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The concept of light and darkness had always been a part of Alan's life from a very early age.
There was still the scared child within him that was plagued by assaulting shadows birthed from the darkness, so much so that he still carried around a childhood trinket that he'd fidget with when the familiar sense of drowning pushed his insides to the ground.
And yet there was a comfort to the dark, a silence that eased the sharp, noisy pain in his head whenever the light was too overwhelming. Sunglasses were not just a style choice for him, it was a survival mechanism. He grew more nocturnal as he grew older to avoid the constant battle with the sun which ultimately helped him land his job as a night watchman which served not only as great inspiration, but allowed him to meet what every aspiring artist needed.
A muse.
The idea of going to work became less about his job and more about getting those few moments where he'd see her, and suddenly words would spring into his head. He'd jot them down on a notepad in between rounds and camera checks, on week's worth of words added up to more than he had written the year before.
Barry, impressed by this sudden surge of writing, encouraged him to talk to her. Ask her out. Quit being such a creep just looking at her from afar.
It wasn't that easy, their only interactions ever being the socially obligatory polite wave of acknowledgement as he kept a close eye out for their ID cards—she was always with someone.
Well, almost always.
She caught him off guard in more ways one night in particular, which wasn't the first time he had seen her walk in alone, but it was the first time he had gotten some proper night guard action during his routine rounds.
It had been at least an hour and a half, maybe even two since she had walked in. The modestly high end complex she lived in had a winding path through a fancy indoor courtyard that was usually visible from the inner perimeter path he'd take through the brick laid arched halls, brightly illuminated by garden lights and lamp posts.
But that night, all of the lights were off. Not just the courtyard, but even the halls, too. He swore they weren't on his first round. One light seemed to still remain on, stuttering with varying widths of its reach, but as he got closer he heard winding whistle-like sounds and clicks that made him put a cautious hand on his belt as he called out:
"Hey, someone there?"
The flashing stopped for a moment, before it aimed towards him.
"H-hello? I need help!"
Just as quickly as his anger and adrenaline had flared at the possible danger of the situation, his heart melted when his flashlight found her.
He wished he knew her name as he called out, "Are you hurt?"
"N-no..." she blubbered. She was on the ground, clutching her ankle.
"Are you sure about that, Miss...?" he shined his light on her ankle, nothing seemed twisted in the wrong place so at worst, he hoped it was a sprain.
"Alice. I'm Alice. I'm fine, it's just—" she huffed and while she started to get up, he found the source of the flashing. A camera in her hand. He grabbed her arm to help her up to sit on a nearby bench, and she didn't protest, instead focusing on a few deep breaths still laced with hyperventilation. Streams of tears shimmered in the glow of his flashlight.
"Easy now, what happened here?"
"I was heading to my apartment, over and up there," she blindly pointed in all directions, conducting his flashlight until they found where she lived, "and suddenly the...lights went out. I, uhm. I tripped."
She looked down to the rest of her belongings on the ground that she must have dropped when it happened. While he wasn't the detective that seemed to haunt the pages of a budding series, he didn't like the picture this painted. Lights go out, woman gets scared. She panicked, tripped, and was using her camera to try and find her way out of an ocean of darkness.
"I saw you come in earlier...have you been out here since then?"
She laughed humorlessly, with a sheepish admission, "Yeah."
"It's so stupid," she added after a beat, and wiped her face.
"No, no, it's definitely not," he reassured her. He bent down to start gathering her belongings. "C'mon, I'll walk you to your place."
She winced as she stood up, and before he even asked she insisted, "Just need to walk it off."
There were nagging voices battling in his head on what sort of small talk to make, but nothing felt appropriate. He knew the embarrassing feeling of fear all too well, having caught himself flipping the switch in his jacket pocket as they walked up the stairs to her floor.
For a writer, he didn't have many words of comfort to offer.
"Well...this is it. Thank you, uhm...?"
"Alan. Alan Wake. No thanks needed, it's my job," he smiled warmly, but his face fell and he quickly added with blushed cheeks, "And pleasure! It's my pleasure to help."
She gave a half smile before crossing the threshold. He was getting ready to walk away, cursing the small flub when she called back out to him:
"You know, I, uh...I was gonna go back out in an hour or so to meet up with a friend for a drink across the street. If...if the lights aren't back on by then, would you mind...?"
"Of course not. I'll be there."
"Thanks, Alan."
He continued his rounds and called maintenance on the radio to figure out what was going on with the lights. They were trying to determine if it was sabotage by rats or dumbass teenagers, but he didn't appreciate the answer that it wouldn't get fixed until morning.
And more than that, didn't appreciate how that answer wasn't good enough for the fear that Alice experienced—he had half a mind to go on a hunt for the culprit, but the other half had an idea in mind.
She opened the door, half hoping that the lights would have been restored, and half hoping to see the hot security guard again that she had always had a small crush on. She tried to assure herself it was a win-win either way, but she didn't expect to get the best of both worlds.
Alan was already outside, leaning against the railing in a cool, nonchalant fashion though his cheeks were still an adorable shade of red.
Behind him was a colorful lake of light decorating the courtyard, hastily arranged and probably a level of overkill that threatened to cause more damage to the power with the tangled extension cords that were snaked from the main entryway, presumably plugged into any outlet he could find.
"Thought Christmas wasn't for another three months?" Alice smiled as she leaned forward against the rails, marveling at the renewed sense of safety. He turned around to stand with her, though she could feel his gaze more concentrated on herself rather than his decorations.
"It's not, but my patrol does allow me to dip into the basement, and since the lights aren't going to be back on until tomorrow at the earliest, figured I'd improvise. Not that I didn't mind escorting you, of course," another quick, nervous addition though she didn't doubt his sincerity in the slightest. "How's your ankle?"
"All better," she smiled with a playful, rhythmic tapping of the foot in question to the bottom of the railing. "Is that...is that Rudolph?"
Alan laughed and nodded for them to start walking, slower than before.
"Well, he's always the guy to get Santa through the storm so I figured he'd be a good beacon for us, too."
The panicked, frigid air from before had settled into an almost intimate crisp peppered with friendly small talk as they walked towards the entrance, where they parted ways at his office.
"You're really sweet for doing this, Alan. I, uh, wanted to give you this—"
She took out a polaroid from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. It seemed to take him a moment, but a smile spread across his face when he realized what it was.
The best shot she had taken in a while; the lighthouse in the flesh that saved her, captured in a single frame with her phone number underneath.