Dreaded Dream
Title: Dreaded Dreams
Fandom: AHS
Characters: Ben, Tate
Rating: PG
Words: 302
Summary: Ghosts have dreams. Apparently.
Warnings: Spoilers for the Murder House finale.
He wakes up in agony; he's been having those dreams again. He's hanging from the ceiling, his body sustained only by the rope that wrapped around his neck like a vicious cobra that didn't let go. He could see the light go out of his eyes, he was watching from somewhere else, from a third person's point of view, looking for the culprit of his demise...
"You okay, Dr. Harmon?" a male voice asks in the dark.
Just great. Tate Langdon, the last person on Earth he wanted to see right now, was looking at him with genuine concern. Or as genuine as concern can look on the face of a psychopath.
"This is stupid. I thought ghosts didn't dream" Ben replies, shoving off the helping hand the boy offers him.
"Apparently, we do" he explains. "I don't understand it very well, though. You should ask Nora."
"Nora's completely lost her mind" he reminds him. "Just leave me alone, will you?"
Ben gets up, settled on looking for his precious wife Viv. She wouldn't have any answers as to why he kept dreaming of the day he was killed in the damn house, but at least she'd give him the comfort he needs right now.
Tate watches him go, remembering his own dreams. He used to dream about the day he died before he could assume the fact that he was dead. Maybe that was what was happening to Dr. Harmon... somehow.
He followed him. It didn't matter if he hated him, or if he called him a psychopath. When he was alive, Ben had been one of the few who did try to help him -at least before he was, you know, dead and stuff- and now it was his turn to give back. At least he owed him that much.
Fandom: AHS
Characters: Ben, Tate
Rating: PG
Words: 302
Summary: Ghosts have dreams. Apparently.
Warnings: Spoilers for the Murder House finale.
He wakes up in agony; he's been having those dreams again. He's hanging from the ceiling, his body sustained only by the rope that wrapped around his neck like a vicious cobra that didn't let go. He could see the light go out of his eyes, he was watching from somewhere else, from a third person's point of view, looking for the culprit of his demise...
"You okay, Dr. Harmon?" a male voice asks in the dark.
Just great. Tate Langdon, the last person on Earth he wanted to see right now, was looking at him with genuine concern. Or as genuine as concern can look on the face of a psychopath.
"This is stupid. I thought ghosts didn't dream" Ben replies, shoving off the helping hand the boy offers him.
"Apparently, we do" he explains. "I don't understand it very well, though. You should ask Nora."
"Nora's completely lost her mind" he reminds him. "Just leave me alone, will you?"
Ben gets up, settled on looking for his precious wife Viv. She wouldn't have any answers as to why he kept dreaming of the day he was killed in the damn house, but at least she'd give him the comfort he needs right now.
Tate watches him go, remembering his own dreams. He used to dream about the day he died before he could assume the fact that he was dead. Maybe that was what was happening to Dr. Harmon... somehow.
He followed him. It didn't matter if he hated him, or if he called him a psychopath. When he was alive, Ben had been one of the few who did try to help him -at least before he was, you know, dead and stuff- and now it was his turn to give back. At least he owed him that much.