Johnny stared at the postcard on the table. "So you don't know who it's from," Walt asked rhetorically.

"Nope," Johnny said. He sat in the dining room chair, his eyebrows creased in that way they would after having a particularly strange vision.

"You get a postcard from God knows who, and it gives you a vision of a bank blowing up. And it says," Walt picked the piece of paper up again. "'Hey Johnny, hope things are going well back home. New York is great, I hope I see you soon.' You think someone might be playing with you?"

"Maybe," Johnny said, sure in that very unsure way. "Maybe they planned the explosion, and sent me the postcard knowing I'd have a vision."

"Yeah, or maybe some crackpot sent you some fan mail, and they just happen to be involved in an explosion." Walt set the postcard down, and stood up. "I don't know Johnny, there's not a whole lot work off of here. I want to save lives just as much as you, but you have visions from touching all sorts of things, what if this is just something that already happened?"

"I know, but…" Johnny's response fell short. He'd already considered all the ways that this postcard could be totally meaningless. The truth was that after they told JJ about Johnny being his biological father, Johnny had been trying to find ways to fix the relationship between him and the man that had raised his son. This little clue seemed like something he might be able to pull Walt into, something that they might be able to solve together. "Alright, give me one more chance. If I can't see anything more useful, we'll drop it…for now."

"Alright Johnny, give it a shot."

He reached out slowly, his fingers shaking slightly above the shiny picture of the statue of liberty, and he's standing in front of a bank. Everything feels fuzzy, like he's looking through fogged up glass. Red and blue lights seem to be illuminating the scene, but he can't see anyone outside. He walks towards the entrance and now he's inside. Many forms seem to be silhouetted in front of him, but he can't see any of them because a bright white inferno is approaching from behind them. Everything disappears into the white hot light. Johnny waits for the vision to end but it doesn't, he remains in the white light. The smell of smoke and death fills his lungs and he can't do anything but stand there, and soon the smells start to seep into his head and he can feel the fire just as much as smell it. Suddenly his head was pounding like he'd been hit with a brick. Walt stood next to him, shaking his shoulder. "Johnny, hey, wake up!"

"Death…" Johnny said as he snapped up. He looked at Walt for a moment, and then his whole body convulsed once.

"Johnny, are you alright? You're burning up," Walt said, lightly touching the back of his hand to Johnny's sweating forehead. "John, you didn't tell me that it was so bad."

"It wasn't last time," Johnny said, breathing heavily. "I didn't see much more, but this time I was in the heart of the explosion."

"You mean in the bank?" Walt asked.

"Yeah…inside." Johnny wiped off his brow. The first time he had just stayed outside of the bank, unsure of why he was there.

"Did you see anything, any sort of clues as to what happened or how it did?" Walt had his police voice on now. He'd witnessed Johnny's visions for over two years now, and he knew when it was serious.

"No…" Johnny said, then stopped, realizing that if he was going to get Walt's help that he'd have to give him more. "Well, there were police lights outside. And inside…I think there were people, but they were all lined up in front of the explosion, like they were waiting for it."

"Like hostages?"

"Yeah, that's right," Johnny said. He hadn't thought of that, but it sounded good.

"Any idea where this bank is and if this in the future or the past?" Walt was persistent, but he had a point. They couldn't really investigate every bank in the county, and he was sure it wasn't any bank in Cleaves Mills.

Johnny was quiet for a moment, and then dropped his hands in desperation. "No, I don't know anything else about it."

Walt gave a slightly sympathetic look. "Alright, well if you get any more disturbing mail, give me a call."

Johnny got up, desperate to think of some way to keep Walt there. This wasn't doing much good for starting out anew. Luckily Walt had already had a reason for showing up. If Johnny had called him over just for this it would have gone over much worse. Lost for words, he walked Walt to the front door. "Sorry about that," he said, not sure what else to say.

"It's alright, just give me a call if you figure out anything more concrete." Walt had the door opened, the outside door knob in his hand.

Johnny put his hand on the door to shut it behind him and he is standing outside his own front door. He knocks a few times, and Johnny answers the door, dressed in his PJs. Johnny smiles, and he stands there and holds up a six pack of beer and they welcome each other. He can't see who he is, for all intents and purposes he is greeting himself into his own house. He walks through the doorway and stopped himself from closing the door as Walt walked off of the porch. "Hey," Johnny said. Walt turned around. "You want to come over this Sunday? Maybe watch the game on my TV? I mean, if you're free. Maybe kick back a few beers…"

Walt was caught off guard. Kicking back a few beers and watching the game was not an experience he had shared often with Johnny, but Sarah had likely talked to him about trying to work things out better with Johnny now that he was more a part of the family. "Uhh, sure. I think I could do that." He hesitated a moment, biting his tongue, before saying, "Maybe JJ could come, too."

"Ah, yeah, that'd be great," Johnny said quickly. "Alright, well, I'll call if something else comes up. Otherwise, see you then?"

"Yeah," Walt said, waving as he walked back to his police cruiser.

Johnny sat on his couch, watching the news. He had been even more vigilant in his news viewing and reading since Stillson had won the election. It was Sunday, and Walt would be there any minute. The last few days had gone past rather uneventfully. He hadn't had a vision when he put the postcard away, and no more strange mail came, just the occasional bill which gave him a glimpse into a postal worker's adultery or something of that nature.

He was apprehensive as he sat there. He had invited Walt over under the pretense that it might fulfill the vision he had seen at his door. The problem was that everything was stacking up against that happening. For one, it was lighter outside. Also, he definitely hadn't had JJ at his side when he was invited into own home by his self. The vision had just seemed very positive. Both he and the person coming in were very happy to see each other, and he had already ruled out Bruce because he definitely didn't have a black hand when he knocked. All that left was Walt. He didn't have any pals that would come over with a six pack of beer. Maybe if it wasn't this weekend then it was just a glimpse into the more-distant future when he and Walt were better friends.

Two hours passed and he still hadn't heard from Walt, and the game was already halfway through, though Johnny wasn't even watching it. Somehow for two hours he had found a way to think about Walt even more, which was strange, because he hadn't cared about the man so much before. Granted, he had saved his life various times, had even saved him from choosing to die, but outside of the saving-lives department, they didn't spend a whole lot of quality time together. Having another guy raise your child while you're in a coma can put an awkward spike in the development of a relationship.

Ten minutes later he heard the doorbell. He changed the TV back to the game, and jumped up to answer the door. It was definitely dark outside. Night time, check. Maybe this would work out after all, Johnny thought. When Johnny answered the door (rather than calling out for Walt to come in) he found him standing on the porch alone. No JJ, check. "Hey," Walt said, somewhat awkwardly. His hands rose up in a sort of shrug, and then Johnny noticed. Six pack of beer? Nope. Apparently this wasn't what he had seen.

Johnny invited him in, pulled out some nachos that he had tossed in the oven for dinner, and sat down at the TV. "So no JJ?"

"No," Walt said, taking a sip of the beer Johnny had brought out. "Somehow his reluctant mommy came up with a very good excuse for him not to come." Walt seemed disappointed about this, and Johnny realized how weird it was that he wasn't looking forward to JJ being there. He really liked the time he was able to spend with JJ now, but there was something about that vision at the door that kept his curiosity running. "He has a math project due this week, so she helped him out. I suggested that you could do a little more in that department, but she insisted that I come alone."

"Don't sound too sad about it," Johnny insisted sarcastically.

"Ugh, sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Walt said, not at all flustered when some people might be. "It's just…" he trailed off.

"I know," Johnny said. Walt held his glance away, keeping it mostly on the television, but they still shared an expression of relief at the other's understanding.

"Sorry I'm late, by the way. The discussion was about a little more than JJ's math project. I had to smooth things out before I could leave the house comfortably." Johnny nodded in mock-understanding. Smoothing over fights was the last of all things that he remembered doing with Sarah.

The conversation moved to the game after awhile, while they munched on nachos and continued to sip at their beers. When the game ended there wasn't much more small talk to make, and Walt walked off to the bathroom for a few minutes. In the relative silence Johnny reflected on whether or not this night had achieved much. He got up to put the empty bottles away, and as he came back into the living room his cane got caught on something and he stumbled into the liquor cabinet, and he's holding a glass in his hand, which was handed to him by Johnny. He looks up and smiles, and they both toast jokingly before taking a sip of the scotch. They sit back down on the couch together, but for some reason he can't hear anything he or Johnny is saying. All he can hear is "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" from Nirvana's Lithium drowning out all other sound. He sets down his glass and he caught himself on a table before falling over.

Walt walked in, and Johnny leaned back on the liquor cabinet. "Hey, would you like some scotch?" he asked, only somewhat awkwardly.

Walt looked uncertain. "I don't think so, I kind of have to drive home, Johnny. How would it look if the county sheriff got pulled over on a DUI?"

"Come on Walt, just one drink. Might liven up both of our moods, and then maybe we could get ourselves around this elephant in the room and talk about a little more than the defense getting possession of the ball at the twenty-yard line."

"This is absolutely stupid for a cop to say…but I guess one drink couldn't hurt." Johnny didn't remind him that they had both already drank two beers.

Johnny paid close attention to how he poured the glass, wondering if this would happen like in his vision. He raised his glass in a mock toast, and Walt grudgingly raised his as well, but right away Johnny could tell that it wasn't the same.

"Well, about that elephant," Walt said, giving in to a smile a bit. He started walking into the living room, and Johnny picked up the bottle and brought it with them as they walked, vaguely hoping for more to the vision. Walt took another sip of his drink as he sat in a chair near the couch. "We're both his dads now…officially," Walt said slowly. "That sounded dumb."

"No, not at all. It's true. We're both his dad, and I've been thinking that we need to be together on this as more of a united front. I don't want to sound possessive or anything, but don't get me wrong, I'm really happy to be a bigger part of JJ's life now. I think it will work out for all of us best if you and I are on level ground with each other." Both Johnny and Walt finished their drinks after that. Johnny absent-mindedly filled both of their glasses again.

"That's totally right, you're right. We can't be divided on this, it will just confuse JJ more. Sarah's been saying the same thing." Walt took another drink and winced slightly. "It's just…weird. I've gotten over you being in a coma, but this changes things…"

"Weird, for you? I thought I had it bad." Johnny found himself being more sarcastic after drinking.

Walt looked at him and did a double take before shaking his head. "Sorry, you're right. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault," Walt said, shaking is head again. "It's just a very strange situation. I mean, what if JJ is like you?"

"Like me? What, like he has visions too? I don't think he's been in a coma recently, so we're probably alright in that department." Johnny didn't bother mentioning to Walt that he had visions when he was younger, just after being knocked down.

"Yeah, well I'm sure he'll think about it." Walt drank a little more, and Johnny topped off his glass again as he spoke.

"This situation is a little convoluted. The kid normally knows that the new dad is a step dad because the real dad is generally alive and kicking." There was some hidden resentment in Johnny's voice over the fact that Sarah and Walt never told JJ anyways. It was hard not to feel like he had just been dead for six years, and it might be better for some people if he hadn't woken up at all.

It took Johnny a moment to realize that he had said these last things out loud. Walt was looking at him with a whole lot more sympathy than he normally showed. "But you've helped so many people Johnny. And you're going to help so many more people. Hell, I'd be proud if JJ could help people like that…" He took another drink and smiled. "But I'd prefer not to have to put up cameras all over the house."

"Well, the profession is a little dangerous." Johnny smiled bitterly and took a drink.

"Damn, it's kind of late." Walt stood up quickly, possibly too quickly, and stumbled onto the couch next to Johnny. "Woah, I thought I said just one drink."

"I thought you'd have a higher tolerance, buddy," Johnny said, smiling. "I guess the only choice is for you to stay here tonight." Johnny wasn't sure why he said this, it had never been his intention to keep Walt over. Though it was late, he thought Sarah might even prefer to pick him up than to leave him there. Then, on second thought, Johnny decided this may have been her plot all along.

Walt mumbled a bit, and then sank into the couch. "You're probably right. I don't need to be in early tomorrow anyways." He picked up his glass and finished it off. "But what to do?"

Johnny picked up the remote, and instinctively switched to CNN, then gained a little more control and flicked the channel to Comedy Central. A movie was on, and they watched it together rather quietly. They both tried to start conversation up a few more times, but it all fell short of being interesting.

Johnny jerked his head up. He had nodded off on the couch. He turned his head sleepily to see Walt resting on his shoulder, mouth open and quietly dozing. He then realized that his arm was draped over Walt's shoulder, and wasn't sure what to think about that. He noticed it was around midnight, and shook Walt with his arm. "Hey bud, wake up."

Walt moaned groggily and opened his eyes. "What hon, is it morning?" This only made things a million times more awkward, and John removed his arm and scooted away before Walt could fully process what was going on.

"Nope buddy, but we got to get you to bed." Johnny grabbed his wrist and pulled. "Come on you big lug, I'll put you in the guest room." Walt just shook his head drowsily as Johnny led him to a guest room and sat him down. "Alright, there's no sheets here, so I'm going to go grab some."

Walt nodded and rubbed his eyes as Johnny left. He walked slowly to a hall closet and opened it. He reached out to grab some sheets and he is standing by the guest room bed, and Johnny is lying in it and smiling. Both of their shirts are gone, and he is slowly kneeling on the bed and straddling Johnny's body. "I'm so lonely, and that's ok, I shaved my head, and I'm not sad." Again, Nirvana is all he can hear. He touches Johnny's chest softly, lightly caressing his nipples with both hands. He leans down and kisses Johnny lightly on the lips, and Johnny gasps sharply as he pinches his nipples between his middle finger and thumb. "Yeeah-ah-ah, Yeeah-eeah-ah," As Johnny's teeth part slightly, he slowly glides in his tongue, and Johnny moans under him as his hand slowly descends and…"Hey John," Walt cried down the hallway. "I feel kind of woozy, can you hurry up."

Johnny shook his head, and pulled his hand away from his hardening erection. That was definitely not something he had experienced yet. He had felt other people having sexual relations with each other, but never him doing it with himself. But there was more strangeness to it, because he was very sure that whoever was pleasuring him was a man, the same man that would knock at his door with a six pack and drink scotch with him.

He grabbed the sheets and quickly jogged back to Walt's room. "Do you think you're going to throw up?"

"No, just queasy. I just need to lie down." Johnny looked at Walt, and for some reason he felt that in some way he was looking at him for the first time. Johnny had never had any homosexual tendencies or thoughts, yet he had just had a vision in which some man was making love to him. Could the man in the vision still be Walt? "Hey, earth to psychic, toss me the sheets."

Johnny snapped his head away, realizing that he had just been staring at Walt the whole time. He tossed Walt the sheets and gave him an awkward goodnight before practically running away to his own room. That was one vision that he wasn't going to try to make come true. That he'd ever even want to sleep with Walt was insane. Why would he even think about that?

The next morning Johnny slept in late. He got up quickly in bed and walked to the guest room to see if Walt was still there. The bed was made, and when Johnny checked the living room and dining room they were similarly empty. Finally in the kitchen he found a note. He rested an arm on the counter as he leaned over and read it. "Thanks for the scotch and the talk, Johnny. Sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye. I think we should do it again sometime." Johnny picked up the note, grinned, and crumpled it up.

After he tossed the note in the trash he noticed it. There was a smiley face sticker on his counter under where the note had been. Was this from Walt? Johnny could hardly expect something so…friendly from him. No, the right word was odd, not friendly. He reached down with his finger and there's soot falling everywhere, all around him. It feels like his jumps into the future with Wey, but there's no devastated Washington DC here, just a room with blackened walls and falling ash. All he can smell is burning and death, and it takes him a while to realize this is the bank, or at least a bank, that was destroyed. He doesn't see any corpses, just ash, everywhere, constantly falling and swirling. He walks to the nearest doorway but the ash thickens in the air, and he can't see. The burnt remnants begin to choke him, he can't breath, and he coughed and coughed over the sink until he stopped long enough to get a drink of water.

He stood there, gasping for breath, and once again sweating heavily. It was his first instinct to pick up the phone and call Walt, but then he decided against that. There was no more evidence about the explosion. But the odd thing was the sticker. Had Walt put it there? If so, why, and how was it connected to the explosion? He looked at it a second time and only now noticed that someone had written an "x" over it with pencil. He decided to call Bruce instead, who he probably should have been thinking to call first.

"Hey, what's up?" Bruce asked after picking up.

"Hey, you remember that postcard I told you about?" Johnny asked, looking wearily at the sticker before leaving the kitchen to sit in the dining room.

"You mean the random postcard that gave you a glimpse of death and despair? What about it?" Bruce asked casually. This was kind of an everyday thing between them.

"Well, something else just showed up in my house," Johnny said, quieting his voice a bit without knowing why. Bruce just gave an "uh huh," so Johnny continued. "Walt was over last night, we drank too much so he couldn't drive." Bruce had no response to this. "Anyways, he left this note on the counter."

"Aww, I didn't know he would be so crude after a one night stand. I'm sorry if you're heartbroken or something." Bruce chuckled without continuing.

"You have no idea how not funny that is," Johnny said with a very serious tone. He still hadn't forgotten the vision he'd had at the hall closet. It was fuzzy in his memory, but it was too much to just forget. "Anyways, there was a…sticker on the counter under the note." Bruce chuckled again. "I'm not sure if Walt left it, though. When I touched it I got another vision of the bank, but this time after it had been destroyed. I also wasn't sure if it was the same bank, it looked kind of different."

"I thought you didn't see much of the bank," Bruce asked.

"Well, I didn't really, but the overall layout was different. And it felt old, like it had been days since the explosion. There wasn't any dead bodies…just ash."

"Hmm, ash," Bruce said. He sounded kind of busy.

"Yes ash, that was continually falling, like a fog…choking me." Johnny cleared his throat in memory of the feeling.

"Oh, evil ash. Okay," Bruce said, and there came the sound of something falling. "Damnit. Johnny, are you saying somebody broke into your house?"

"I don't know what I'm saying. Walt's not the kind of guy to put smiley face stickers all over the place, is he?"

"Oh, it was a smiley face, well that changes everything." Bruce wasn't being very helpful this time. "Haha, well, Johnny, did you ever think of checking the security system? That's what it's for."

"Oh, right, duh." He felt like an idiot. It was his own house, and for some reason that was the last thing he thought about. "Yeah, I'll do that." There was a beep in his ear. "Oh, sorry Bruce, there's someone on the other line."

"Alright John, I'll talk to you later. Call me if you figure anything else out." Maybe it was just Johnny, but Bruce sounded somewhat relieved to get off the phone.

"Will do, bye." Johnny pressed the TALK button on the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey John, it's Walt." Right at the sound of his voice Johnny seemed to perk up. He didn't have to call Walt now because Walt was calling him.

"Hey Walt, what's up?"

"Well, I heard something related to your bank vision." He had his police voice on. He wasn't about to talk about the fact that he had just disappeared from Johnny's house early in the morning…as if that mattered.

"Yeah?" Johnny said.

"There was something just…well, frankly, I may have found your bank." Johnny stood up in excitement. "In New York City there was something…similar…to what you described. Well, it looks like an accident, but the police think it might be arson, a bank completely burned to the ground, decimated by some sort of gas explosion." Johnny shuddered. He had seen that: the empty gray grave that had been burnt out completely by the explosion. "But there's more John. Another bank in upstate New York was hit in a similar way, and then one in New Hampshire. That's why the police think it's arson, and they're also considering that perhaps the banks were robbed before being burned down. Both of these were less than a month ago." Johnny was thinking on overdrive. The others banks made sense now, because he had seen two of them. "Johnny, I think we were right about someone playing with you. The last bank that was hit was in Portland."

"What? They've hit four banks and no one has caught them?" Johnny was surprised—any criminal, whether bank robber or arsonist, usually didn't make it too far before being caught.

"My point is that they're getting closer to you. If I'm right, they're going to hit somewhere in Penobscott County. You got a postcard from New York, has anything new come up, anything at all?"

"Well, actually…" Johnny trailed off, unsure of how to explain this. "That note you left in my kitchen, did you put a smiley face sticker under it?"

"Note? What note?" Walt sounded concerned immediately.

"Walt, you're joking me right? It's in your hand writing." Johnny walked back into the kitchen and pulled it out of the trash, uncrumpling it.

"I didn't leave a note. Something came up at the station and I had to come in. Johnny, have you checked your security system?"

"I'm looking at it right now. It is your handwriting. It says: 'Thanks for the scotch and the talk, Johnny. Sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye. I think we should do it again sometime.' You are honestly telling me that you don't remember writing this?" Johnny was confused, and now just a little scared.

"No, I didn't write it. Tell you what, you come down to the station and I'll take a look at this note. Then I'll try to find a way to get to Portland today or tomorrow so that you can check out the bank, and maybe then you can make sense of all this." Was it just Johnny, or did it sound like nobody wanted to talk to him right now?

"Okay, alright, I'll be there in the next hour." Portland was a long drive from Cleaves Mills, but Walt was right. The bank would be able to give him more than these little clues.

"And check your security system. For all we know right now, somebody broke in and planted a note in your kitchen. Now why they would do that, I don't know."

"Yeah, will do. See you soon Walt." They both hung up, and Johnny set down the phone slowly. He was now totally confused. He hadn't even had a chance to tell Walt what the sticker meant, and according to Walt neither was left by him. Johnny wasn't sure what to think, maybe Walt had had a hangover and just didn't remember. They hadn't drank that much though.

Johnny set his jaw firm, and started cooking breakfast, ignoring the smiley face on his counter.