Will's POV
"I'm sorry it's so early." I sighed
"Never apologize for coming to me, Will. Office hours are for patients. My kitchen is always open to friends." Dr. Lecter handed me a cup of coffee he'd just poured. "Onset of sleepwalking in adulthood is less common than in children."
"Could it be a seizure?" I asked.
"I'd argue good old-fashioned post traumatic stress. Jack Crawford has gotten your hands very dirty."
"I wasn't forced back in the field." I argued back.
"I wouldn't say forced." He corrected. "Manipulated would be the word I'd choose."
"I can handle it."
"Somewhere between denying horrible events and calling them out lies the truth of psychological trauma." He said
"So, I can't handle it?"
"Your experience may've overwhelmed ordinary functions that give you a sense of control."
"If my body is walking around without my permission, you'd say that's a loss of control?" I asked.
"Wouldn't you?"
I suppose he has a point.
"Sleepwalkers demonstrate a difficulty handling aggression." He continued. "Are you experiencing difficulty with aggressive feelings?"
"You said Jack sees me as fine china used for special guests. I'm beginning to feel more like an old mug."
"You entered into a Devil's Bargain with Jack Crawford. Takes a toll."
"Jack's not the devil." I corrected.
"When it comes to how far he's willing to push you to get what he wants, Jack's certainly no saint."
The dogs all rushed to greet me, as per usual, when I came in through the front door.
The living room had been unoccupied, yet Joan's laptop was left open on the couch.
I normally wouldn't have paid attention to what was on its screen when I moved it to the coffee table, as to avoid any of the dogs accidentally laying on or trampling over it, except that it was open to .
Joan was coming back in with some chips, just after I had set it down.
"Hey, Dad. Didn't know you were back yet."
"Probably because I just got here." I answered.
She chuckled and went to return to her spot on the couch.
"What were you doing on Tattle Crime?" I asked curiously, reaching for the dogs' leashes.
She looked, briefly, back up from her laptop. "Bad FBI habit, looking at personal internet activities, don't you think?"
"Sorry, it wasn't intentional." I explained. "I just meant to move it out of the way, so that the dogs wouldn't step on it."
"It's okay if you were." She chuckled. "It wasn't anything private, just a little research for a Supernatural fanfiction I'm working on."
"Fanfiction?"
She chuckled again. "Fan written stories based on existing shows, movies, etcetera."
"I see."
Winston was looking up at me, after I'd stood back up, and whining impatiently to go out.
"Got a few spare minutes to join us?" I offered.
She half smiled. "I suppose this is just a good a pausing place as any."
"Well, I mean...I don't want to interrupt you if you were in the middle of something."
She shrugged, closing the computer to stand back up. "I was going to wrap it up soon anyway."
We let the dogs off leash to run around freely as we walked, watching them as we went.
Joan seemed to keep a particularly suspicious eye on me, while I was starting to become lost in thought. Her voice, becoming seemingly more distant as I spaced out…
The blindingly bright headlights of the cops' car, in the middle of the night
"Do you have a history of sleepwalking, Mr. Graham?"
"I'm not even sure if I'm awake now."
Standing outside the doorway, wearing nothing but my shirt and boxers, in front of Joan who had just been made painfully aware that her father had to have a police escort home because the nightmares and the sleepwalking had gotten THAT bad.
Joan's voice was closer, louder again, as I began to snap back out of it.
"DAD!" There was a new level of concern in her tone.
"What?"
"Well, I guess that answers my question." She sighed.
"What question?"
"Well, it was originally slightly more sarcastic in intention." She admitted. "But now I'm thinking there might be a need for more genuine concern with it."
"What was it?"
I asked if you were still getting used to consciously walking." A dry chuckle, after that last part.
I nodded, still keeping an eye on the dogs. Buster seemed to be in hot pursuit of a squirrel.
"...Among other things."
She nodded back, tossing a ball for Sammy. "This is about you being out in the field, then?"
"How did you know about that?"
"Fanfiction research wasn't exactly the only thing I found on that site today." She answered, leaning down to Sammy as he so proudly came prancing back with the ball that had been thrown for him.
"I see."
I watched as she gently took the ball back from Sammy's grip, tossing it again for him and watching him bound happily after it, just as excitedly if not more so the second time.
"Is that why you were sleepwalking last night?"
"Because I somehow knew what you would find on Tattle Crime today?" I attempted to joke.
That made her genuinely chuckle for a moment. "The other thing."
She picked up a nearby stick, noticing that Winston was becoming jealous of the attention that Sammy was getting, and tossed it for him. He took after it just as happily.
"I suppose it played a part." I admitted
Winston was already back, stick in his mouth, waiting for Joan to toss it again. I tossed the ball for Sammy, this time.
"Is that really what you think?" She asked. "Or what your so called not a friend thinks?"
Winston decided he wanted me to the stick thrower this time. I obliged.
"He might've been the one to suggest it."
She didn't say anything to that, just picked the ball back up for Sammy, resuming her role as the ball thrower.
"You're suspicious of him." More of a statement than a question.
"He gave me a weird vibe when he was at the door the other day." She answered. "You're not?"
She gave Sammy a little head scratch before throwing the ball again, this time around.
"No, I am." I admitted.
"And yet you're still going to see him again?" she didn't wait long for an answer before continuing. "...Just be careful with him."
I tossed the stick, once again, for Winston...who reluctantly let me take it this time.
"And you try not to worry too much about it."