Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Stephen King and Lions Gate Films. I am making no money from this.

Sight Within

Part 2

by Megan

From his vantage point behind his desk, Walt sat grim-faced and watched the endless parade of weary people trudge though the precinct. Police stations were a good place to people watch. Over the years, he'd become quite proficient at it, so when Johnny and Bruce came in, he knew instantly something wasn't right between them.

Bruce entered first, his face grim yet concerned. His eyes searched the room, probably making sure Dana Bright wasn't around to pester him or Johnny. Walt was sure Bruce hadn't slept a wink since leaving the station only hours earlier, but it looked like he hadn't slept in longer than that.

Johnny followed, an equally grim look on his face mixed with a hint of something else. Fear? Apprehension? His movements were stiff and slow, the small muscles around his eyes tensing with each step. He made sure to keep well out of arms reach of Bruce. Sure, John didn't like people touching him, but he always walked right next to Bruce; even occasionally brushing against him.

"Mornin', guys," he greeted from the door to his office. "Why don't you come on in and have a seat."

Bruce made a move to enter the office, but John was quick to intervene. "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

Not sure how to respond to that, Bruce was saved the trouble when John spoke again. "This is private. Between Walt and I. Just hang out here or something," he said condescendingly.

Walt saw the hurt flash across Bruce's face.

"Since when do you care about whether I know about your private business or not? It's never been an issue before."

"I've started caring since-"

Judging by the rising voices, Walt knew this could get out of hand fast. "Hey, calm down you two! John, go sit down. Bruce, we'll be a few minutes. Go help yourself to the coffee."

Shaking his head, Bruce slowly turned and with one last confused glance at John, left them alone.

Once they were both seated, Walt decided to get right down to it. It was obvious the younger man was troubled, and he doubted Johnny's mood was going to tolerate beating around the bush. "Why didn't you tell me," he stated flat out.

"It was no one's business." He held the head of his cane with both hands, and stared at a spot in the air somewhere between Walt and himself.

"It's police business, John. You should have told me."

"Why? What possible difference would it have made except to humiliate me?" He'd done a good job of keeping his voice level until now. The stress he was feeling was starting to show through in his voice.

"John, it is no one's intent to humiliate you. You were the victim of a horrible crime, and bore witness to something no one should. Didn't you think we'd eventually find out? She taped the whole thing!"

John looked down. "I didn't think she had recorded that particular part. At least I hoped she hadn't," he whispered.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?" He stared intently at the younger man, waiting for him to look up and make eye contact. He did, but it was brief. Too brief.

"Nothing."

Walt sighed and walked around the desk to the door, opening it slowly. John followed suit. "Talk to Bruce, John. He can help." The Sheriff unconsciously reached out and gave the other man's shoulder a squeeze, unprepared for the sudden flinch and flash of pain which was gone as quickly as it appeared. John saw the questioning look on his face and answered his question before it was even asked.

"I'm fine. Just stiff from being taped to a chair for so long." He gave a weak smile, trying to put Walt at ease.

"Sounds kinky. Why wasn't I invited?"

"Oh, god," Walt muttered under his breath. She'd obviously been waiting at the door. "What the hell are you doing here, Dana? No one's in the mood for you right now."

"Ouch," she playfully drawled. "I just came by to see if my dear friend John would like to grab a coffee and..."

"Have me tell you all about yesterday so you can glorify it, publish it, then bask in the admiration of all the other reporters because you've kissed up to Johnny Smith? Forget about it."

His biting words struck deep, as she knew they were closer to the truth than she'd like to admit.

Bruce, alerted to Johnny's exit from the Sheriff's office by the loud voices hurried over, coffee still in hand. He felt rather than saw the tension and knew Johnny's foul mood had claimed another victim.

"Why don't you take Johnny home, Bruce. The best thing right now is rest. For the both of you."

"Yeah, like rest will make this all better," Johnny said low enough that only Bruce could hear him.

"Come on, John." Bruce glanced at Walt over John's shoulder, conveying in a look that he'd take care of his friend. "Let's get you home."

Without a word, Johnny turned and shuffled from the station, Bruce trailing behind.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Johnny's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. All unpleasant. First he would hear Penny's voice. Then it would be her friends. Then the horrible screams of the Connor family as they were brutally slaughtered by a boy not old enough to know what acne was. Then the voices would change. Instead of hearing what was actually said, the voices would taunt him. Tell him he wouldn't be rescued in time because Walt had called off the search, not caring enough to waste the man power. He could hear Penny telling him Bruce had more important things to do than look all over for him. Rationally, he knew none of that had happened. Of course Walt, and Bruce, and even Dana and Sarah had been looking for him. Why couldn't he make himself believe that? Then he'd feel even more horrible because he seemed to be unable to stop himself from taking out his frustrations on anyone other than his closest friends. He wouldn't be surprised if they abandoned him now.

Closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the passenger window of Bruce's car, John tried to not let his thoughts drift. Instead, focusing on the feel of the car's suspension on the country road. The vibrations in the glass; hushed tones of the radio. Anything but what had happened.

Without opening his eyes, he knew Bruce had pulled up in front of his house by the feel of the driveway. He knew the location and feel of every hole and bump. Reaching for the door handle, Bruce's voice stopped him.

"I have to get to the hospital, but I'll drop by later and we can pick up your Jeep. You gonna be all right?"

"Yep." Johnny got out of the vehicle and did his best to suppress his heavy limp. He could feel Bruce's worried eyes boring into his back, and didn't want to give him any cause to worry further.

Sighing, he entered his kitchen and reached for the cupboard containing the painkillers. Dry swallowing two, he considered watching TV to clear his mind, until that reminded him of that damned video camera the girls were hauling around with them. Deciding that putting on the radio and lying on the couch would be a better option, he settled into the plump cushions and was asleep before the first song ended.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"I feel close to you."

"I won't let them lock you up."

"We'll be together. You and me."

He tried to trick her with the empty promises. Get her to help him escape from the dreadful farmhouse. He never in a million years thought she'd actually believe him, or pretend to believe him. She settled onto his lap, covering his mouth with her own, forcefully pressing her tongue against his teeth.

"You've locked your lips, I can't get my tongue in." All he could feel was her weight in his lap, her moist breath whispering across his face and neck, her hands touching him. Her dilated pupils looked at him like a piece of meat waiting to be devoured. And then her mouth was on his again.

He sighed in relief when she stood up and walked across the room, but felt dread in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, seductively, she started to take her clothes off, and babbled about ovulation and babies. Again, she was on his lap sucking on his neck. A vision of a very pregnant Penny rocked him, taking his breath away.

"Penny, we can't do this." He tried to undo his mistake. He couldn't let her continue to believe he actually cared for her. He hadn't meant for it to progress this far.

"Oh, yes we can." She removed herself from his lap, and retrieved something shiny. "If it's a boy, we'll name him Johnny. If it's a girl, we'll still name her Johnny."

He could only watch, helpless, as the knife cut through the tape. It was only inches from cutting into him. Exposing him.

"Penny, not here. Not like this." He was close to begging.

"Yes, exactly like this."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He knew what was coming. Not bothering to grab his cane, he was off the couch and stumbling to the bathroom as fast as his shaking legs would carry him. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet just as his rebellious stomach heaved it's meager contents. Eyes tearing as the

straining pulled his already painful muscles, he moaned as he felt the spasming slow, then stop.

He should have known better than to take the pills on an empty stomach. Now, he was really paying for it. What was more, the pills hadn't been in long enough to absorb and give him any real relief. He'd only been asleep for half an hour.

He spit one final time into the bowl before grabbing the sink and pulling himself to his feet and gasping as his hip spasmed. Vision swimming, he realized the pain had never been quite so intense. Maybe there was something really wrong.

Hands shaking, he splashed some cold water onto his face in an attempt to make himself feel more human and then slowly returned to the couch. Not feeling like trying to sleep, he grabbed a book off the end table and settled in to read for a while.

It must have been mid-afternoon when the shrill ring of the phone shattered his concentration. Not even bothering to drag himself off the couch, he listened for the answering machine to pick up.

"Hey John, it's Bruce. I guess you're occupied at the moment. I get off at five today, and was thinking I might drop by with chinese or somethin'. Anyways, gotta get back. See-ya then."

Great. That was just what he needed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Come on, man, where are you?" Bruce mumbled to himself. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, impatience clearly showing. He felt like he'd been waiting for Johnny to answer the door for an hour when it had actually only been a few minutes. "Food's gonna get cold, John! Cold pizza I don't mind, but cold Chinese is just wrong!"

Finally, the door creaked open to reveal a very drained looking Johnny.

"Wow, my grandma looked more alive at her funeral than you do now."

"You came here to insult me?"

"Man, you need to lighten up," Bruce said as he breezed past Johnny and headed for the kitchen.

John came and stood in the kitchen entryway, feigning interest.

"Don't worry about helping set the table or anything," Bruce hinted with a sarcasm-laced voice.

"I didn't invite you here."

"You didn't call and tell me not to come, either. Lets just have dinner, and if you still want me to leave after, I will. All right?"

"Sure," John replied with a shrug. Couldn't hurt. It would make Bruce happy, hopefully worry about him less, and then he'd have the night to himself. He hobbled to the table and took a seat while Bruce carried over the plates and utensils and plopped into the other chair. As John reached for a plate, his hand brushed the carton of rice, knocking it from it's precarious position at the edge of the table. Bruce reacted quickly and made a grab at the same time Johnny did, misjudged, and grabbed John's wrist instead.

The reaction was instant. For a second, John was dead still, eyes wide and staring into space. This was immediately followed by a terrified, "Don't touch me!" as he yanked his arm back and stood up so suddenly his chair tipped over.

The silence hung thick in the air as Bruce and John took in the situation. Bruce had seen this type of reaction before, in two different contexts, and felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"John," he stated quietly, holding his hands out in a placating manner.

"I'm all right," he breathed, face pale. "I think it would be best if you left now."

He limped the two steps over to where his cane had fallen to the floor, and bent to retrieve it. A sharp pain shot from his hip to his lower back, almost dropping him to the floor. He couldn't suppress the gasp that shot from his throat. He felt rather than saw Bruce move forward to help. "Don't! It's fine. I'm fine." With painful slowness, he grabbed his cane and straightened up.

"No, John. You are not 'fine'. Have you taken a look in the mirror! You look like you haven't slept in months, you're not eating, you can barely move, and now you're afraid of me! Not to mention the irritability. My god, John. You're more unstable than a postal worker with a semiautomatic!"

John didn't say anything and limped heavily to the cupboard for the pain killers, not caring that Bruce was standing right there.

"What happened between you and Penny, John?"

"Nothing, okay? Not one damn thing! You know where the door is."

Defeat weighed heavily upon Bruce's shoulders as he watched someone he considered a best friend give him the heave ho for the second time, and head up to his room. Johnny was hurting, and he was damned if he was going to let it ruin their friendship. There was one other person who might know what was really going on.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Come on, mom. Just one more piece of chicken?" JJ pleaded.

"No, JJ. Eat your broccoli first, then -" The loud knocking on the front door interrupted the mundane family conversation. Sara flashed Walt a look of annoyance, Walt flashed Sara a look of resignation.

Some days he really wished his job wouldn't follow him home so he could enjoy something as simple as a quiet dinner with his family. Deciding it had to be either John with another vision, or Roscoe with a really important case, he slid back his chair and made his way to the door.

He opened the door to reveal Bruce, looking quite upset about something.

"Bruce." He couldn't quite hide his surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk with you about something."

"Walt? Who's at the door?" Sara called from the kitchen.

"It's all right, honey, it's just Bruce."

For a second, Bruce looked unsure of himself. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Oh no, just dinner."

Bruce caught the hidden message in the tone and had the good grace to look embarrassed for half a second. Working shifts at the hospital tended to make you forget other people still ate at regular meal times. "It's important. It's about John."

Walt sighed and signaled Bruce to enter, taking him to the kitchen. "Have you eaten yet? I'm sure Sara could put a plate together for you."

"No, thanks. If you don't mind, I'd like to speak with you in private. Hi Sara, JJ."

"Hey." Sara's worried eyes bore into his, seeking the answers he wasn't about to give her.

Walt took him into the living room and took a seat on the couch. Bruce did like wise.

"What did you and John talk about in your office this morning?" Bruce got right to the point.

"Excuse me?"

"John hasn't been himself since we found him in New Hampshire, and he was worse after talking with you this morning. He won't open up to me. I was hoping you would be able to tell me."

"Bruce, you know as well as I do the importance of confidentiality. Whatever I talked about with John, I can't discuss with you. John has only been back a little over a day. Give him some time to get over what happened." Walt had seen people experience far less than John and walk away with worse emotional scars. He had thought John was doing pretty good, considering.

"Time isn't the problem. He's been through a lot since his coma, seen things no one should have to see, and has never behaved like this. He might withdraw from his friends for a while, but he has never been all over the map! You heard what he said to Dana today."

"Maybe there's only so much one guy can handle. And about Dana, he was voicing what we all feel about her from time to time."

"You think he's hit his breaking point? If that's what you're suggesting, you don't sound too concerned."

The older man groaned. He was concerned about Johnny. The encounter in his office had left him uneasy, but he wasn't able to express that. Maybe a lifetime of dealing with people in crisis had left him numb to it. He hoped that wasn't the case. "When John is ready to talk, be there for him. That's all I can say."

"Easier said than done. At dinner tonight, I accidentally touched him. And no word of a lie, he looked terrified of me! It was like he thought I was going to hurt him, and started yelling at me to not touch him. I've seen that reaction before and I can't ignore what it means." He watched Walt's face closely for a reaction.

"So John doesn't like to be touched. Maybe he's tired of all the visions." Walt hoped his answer covered the unease he was starting to feel. Bruce was too smart to not figure it out eventually.

"No, Walt. Penny raped him didn't she." It was a statement, not a question. Walt hesitated before answering. It was all Bruce needed. "Oh my god, she did, didn't she."

"Bruce, please speak with John about this." He stood, implying the conversation was over. "He's the only one that can tell you what really happened."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

John stood in his bedroom, not sure what to do with himself. It was still early in the evening and he wasn't too anxious to get to bed so soon. Especially considering the horrible visions and dreams he'd been having. The scene with Bruce at dinner played over and over in his mind. Not only what had actually happened, but what he had seen in the damn vision that had popped into his mind when Bruce touched him.

It wasn't that Bruce had never caused a vision. He had on many times, good and bad. Everyone had their secrets. What bothered John was the abstract content of the vision, and the fact that what he had seen had never happened and would never happen. What had gotten to him was the sheer realism of it. Every time he relived the events at the farm house, they became more realistic, but more surreal at the same time.

His stomach started to churn again, reminding him he'd been foolish enough to take the pain killers on an empty stomach. Deciding throwing up again would be worse than struggling down the steps to the kitchen, he went downstairs for a glass of milk, not quite feeling ready for food. The pain in his hip was only increasing as time went by. The bruising was darker, and the tissue was swollen. He really hoped it wasn't serious. The last thing he needed in his life was more trouble.

An hour later, the pills were starting to take effect and he could feel his eyes starting to droop as his thought processes slow down. Curling up on his good side on his bed, John let his eyes drift closed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You've locked your lips, I can't get my tongue in."

The now all too familiar scene played again in front of his eyes, and he was helpless to stop it. His hyper sensitive skin burned where Penny touched him, her saliva tasting bitter in his mouth.

When she stood up and started taking her clothes off, he changed tactics, hoping to change the outcome of the scenario. "I was lying to you, Penny. I don't like you, and I don't want this." She returned and took a seat on his lap, not even phased by his forward words. "I'm warning you, Penny. If you don't back off, I'll..."

"You'll what?" she playfully drawled. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement. She stood and turned away from him, reaching for the knife. When she turned back, he watched in horror as her pale skin darkened and blond curls turned into black dread locks. "If it's a boy, we'll name him Johnny. If it's a girl, we'll still name her Johnny." It was still Penny's voice, but Bruce's body. His head started to spin. The knife started to cut through the tape.

"Penny, don't do this!"

"Penny, is that who you think I am?" With each word the voice deepened until only Bruce's voice could be heard. He grinned, exposing shiny white teeth, and expressing more malice than playfulness now. Bruce's overly bright eyes moved from John's face down to his lap, and used the knife to cut straight through his clothes.

He looked past Bruce and was caught staring straight into his own eyes as he looked at himself holding the camera, smiling viciously. A scream tore from his throat.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He sat bolt upright in bed, screaming his throat hoarse. At the same time, a jolt of pain ripped from his hip up into his back, choking off his scream and turning it into a sob of agony. He doubled over and ground his teeth, fighting off the tears threatening to overcome him. He'd never experienced anything like that. He wanted to call Bruce and started to reach for the phone, but the feeling of that knife over his groin assailed him and he recoiled, instead punching the mattress. The fear was irrational, he knew that. Bruce would never hurt him, but each time he imagined Bruce, all he could see was Bruce attempting to rape him. At least the dream had never gone far enough to depict the actual rape, but it didn't have to. The damage had been done.

Maybe he could call Walt. A glance at the clock quickly killed that idea. There was no way he'd call him at home at three in the morning. The man had had as little sleep as he and Bruce. In fact, less since he was left dealing with the whole kidnapping mess after it had ended for him. He had waited this long already. What was a few more hours?

Deciding TV and a few more pain pills were in order, he made the painful journey down the stairs once again. This time, his sluggish mind misjudged the distance on the steps, and on the fourth step from the bottom, he lost his footing and tumbled the rest of the way down.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

TBC