Title: Alex Sleep Note #3
Fandom: The Black Tapes
Rating: G
Length: 1k
Pairing: Alex Reagan/Richard Strand
Content notes: none, vague spoilers for s2
Summary: Alex Reagan's electronic paper trail.

I feel as though I should be saying dear diary. I haven't had a diary in twenty years. I have a pile of post-it notes at work, though, that make up something like a work diary. Full of a lot scarier stuff than I used to write in elementary school. I think I mostly talked about my friends and my current truest of true loves. I'm trying to remember his name—maybe we can connect it to some Freudian thing at my next appointment—but I'm coming up blank.

It was a pretty good day. There's a lake not too far from here. I didn't see any bears on the way. Just a couple birds and some deer tracks. I took the kayak far into the lake and tried my hand at fishing. I'm not very good at it. To be honest, I fell asleep halfway through, and it wasn't even because I didn't get enough sleep. Even if I'd gotten ten hours, I'm pretty sure I still would have still fallen asleep. I don't like not doing anything for hours. I'd say it was a failed experiment.

The hikes are good, though. It's so beautiful out here. Peaceful. I sometimes forget about what I'm running from. Is that good? I'm here for a break, but I shouldn't just forget. There's so much I have to do. I wonder how Nic is doing out there without me. I wonder what Simon Reese is up to. I wonder—

No, I need to stop. Um. God, what else is there? I've been eating well. I think I look less like a zombie now. I've caught up with two books that I've been meaning to finish reading for the past year. The third is getting shelved permanently; it's about a man being stalked by his dead uncle's ghost. I don't think I'm going to watch another horror movie ever again. Even when I'm finished with this case—and I can't even see that happening, how awful is that?—I don't think I have that voice saying it's not real anymore. It's like this case has ripped it right out of me. I just keep thinking, all the time, what if it is real?

Out here, the sun's real. The water's real. The bit of sunburn I have on my face is real. I keep reminding myself that this is what matters, what I can see and hear and taste, not what could possibly be beyond it. It works, most of the time. Except—

Alex, just go to sleep.

That's a pretty insulting thing to say to someone with insomnia.

Mm.



iPhone 6 —> 9371 —> Notes —> New Note

It's a cliche to say--or in this case, write--but Strand is much less intimidating when he's sleeping next to you in bed. In the interest of full disclosure, when I talked about that relaxing walks through the forest today, Strand was with me. He arrived here a week into my vacation with news I won't mention here, just because thinking about it is not conducive to sleep, and I convinced him to stay a day here. A day turned into two, then three, then he found my friend's wife's fishing gear in the closet and I told him he might as well stay for my whole vacation. I could use some company and he could use a break, same as me. Aside from that first day, we haven't talked about work at all. I think he took me seriously when I said I needed a break. Or he took the bags under my eyes seriously.

It's easier, sleeping next to Strand. I think I actually got four hours of uninterrupted sleep this time. It might be because there's a warm body next to mine, or some instinct saying that if something comes, I'll have someone to stand with me. But it's more than that. It's Strand. I know that if I wake up to demonic chanting coming from outside the cabin, I can wake him up and he can tell me in his irritating way that it's just the wind. It's hard to be scared when you're irritated.

I guess since I'm writing it all out, I might as well just go with the truth. I'll be deleting this note anyway. And the recording. I'll just tell my doctor that it was accidentally deleted when I began my next note in three hours.

Anyway: Strand and I are sleeping together. I've been just a little interested in it ever since I first heard his voice. He should be doing audiobooks or something. It's hard to be interested when you're irritated, too, though, and the deeper I've gotten into all this stuff, the more Strand's brand of skepticism has irritated me. But out here… We're not working. It's easier to see him as Richard Strand, just a man, than the man on a crusade he usually is. I like that man. A lot. That's stupid, isn't it? I like the work version of him, too, it's just harder to remember that when we're on opposing sides. I wish… After this vacation, this softer side of him is going to disappear. We've got to be harder, better in order to get to the bottom of the mystery around us. I understand that, I do. I'm different out there, too. I haven't asked Strand a single question about his personal life since he came out here.

I feel like I should be calling him Richard, but after calling him by his last name for so long, it just sounds strange. Richard. Ricky. Rich.

At least I'm not calling him Dr. Strand, although that would be funny. Dr. Strand of the Strand Institute: 5/5, great in bed. 4/5 for interpersonal skills. 2/5 for the Mr. Rochester vibe.

I think I should go back to sleep now. We've got another hike planned for tomorrow and I don't want to fall asleep halfway through.

End sleep journal.