Disclaimer: I don't own Perception.


Max Lewicki is standing ready when we arrive back at Daniel's. We manage to get Daniel calmed down and up to bed without triggering another episode. Once he's fast asleep, I'm unwilling to leave him, so I ask Max if I can stay for the night on the couch.

We meet in the kitchen early the next morning, and I watch Max brew coffee for our conversation and start cutting up fruit for Daniel's breakfast. I sip coffee and wait for his questions.

He opens with, "So now you've seen it."

I nod as I remember Daniel's terror. "It must've been a bad one, Max. I've never seen him this freaked out before."

"He's always been afraid of showing you what he's like when he sees...them."

I shrink back a little, defensive. "I've known about his condition for years."

"But seeing it in action is different than hearing about it, right?"

About to refute, I swallow my words. So I say, "...I've seen it before."

Max frowns. "When?"

"A couple cases ago. Sometimes when he's off by himself, I notice him trying to speak to the air without drawing attention to himself." I remember the few times I actually saw him speaking to himself. "Like he's speaking to a person standing right beside him, you know?"

The younger man nods. "Yeah. I've seen him do it here too."

I manage to maintain eye contact with Max. I have to keep reminding myself that none of this was new to him; after all, Daniel had hired him to keep track of his reality. "Everytime he said he had a "gut feeling" about something, I figured it meant that a hallucination had helped him work something out."

"And you never told him?" Max asks.

"Why would I? It makes him uncomfortable, and nobody else would understand his process." I frown when I recall Reardon's tactless mention of Daniel's medical history. "Reardon found out by doing a background check, and that's how I learned about his time in the hospital last year. Where you two met."

Lewicki has a weak half-smile. "I thought it was a good idea."

"But he's never freaked out like that before," I say, glancing up the stairs. "It was like he was terrified of what he saw. Or who he saw."

"He's been under an incredible amount of stress for the last two weeks. Maybe it culminated while he was alone," Max says.

"If I'd known that, I never would've - " I stop myself from making a statement I couldn't have known I'd keep. I know myself - and Daniel - too well. "I would've made sure he wasn't alone," I finish lamely.

Max chuckles, artfully arranging slices of fruit on a place. "He's a stubborn ass. He wouldn't have wanted an FBI babysitter." He glances up the stairs. "Can you stay with him? I'm late for class - "

Of course I'll stay. I wouldn't leave him after that. "Go, Max," I say. "I'll stick around to take care of Daniel."

He heads out with a grateful nod, leaving me to wander Daniel's house. I've never actually seen most of it outside the study, so I start curiously prowling around. Everything's messy, but in an orderly way - Max's influence, no doubt.

As I wonder, I think about last night. My lead had come up completely dead - a blessing in disguise, apparently. I'd been on my way back to the bureau to report to Reardon when I realized that I had Daniel's briefcase with me. I figured he'd need something from inside, so I turned around and headed back to the crime scene.

Good thing I did. I no sooner open the door than I hear Daniel screaming my name like someone's after him with a knife. I ran inside and saw him trying to smush his back into a corner, his arms wildly trying to beat back whatever hallucinations were accosting him. I didn't think he'd respond to me, but when he did, I got him out of there as fast as I could.

I shiver and shake my head to clear it. My eyes land on the baby grand piano, and it makes me smile. For some reason, it makes sense that Daniel has it. I'm sure he plays beautifully. I draw my hand across the well-worn keys and try to imagine him playing something -

"LEWICKI!"

Daniel. He's scared.

Breathe. Just get up there to him.

"LEWICKI!"

Don't panic. I take the steps two at a time, almost slipping on the smooth hardwood floor as I run. Keep breathing. Don't trip. Breathe.

"LEWICKI!"

I screech to a halt before I reach his bedroom door. Breathe, I order myself. Don't show panic. Composing myself, I step into his line of sight and lean against the doorframe, trying to speak between gasps. "Max just went to class. I'm here, it's okay."

He's staring at me like he can't believe his eyes. His hair is stuck up every which way and he's tangled in his sheets like a mummy. It looks like he's had a terrifying nightmare. From the lingering fear in his eyes, it seems as if he can't believe I'm real.

I stop myself before I feel pity. He's said it before - he doesn't like talking about his diagnosis because people define him by it. I refuse to be that person.

"Daniel?" I say softly. I don't want to move closer because I don't want to freak him out again. Stupid as it sounds coming out of my mouth, I really have no other way to say it. "Daniel, it's okay. I'm - I'm real."

He just blinks again and whispers, "Kate?"


My thanks to TheInvisibleQuestion who gave the review that unblocked my writer's block for this part.

Review please!