[ That went. Poorly. He clearly only upset Harold further. He's not used to Harold being so emotional like this, he doesn't know what to do. But Harold leaves without further comment and John is left at the table with barely touched plates in front of him. So he does the only thing there is to do and takes the plates away, puts the pasta in their respective leftover containers, puts the remaining pasta in a third, puts them all in the fridge. And then he just stands in the quiet kitchen, feeling the emptiness of the space. He'd been so happy to come back, and now he doesn't know how to reach Harold. Now Harold is so far away.
It's tempting to go for the bottle, he doesn't think Harold would come out now to stop him, but he pulls back from that at the last moment, changes into exercise clothes, and calls Bear for a run instead. He wanders around Etraya, thinking how even though it was recently rearranged that it seems familiar. He tries not to think about Harold, tries to push himself harder instead, tries to think about his feet on the ground, about Bear happily racing along beside him. It doesn't work particularly well, and when he gets back to the library the liquor cabinet still is tempting. He showers, makes himself to go bed, and after too long of staring in the dark he finally falls asleep.
Waking up is unexpected. He's disoriented for a while, unsure of where he is, what's happening. And finally he realizes that he's back in Etraya. He died, and he's back in Etraya. He's wearing the same clothes he fell asleep in years ago, only he never remembered. John pulls his shirt off and feels the healed over scars of the bullet wounds he suffered what feels like moments ago. Yes, he was on that rooftop with the Machine, yes, he died. And Harold lived. And Harold lived. John was always meant to die, always living on borrowed time, and when he died it was finally the best death he could ask for. He died for the thing that means the most, not just to him, but to the world, even if they don't know it.
He dresses easily in familiar clothes and leaves his room, only to be stunned by the room he walks into. It's different, in a way, they've changed it, but it's still the library. Some emotion he's not sure of swells in his chest at the sight. He missed the library, those simple early days, and now he gets to have it again. It feels surreal. He just stands there, taking it all in.
And there's Harold. There's Harold, sitting with his tea, and John can't help but break into a smile again. Not the quiet, accepting, satisfied one he gave on the rooftop, but one of joy. Harold in the library. Harold alive. He doesn't even have the words to express how he feels about that, the hope and wonder he feels. ]
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It's tempting to go for the bottle, he doesn't think Harold would come out now to stop him, but he pulls back from that at the last moment, changes into exercise clothes, and calls Bear for a run instead. He wanders around Etraya, thinking how even though it was recently rearranged that it seems familiar. He tries not to think about Harold, tries to push himself harder instead, tries to think about his feet on the ground, about Bear happily racing along beside him. It doesn't work particularly well, and when he gets back to the library the liquor cabinet still is tempting. He showers, makes himself to go bed, and after too long of staring in the dark he finally falls asleep.
Waking up is unexpected. He's disoriented for a while, unsure of where he is, what's happening. And finally he realizes that he's back in Etraya. He died, and he's back in Etraya. He's wearing the same clothes he fell asleep in years ago, only he never remembered. John pulls his shirt off and feels the healed over scars of the bullet wounds he suffered what feels like moments ago. Yes, he was on that rooftop with the Machine, yes, he died. And Harold lived. And Harold lived. John was always meant to die, always living on borrowed time, and when he died it was finally the best death he could ask for. He died for the thing that means the most, not just to him, but to the world, even if they don't know it.
He dresses easily in familiar clothes and leaves his room, only to be stunned by the room he walks into. It's different, in a way, they've changed it, but it's still the library. Some emotion he's not sure of swells in his chest at the sight. He missed the library, those simple early days, and now he gets to have it again. It feels surreal. He just stands there, taking it all in.
And there's Harold. There's Harold, sitting with his tea, and John can't help but break into a smile again. Not the quiet, accepting, satisfied one he gave on the rooftop, but one of joy. Harold in the library. Harold alive. He doesn't even have the words to express how he feels about that, the hope and wonder he feels. ]