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Gabriel wouldn't let him watch the tapes.
The nightmares continued, but they no longer held any power over him. They were everything he warned his husband about, everything he tried to keep deep inside, but they didn't matter so much anymore. He would wake enough to feel Arashi's presence, and they drifted away. The memory of Arashi's hand sliding through the chains on his wrists was enough to banish them when they lingered, or when he found his thoughts wandering during the day. It was enough.
He felt better.
Gabriel wouldn't let him watch the tapes and no amount of arguing changed the former hunter's mind. "If you're in them, I'll put them aside," Gabriel said firmly. "You don't need to see the others, John, we've got this."
Gabriel hadn't said what was in those other tapes, but the increasingly haunted look in his eye told Harvestman enough.
"He won't let me watch them either," Charlie said, but when he looked at her she had already turned away, busying herself with the documents they had managed to grab. She didn't want to talk to him, or couldn't, and he didn't know what to do about it. He couldn't force her to have a relationship with him. He couldn't do anything. She was older now than he had been when he died.
He couldn't shake the dread that thought gave him, and tried not to think about it at all.
Harvestman has taken over the kitchen table with liqueurs and a few open books on cocktail mixes, and a notepad with some crossed out names. His fingernails are sloppily painted purple, and he's tapping his phone and frowning. There are already several drinks made, lined up and waiting. Now all he needed was a test subject.
The nightmares continued, but they no longer held any power over him. They were everything he warned his husband about, everything he tried to keep deep inside, but they didn't matter so much anymore. He would wake enough to feel Arashi's presence, and they drifted away. The memory of Arashi's hand sliding through the chains on his wrists was enough to banish them when they lingered, or when he found his thoughts wandering during the day. It was enough.
He felt better.
Gabriel wouldn't let him watch the tapes and no amount of arguing changed the former hunter's mind. "If you're in them, I'll put them aside," Gabriel said firmly. "You don't need to see the others, John, we've got this."
Gabriel hadn't said what was in those other tapes, but the increasingly haunted look in his eye told Harvestman enough.
"He won't let me watch them either," Charlie said, but when he looked at her she had already turned away, busying herself with the documents they had managed to grab. She didn't want to talk to him, or couldn't, and he didn't know what to do about it. He couldn't force her to have a relationship with him. He couldn't do anything. She was older now than he had been when he died.
He couldn't shake the dread that thought gave him, and tried not to think about it at all.
Harvestman has taken over the kitchen table with liqueurs and a few open books on cocktail mixes, and a notepad with some crossed out names. His fingernails are sloppily painted purple, and he's tapping his phone and frowning. There are already several drinks made, lined up and waiting. Now all he needed was a test subject.
