Plateau, Part 7
Mar. 15th, 2026 04:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
The Dead Zone
Chapter Summary: Johnny and Walt have one last conversation in the unconscious world...
Word Count: 855
Rating: Teen
Rewrite of Descent/Ascent
Pre-Johnny/Sarah/Walt
For a little while, it feels like a wall. They stop getting in, they stop seeing anything, but John also isn’t dying, at least, not any faster than usual, so they keep trying. It’s Bruce that gets through first this time, and it takes Walt a while to get anything. If that had been how all this started out, he wouldn’t worry because it’d be what he expected, but the fact that he’d been making progress only to get shut out has him angry, now. He’s good at channeling that into his work, though, and that’s how he takes it, just another case, even though it involves, well. A coworker? A pain in the ass? A rival? Somebody he could’ve been pretty close friends with, under any less screwed up circumstances? Whatever the case, he’s not giving up on this one until John comes home.
He finds John at the school, staring out the window, the very picture of melancholy. Walt joins him wordlessly, glancing outside, and what he sees scares him. There’s something white outside, consuming everything, and that’s what people say after near-death experiences, isn’t it? Something about going to the light. Maybe that light is a good thing, maybe there’s nothing to be afraid of, but Walt sure isn’t ready to let the psychic go and he’s hardly the only one.
“See that, out there, it scares me.” John uses the handle of his cane to point to the light, the destruction. “I never really believed… Maybe that’s why I was in the coma so long; I was too scared to stay and too scared to leave.” Johnny’s tone is worrying, though. It’s distant, like when he’s in the middle of one of his visions and not even present, but Walt’s heard it before, and not from John. From a jumper he’d had to try to coax off a roof.
“That why you don’t want to see her? Because she’ll talk you out of this? I’ve got news for you, buddy, she’s not the only one.” This is their last chance.
“She could talk me into anything,” John whispers. He’s smiling through the tears.
“So, she still called the shots even when you weren’t in a coma,” Walt jokes, and John actually forgets his thing about touching to lightly shove Walt’s shoulder.
“Screw you, man,” he mutters, but he’s actually laughing again, and this time it’s nothing but genuine. His eyes unfocus slightly as he freezes, which is a sure sign of a vision. He still gets those in here, it seems, which is deeply unfair—Johnny Smith can’t ever catch a break. And then he continues, gently, tentatively, “...I’m sorry for sleeping with Sarah.”
Walt winces. That does explain the self-destructive guilt. Which is probably connected with the outside, because there’s a rumble and the ground shakes like they’re getting an earthquake and John loses his balance and falls on his ass. “Still not worth killing yourself over, John.”
John blinks, nothing but confused, and then repeats himself, like he wasn’t quite sure Walt had heard. “I had sex with your wife.”
“I heard you the first time. I’m—sure, I’m upset about it, but you said it yourself. It was premeditated for Sarah. I actually caught her thinking about it. You went along with it. Sure, you should have turned her away, but I am a sheriff and can put some of these pieces together.” And frame it in terms of a crime, because that’s how his mind works, even if it doesn’t necessarily make sense to assign blame like this in his own daily life. He breathes out long and slow, because this is absolutely not the conversation he wants to be having with Johnny and maybe that’s why it has to happen. “More than anything, I’m mad that the two of you thought I didn’t know. I’m mad that no one bothered to talk to me about it.”
John looks uncertain. “You...wanted me to ask permission?” His voice is just the right amount of bewildered, because it matches Walt’s reaction when he’d had the realization in the first place.
“It sounds stupid, but yeah.” Walt shrugs. “I still didn’t have a choice in any of it. I know that. But if I’d given the two of you permission, it’d make me feel like I had some sort of control over the situation. Like I have some say in what happens in my life.”
John weights that, shivering. “It’d be easier if I was gone.”
But Walt hears that hint of hope in the man’s voice and knows that this is it. John’s coming down from the metaphorical ledge. “Yeah, probably, but if I wanted easy, I wouldn’t have gone into law enforcement. I am telling you, I want you in our lives.”
For the first time since they’d gotten here, John glances up and really sees him, blue eyes open and vulnerable, for once.
He holds out his hand, and John hesitates for only a moment, and then takes it, letting Walt help him up, and the world fading around them this time tastes of nothing but relief.
The Dead Zone
Chapter Summary: Johnny and Walt have one last conversation in the unconscious world...
Word Count: 855
Rating: Teen
Rewrite of Descent/Ascent
Pre-Johnny/Sarah/Walt
For a little while, it feels like a wall. They stop getting in, they stop seeing anything, but John also isn’t dying, at least, not any faster than usual, so they keep trying. It’s Bruce that gets through first this time, and it takes Walt a while to get anything. If that had been how all this started out, he wouldn’t worry because it’d be what he expected, but the fact that he’d been making progress only to get shut out has him angry, now. He’s good at channeling that into his work, though, and that’s how he takes it, just another case, even though it involves, well. A coworker? A pain in the ass? A rival? Somebody he could’ve been pretty close friends with, under any less screwed up circumstances? Whatever the case, he’s not giving up on this one until John comes home.
He finds John at the school, staring out the window, the very picture of melancholy. Walt joins him wordlessly, glancing outside, and what he sees scares him. There’s something white outside, consuming everything, and that’s what people say after near-death experiences, isn’t it? Something about going to the light. Maybe that light is a good thing, maybe there’s nothing to be afraid of, but Walt sure isn’t ready to let the psychic go and he’s hardly the only one.
“See that, out there, it scares me.” John uses the handle of his cane to point to the light, the destruction. “I never really believed… Maybe that’s why I was in the coma so long; I was too scared to stay and too scared to leave.” Johnny’s tone is worrying, though. It’s distant, like when he’s in the middle of one of his visions and not even present, but Walt’s heard it before, and not from John. From a jumper he’d had to try to coax off a roof.
“That why you don’t want to see her? Because she’ll talk you out of this? I’ve got news for you, buddy, she’s not the only one.” This is their last chance.
“She could talk me into anything,” John whispers. He’s smiling through the tears.
“So, she still called the shots even when you weren’t in a coma,” Walt jokes, and John actually forgets his thing about touching to lightly shove Walt’s shoulder.
“Screw you, man,” he mutters, but he’s actually laughing again, and this time it’s nothing but genuine. His eyes unfocus slightly as he freezes, which is a sure sign of a vision. He still gets those in here, it seems, which is deeply unfair—Johnny Smith can’t ever catch a break. And then he continues, gently, tentatively, “...I’m sorry for sleeping with Sarah.”
Walt winces. That does explain the self-destructive guilt. Which is probably connected with the outside, because there’s a rumble and the ground shakes like they’re getting an earthquake and John loses his balance and falls on his ass. “Still not worth killing yourself over, John.”
John blinks, nothing but confused, and then repeats himself, like he wasn’t quite sure Walt had heard. “I had sex with your wife.”
“I heard you the first time. I’m—sure, I’m upset about it, but you said it yourself. It was premeditated for Sarah. I actually caught her thinking about it. You went along with it. Sure, you should have turned her away, but I am a sheriff and can put some of these pieces together.” And frame it in terms of a crime, because that’s how his mind works, even if it doesn’t necessarily make sense to assign blame like this in his own daily life. He breathes out long and slow, because this is absolutely not the conversation he wants to be having with Johnny and maybe that’s why it has to happen. “More than anything, I’m mad that the two of you thought I didn’t know. I’m mad that no one bothered to talk to me about it.”
John looks uncertain. “You...wanted me to ask permission?” His voice is just the right amount of bewildered, because it matches Walt’s reaction when he’d had the realization in the first place.
“It sounds stupid, but yeah.” Walt shrugs. “I still didn’t have a choice in any of it. I know that. But if I’d given the two of you permission, it’d make me feel like I had some sort of control over the situation. Like I have some say in what happens in my life.”
John weights that, shivering. “It’d be easier if I was gone.”
But Walt hears that hint of hope in the man’s voice and knows that this is it. John’s coming down from the metaphorical ledge. “Yeah, probably, but if I wanted easy, I wouldn’t have gone into law enforcement. I am telling you, I want you in our lives.”
For the first time since they’d gotten here, John glances up and really sees him, blue eyes open and vulnerable, for once.
He holds out his hand, and John hesitates for only a moment, and then takes it, letting Walt help him up, and the world fading around them this time tastes of nothing but relief.
