt to get him to move to Valhalla was rejected, and he wouldn’t stay in her trailer for more than a night or two.
Rose drummed her fingers on the countertop, thinking. She needed to do something or Scratch was only going to keep getting worse. Finally coming to a decision, she set out the “be right back! :)” sign on the countertop and went out the back door of the diner.
It had taken almost a year to finally get a hold of Alan Wake’s phone number, and once she had it, she found she was afraid to call him. It had been so long. Would he remember her? Those old memories of the man she had obsessed over for years resurfaced, and Rose cringed. She’d been exactly the type of fan he had tried to avoid. While her interest in his books had remained, Rose had managed to move on from stalking the writer himself and trying to learn every little detail she could. It was probably Scratch that had helped her with that, she realized. He’d shifted her focus, redirected her efforts, and it was for the better.
Shaking her head, Rose forced herself to refocus again, tapping her phone so the screen wouldn’t go dark. Alan’s contact number was there on the screen, just waiting for her to touch it. She hesitated.
And then she thought again of Scratch. He needed her.
Taking a deep breath, Rose steeled herself and hit “call”.