sameforme | [intro]

[intro]

Fuck South Dakota.

And fuck Gordon for dragging her here. She was done with all of this, she's been done with it for years. More than years. A fucking lifetime.

Diane drains the last of the vodka from the glass and waits for the bartender to fill it up again. She's been hard at it since she woke up this morning, but it's not like there's much else for her to be doing while the others are up to god knows what and she's left in this shitty hotel staring at cowboy kitsch and waiting to be needed again.

She sighs heavily and takes a sip from her newly topped up glass, tapping her fingernails along the rim.

Sleep hasn't exactly been easy to come by since Gordon and Albert dragged her along on this fucked up field trip. Not since she saw...him. Her brain recoils from the memory and she feels the nauseatingly familiar ice in her veins. All she wants to do is go home and forget it all, but part of her knows how unlikely it is that that will ever happen. That tiny, annoying part of her that never lets her completely delude herself no matter how hard she tries to drown it.

Finishing her drink again, she pushes the glass away and stands up for the first time in what feels like hours. She sways just a bit on her feet and realizes she's probably been at this for longer than she thought.

Checking her phone she sees it. 2:53.

"Jesus," she says under her breath. Definitely longer than she thought. Time for a little fresh air.

She nods at the bartender and grabs her purse, making her way to the bar exit that leads directly out onto the street. She's in absolutely no mood to be dealing with the hotel lobby and the possibility she might run into one of her FBI keepers.

Pushing the door open, she stumbles slightly on the small step down to the sidewalk and drops her pack of cigarettes. When she looks down to retrieve them she sees...sand?

It crunches under her feet as she turns around to find the bar gone. The hotel gone. Her breath comes hard and fast and she begins to shake uncontrollably, her knuckles gone white from her grip on her purse.

"No." She shakes her head and backs away from the spot where the door she'd just exited should have been. "No fucking way. No. Not again. I'm not doing this again."

Diane squeezes her eyes shut and tries to clear her head but it's like all the alarms in the world are going off at once and it would be impossible to think past the noise even if she wasn't completely losing her shit. Even if she was a lot more sober.

With a sob she drops down like her strings have been cut, ass landing hard in the sand next to the cigarettes she'd momentarily forgotten about. She taps one into her violently shaking hand and it takes a few tries before she can manage to get the lighter working, but the first drag helps. Mildly. So she just sits there, smoking, staring out into nothing because what the hell else was she supposed to do. Because she should have known this was how it would end the minute they showed up in her fucking living room asking her to remember all the things she'd never wanted to remember and pulling her right back into all their bullshit. She should have said she wouldn't go. She should have done a lot of things.

"Fuck."

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"Keystone Earth calls it Heaven, I believe, though they also call it Hell. It is the beginning and end of all things," he replied. She stopped and he turned to look at her. Shaking. Scared.

Roland was not built for comfort.

Heaven and Hell. Beginning and End. Dark and Light. The White Lodge...and the Black. Isn’t that what Cooper had talked about all those years ago? Isn’t that what has destroyed everything? Her thoughts drift to that place in her mind she can never touch and flinch away again just as quickly.

She wraps her arms tightly around herself like she’s done a million times before and breathes. Slowly. In and out.

“Diane,” she says finally. “My name is Diane.”

"And I am Roland," he replied, ushering her into the kitchen. He set about making coffee, now that he knew how to use the machine.

"You are welcome here, Diane. And safe, such as I can tell. In my days here, little has happened. There is little use for a Gunslinger."

She sat down heavily and placed her purse on the table. Her hands still shook when she laid them flat but she was good at ignoring that. Years of practice. She wasn't quite as good at ignoring the sense of complete unreality, but she thinks she should have been by now. She's seen enough ridiculous shit at this point. It should be easier.

"A gunslinger? I keep asking if you're serious, but you are, aren't you. You are totally serious." She shakes her head. Rolls her eyes. "Fucking Blue Rose. I'll never get away from it."

She doesn't expect him to understand what she's talking about, but considering the crazy shit he's been saying, she figures it's only fair. "Are you an alien? Is that it? Tell me you're an alien."

"I don't know what alien means," he replied. "But yes. I am serious. It can be disorienting, the first time you cross worlds. This is just as real as what you knew before."

The coffee pot gurgled and hissed, the carafe filling with a steady stream.

"Once you have settled, I will leave you to explore. I must continue my search in the woods before it gets dark."

"Alien. Like not human. From another planet. You know." Or maybe not. Maybe he really has no idea what she's on about. Or maybe she's actually dead and this is some kind of fucked up afterlife. Or maybe...

The smell of the coffee does a lot to settle her nerves. At least to the point where she doesn't feel like she's about to shake right out of her skin anymore.

"And also? Hell no. You're not leaving me here. You're the only connection I've got to...well, anything. If you want to go check out the creepy woods, I'm coming with you. Maybe you'll find a door back to the real world and if you do? I sure as shit am not gonna be sitting here while you walk through it."

"If you are to come you will need more functional clothes," he said. Roland knew he wouldn't shake her, so mat as well be sure she wasn't a hindrance.

"Upstairs is a trove of clothing. You will need a coat, and boots. Warm trousers. I'll not carry you back when you freeze."

She raises an eyebrow at him, but manages to stop herself before she says anything overly rude. He's already agreed to let her stay with him, no need to make him change his mind.

"Yeah, ok. Fine." She sighs and pushes back from the table, a headache starting in the back of her head. Nothing too bad yet, still easy enough to ignore, but she knows from experience it could easily turn into something a lot worse. God she wants a drink. "But if you're not here when I get back, I'll --"

She breaks off, finding herself at a loss for what she could possible threaten him with, and ending at "-- I'll be really pissed."

The clothes were just where he said they would be and she refuses to let herself think at all about why all this stuff is here. Or where here is. Or anything at all, really, except finding something warm, that fits, and isn't too hideous. The coat is easy enough. And the pants. Boots take a little bit longer, but the fact that so much fits is...she's not thinking about that either.

"Good. You didn't leave." She tries to make the words sound nonchalant, but it's probably only partially successful. "Thanks," she adds as an afterthought.

"I would not leave you behind," he replied evenly. He looked her up and down, then gave a nod. "Those are fine clothes for a trek in the forest. Let's set out. It will be dark before long."

Definitely an alien. Or a robot. Diane isn't sure which option would be less disturbing. At least he's easy on the eyes.

"Great." She couldn't sound less like she meant it if she'd been actively trying. "SO, Roland. Do you have a sense of humor ever or is this you all the time?"

She grabs a cigarette from the pack on the table, lighting it and taking a drag before she asks "Mind if I smoke on the way?"

"I have a sense of humor," he replied. "But now is not the time for mirth. There is much work to do."

He lead her back outside, much more tolerable now that she was dressed for the weather. One path lead to the cozy village where one house appeared to be under construction, and several had no light on in them at all. But that was not the path Roland chose. He walked into the forest. It was dark and deep, trees thick with moss and ancient and huge. Conifers and deciduous trees grew side by side, and every so often the path was blocked with the corpse of one of the giants.

Most notably, there was no sound. Not wind in the leaves, no calls of birds, not even the hum of insects. The vast forest swallowed up the sound.

"This is a different place," he said, stopping in a clearing. In the distance he could hear flowing water. "I have not made it this far before."

She sighs and shrugs at his response, finishing her cigarette along the way but not bothering to try and make any more conversation. He doesn't seem to be interested in talking at the moment, which suits her just fine because she's way too unnerved by this entire experience and her thoughts keep spiraling in really uncomfortable directions. The empty houses remind her of...something. Something she can't quite remember and isn't sure she wants to remember.

But the forest. Oh god, the forest is something else altogether. She remembers the way that Cooper sounded when he was in Washington. Talking endlessly about the damn trees like he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life. At least until the Lodge. Until he found whatever it was in those woods that turned him into something she couldn't even recognize.

She's chilled to the bone and it has nothing to do with the temperature.

"How much have you explored already," she asks in a hushed tone. Loud voices would seem wrong somehow in these woods. "Is everywhere this...creepy?"

"So far as I can tell, yes. Creepy," he replied. He stopped to listen and heard everything there was to hear. It amounted to very little.

Until there was a loud woosh. More than wind. He opened his eyes to see a swirling cloud glowing red, shot with black so dark it swallowed the light. It swirled and danced, the coalesced into the form of a man. He had perfect posture, hair yhat brushed his shoulders, and eyes so hard they were inhuman.

"Hello, Diane," it said, low and vaguely threatening.

She sobs once. Loudly. Her hand coming up to cover her mouth and she hates herself for showing that weakness. She's been too weak already. He's made her too weak.

Diane never knew what it was to truly hate someone until that night. And she hates him even more for making her feel that.

"You fucking son of a bitch." The words are forced out through a clenched jaw, sounding fierce and harsh. "I knew this was because of you. I knew you did this. Why can't you let me go?!"

Roland remained calm in the face of it all. He was familiar with this demon. It almost was a comfort, dealing with something he was familiar with.

"It is not him," he said, not needing to know who it was. Seeing Diane shaken was enough to know the demon had chosen a powerful face.

He stepped in front of her, drew both guns, the heavy grips in his hands an extension of his own flesh, it seemed. He aimed not with hand, lest he forget the face of his father. h He aimed with his eye. Bth guns fired at once and the demon exploded from man-shape into the cloud of red and black once again.

She hears the words but they don't register, not when she's face to face with that thing wearing Coop's face like a mask. All she knows is that she can't fight him and she can't run and it's just like it was before because she's so fucking terrified. And she hates herself for her fear because it's what he wants and she just keeps giving it up to him again and again.

Then Roland is moving and the shots are so loud they rattle her bones. It's possible she screams, but she's not really sure because she can't hear anything over the ringing in her ears and she's tripping over herself as she stumbles back away from him. From all of it. Her back hitting a tree the only thing that keeps her from falling to the ground.

It's the grey spots dancing on the edge of her vision that make her realize she's hyperventilating and she's really not sure how to make herself stop. Especially because there is a tiny part of her that thinks it's a pretty reasonable response under the circumstances.

The cloud swirled and roiled, then suddenly vanished and in its place stood a boy. A thin boy off about 11 with dirty blonde hair and a smear of soot on his face.

"Roland," he said. "Roland, why did you let me fall? Why did you let me die?" he asked plaintively.

"You are not Jake, demon," Roland said coldly, firing his gun. The shot hit squarely, and the boy vanished, replaced by a large, regal man. His short cropped black hair was shot with silver and his voice an rumbling bass. "You have forgotten the face of your father, boy..."

Roland released a volley, shot after shot until both barrels were empty. The demon evaporated then.

He paused, watching for it to return, but it did not. He turned to Diane and took her in one arm to hold her tightly.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck....

She doesn't want to be touched and for a minute she thinks she's gonna push him away but then the minute is gone and she still hasn't done it. She can't stand her own weakness and she can't stand to be pitied but maybe that's not what he's doing. Maybe he needs some kind of comfort as much as she does. Maybe.

When she can get enough air to speak, she says "We're dead, aren't we. That's what this is. We're dead and this is how we're gonna be punished."

"If it were only so easy," Roland said. "We are not dead, Diane. This is life, hard as it may be. Fear not. I will not let the demons near you if I can help it," he swore. "Now come, we should see if we can find the river I hear. Water will lead us somewhere, I'm sure."

Way too numb and shocked to argue, she lets him lead her wherever it is he wants to go. She's pretty sure he's wrong, though. No way is this real life. She's lived real life and this sure as shit isn't it. If they aren't dead then either she's having the most vivid nightmare ever, or it's the blue rose. Again. She should have known she could never really escape it.

She grabs his hand with her shaking one and holds on tight. If he doesn't like it, he can obviously pull away, but she grips him hard enough that she really hopes he gets the message and doesn't. He feels warm and real in a way that nothing else in these woods do and she needs that. "How do you know we're not dead, Roland. How can you be positive?"

"If we were dead, there would be a turtle," he replied, serious as the grave. "I do not believe the Crimson King would allow my death so far from the Tower. And you feel quite alive to me," he added, giving her hand a squeeze.

Moments later they broke through the trees to find a river. It was clear and deep, the surface still as could be. The bed of it was hardly dull, instead it glittered with precious gems and gold.

"A turtle."

Her voice sounds as serious as his right up until she starts laughing. But it isn't hysterical or dismissive laughter, at least not this time. She's just...laughing. Partly because of all the things she expected to come out of his mouth that wasn't even within a thousand miles of the list, and partly because it's legitimately one of the most ridiculous things she's ever heard. And she kind of likes it.

"You are completely batshit crazy, you know that right?" She looks at him fondly when she says it, though. Not letting go of his hand. Whatever else she was gonna say is forgotten as soon as she lays eyes on the river. "Whoa."

"There is a fell presence here," he said, pulling her hand to keep her close. His fears were visceral, and not entirely unfounded. The mirror-like surface began to ripple, and up bubbled the form of a woman, easily two meters tall, entirely formed of water.

"Visitors," she bubbled. "Come in. Find your fortune. Riches beyond measure...yours for the taking..."

Roland drew his gun again, aiming at the water spirit.

Maybe she's run out of adrenaline or maybe she's just suffering from too many shocks in too short a period of time, but whatever the reason, Diane has had enough. More than enough.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," she says in a voice that doesn't hold even a hint of the fear she'd been feeling back in the woods when he'd appeared. Now she just sounds finished with it all and more than a little bit annoyed. "You were right, Roland. We're not dead. I refuse to believe the afterlife is this absurd."

She drops his hand when he raises the gun, moving slightly behind his shoulder, close enough that her chest touches his back every time she breathes.

The gun explodes with a puff of smoke. The bullet crashed through the water with a spalsh, but did nothing. The woman only laughed, a bubbling and light sound.

"Puny man, your gun is weak."

Roland realized there was nothing he could do, but it seemed she was limited to the water. He looked at Diane and said simply,

"...Run."

Then with a firm hold on her hand he turned and bolted back into the forest, all but dragging her along.

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