Switchback, Part 7
Oct. 25th, 2026 11:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerJohnny’s probably just taking painkillers on a flare-up. Bruce would like to have him on one of the antidepressants specifically prescribed in cases of nerve pain, but those would be something you take daily and Johnny stubbornly doesn’t want to admit he needs to take medication daily.
Johnny’s misreading some of this, but he’s kind of oblivious sometimes.
Main Points:
The Dead Zone, Switchback
Chapter Summary: Walt and Johnny have that talk.
Word Count: 1820
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Pre-Johnny/Sarah/Walt
Johnny startles awake.
“Didn’t sleep well, huh? Here.”
He’s halfway through the glass of water before he realizes it is a glass of water and that’s Walt. It’s not until he finishes the glass and hands it back to Walt tiredly that he realizes something else, too—he’s not wearing his jeans or jacket anymore, and he’s tucked in on one of the beds, not in the chairs. And Walt has a nice growing bruise on his face, and Johnny instantly feels a pang of guilt even though he knows he probably doesn’t look too much better.
Something about the confusion must show on his face, because Walt just shrugs. “I figured you’d have a better chance of actually staying put and sleeping the rest of the night if you were more comfortable. There’s breakfast when you’re ready, and I called Bruce and he swung by with your pain meds. Since you didn’t pack them. He would’ve stayed, but he would’ve had to cancel a few appointments and I had the feeling you’re already sick of people fussing over you.”
It’s not a vision, though maybe it’d be a relief from all the nightmares. Then again, maybe not, because actually being JJ would be all kinds of weird, and as much as Johnny experiences weird on a daily basis, that’s a step too far even for him. But apparently he’d been pathetic enough last night to activate Walt’s dad caretaker instincts, and that’s disturbingly easy to picture. Maybe he would actually like to talk about the nightmares instead.
“I hate being in a killer’s mind,” he complains, noting with a yawn that Walt thoughtfully wasn’t pushing for him to eat right away, having seen the side effects enough to know that he might be a little nauseous after that. “It might be a couple minutes before I’m up for eating.”
He takes the painkillers, trying and failing to hold back the grimace, and downs them with water.
“He also said that if these aren’t working you should talk to him and he can work something out with your doctor,” Walt adds. He’s watching Johnny closely. It makes sense, though, with Johnny just running off and doing his own thing rather than following Walt’s lead. He’s probably less trustworthy like this.
“It makes me feel fuzzy,” he admits. He hates talking about this, about how he’s more burden than man sometimes, these days, but maybe if he tells Walt the truth here he can earn back a little of the trust he’d lost. “Messes with the visions, too.”
Walt shows a moment of surprise before he reels that back, like when he’s interrogating his suspects. “Wait, so when you’d been looking for a solution and accidentally lost your powers briefly—”
“It doesn’t work like that, unfortunately. It’s more like—there’s a TV on in the other room, and you can’t make it out, but you can’t change the channel or turn it off, either.” Plus, he’d been a little worried he’d get addicted to the feeling of not having to worry about touching the wrong thing, just a taste of normal.
“Oh. That has to be pretty annoying.” There it is again, sympathy. It’s going to startle Johnny every time.
“Yeah.” He swallows. His appetite might be coming back a little if not for the fact that he’s suddenly realizing they haven’t had that talk. “Walt, I’m sorry.”
Walt just shakes his head. He’s smiling just a little, even as his eyes narrow. “Again, no need to apologize for some creep. Sure, the timing sucks, but if I was going to arrest you for that kind of thing I would’ve done it back when you first met and started talking crazy. I’m not proud of myself for it, but I was looking for an excuse back then. It’s a resource on the table and I’m sure it’s not fun for you, but it helps close cases. That matters.”
He turns away to go rummage through Johnny’s bag to find his change of clothes and just shakes his head when he pulls them out and they’re just an identical set. Which, what can Johnny say, he knows what he likes. “That, and if I had any question about whether it was really you, the ‘whore’ thing was a dead giveaway. You’d never call Sarah that. I’ve heard you do this a hundred times and I can’t say that it gets easier. I’ve gotten used to it, I guess, but I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well and you’re a pretty good guy. I can tell the difference, even when you can’t.”
Weirdly enough, that actually helps. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Anytime you need reminding, I can help.” He moves on, but it’s not because he doesn’t mean every word, because Walt’s not that kind of guy, either. “Circling back along those lines, you said ‘killer’.”
It’s not as crystal clear, and it’s hard to know if that’s just because most of the visions hadn’t gotten that far or because the painkillers are starting to kick in. Walt doesn’t push, and eventually Johnny just shakes his head. “I don’t know. He’d been planning on it, but I don’t know if it went to plan.” He considers that for a moment and then adds, “...Actually, no, I do. At least some of it didn’t. Thomas—that’s our stalker—didn’t plan on the storm and he didn’t plan on Robert—German—on being there. He’d thought about everything else, over and over again, starting the fire to smoke them out, what he’d do to Donna when he had her at his mercy, that bitch—”
Walt’s hand is on his. They’re not holding hands, but despite the light touch and hesitant look in Walt’s eyes, he hadn’t just gone with a hand on the arm. Usually he’s careful about touching Johnny, probably wanting to keep some of his thoughts and memories to himself, but he didn’t bother this time, going straight for what he thought would help the most.
“Stay with me, John.” Walt’s voice is a lot calmer than Johnny would expect. Then again Johnny has the vague, fuzzy impression Walt’s using his training to ensure he can serve as a sturdy foundation for Johnny.
“He wasn’t sure whether he’d kill Donna. He had a basement he was planning on keeping her in. He was going to kill Linda, but when depended on how things played out. It’d be easier to deal with one than two, but maybe she’d be more useful as a hostage to get Donna to cooperate.” Johnny’s still shaking a little, but it’s better with Walt there. Which is maybe why Walt doesn’t pull his hand back immediately. Letting Johnny just absorb the comfort and normalcy. He’s good at reading people.
“You’re not the only one who’s actually been productive. I made some calls this morning and it turns out that the rangers have some useful records. They found more signs of a fire having been started next to the cabin rather than in the designated fire pit and were going to fine Donna Nelson and Linda Parker, only then the disappearance took priority.” Concrete evidence backing up what Johnny’s found, in other words.
It’s always nice getting to see this happen. “Sounds like your case is coming together.”
Walt corrects him. “Our case, John. Ready to get dressed and have some breakfast now?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” He’s still a little tired, but given the night he had that’s only fair.
Walt nods and pulls away, getting up to start plating eggs and pancakes and sausage. He adds one final thing conversationally. “Sarah doesn’t hear about this. She was against this trip in the first place. She didn’t think we’d get along. And now both of us will be returning in worse shape than we left.”
It doesn’t take Johnny long to think about that. “Agreed. I can keep a secret.”
Johnny’s misreading some of this, but he’s kind of oblivious sometimes.
Main Points:
The Dead Zone, Switchback
Chapter Summary: Walt and Johnny have that talk.
Word Count: 1820
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Pre-Johnny/Sarah/Walt
Johnny startles awake.
“Didn’t sleep well, huh? Here.”
He’s halfway through the glass of water before he realizes it is a glass of water and that’s Walt. It’s not until he finishes the glass and hands it back to Walt tiredly that he realizes something else, too—he’s not wearing his jeans or jacket anymore, and he’s tucked in on one of the beds, not in the chairs. And Walt has a nice growing bruise on his face, and Johnny instantly feels a pang of guilt even though he knows he probably doesn’t look too much better.
Something about the confusion must show on his face, because Walt just shrugs. “I figured you’d have a better chance of actually staying put and sleeping the rest of the night if you were more comfortable. There’s breakfast when you’re ready, and I called Bruce and he swung by with your pain meds. Since you didn’t pack them. He would’ve stayed, but he would’ve had to cancel a few appointments and I had the feeling you’re already sick of people fussing over you.”
It’s not a vision, though maybe it’d be a relief from all the nightmares. Then again, maybe not, because actually being JJ would be all kinds of weird, and as much as Johnny experiences weird on a daily basis, that’s a step too far even for him. But apparently he’d been pathetic enough last night to activate Walt’s dad caretaker instincts, and that’s disturbingly easy to picture. Maybe he would actually like to talk about the nightmares instead.
“I hate being in a killer’s mind,” he complains, noting with a yawn that Walt thoughtfully wasn’t pushing for him to eat right away, having seen the side effects enough to know that he might be a little nauseous after that. “It might be a couple minutes before I’m up for eating.”
He takes the painkillers, trying and failing to hold back the grimace, and downs them with water.
“He also said that if these aren’t working you should talk to him and he can work something out with your doctor,” Walt adds. He’s watching Johnny closely. It makes sense, though, with Johnny just running off and doing his own thing rather than following Walt’s lead. He’s probably less trustworthy like this.
“It makes me feel fuzzy,” he admits. He hates talking about this, about how he’s more burden than man sometimes, these days, but maybe if he tells Walt the truth here he can earn back a little of the trust he’d lost. “Messes with the visions, too.”
Walt shows a moment of surprise before he reels that back, like when he’s interrogating his suspects. “Wait, so when you’d been looking for a solution and accidentally lost your powers briefly—”
“It doesn’t work like that, unfortunately. It’s more like—there’s a TV on in the other room, and you can’t make it out, but you can’t change the channel or turn it off, either.” Plus, he’d been a little worried he’d get addicted to the feeling of not having to worry about touching the wrong thing, just a taste of normal.
“Oh. That has to be pretty annoying.” There it is again, sympathy. It’s going to startle Johnny every time.
“Yeah.” He swallows. His appetite might be coming back a little if not for the fact that he’s suddenly realizing they haven’t had that talk. “Walt, I’m sorry.”
Walt just shakes his head. He’s smiling just a little, even as his eyes narrow. “Again, no need to apologize for some creep. Sure, the timing sucks, but if I was going to arrest you for that kind of thing I would’ve done it back when you first met and started talking crazy. I’m not proud of myself for it, but I was looking for an excuse back then. It’s a resource on the table and I’m sure it’s not fun for you, but it helps close cases. That matters.”
He turns away to go rummage through Johnny’s bag to find his change of clothes and just shakes his head when he pulls them out and they’re just an identical set. Which, what can Johnny say, he knows what he likes. “That, and if I had any question about whether it was really you, the ‘whore’ thing was a dead giveaway. You’d never call Sarah that. I’ve heard you do this a hundred times and I can’t say that it gets easier. I’ve gotten used to it, I guess, but I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well and you’re a pretty good guy. I can tell the difference, even when you can’t.”
Weirdly enough, that actually helps. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Anytime you need reminding, I can help.” He moves on, but it’s not because he doesn’t mean every word, because Walt’s not that kind of guy, either. “Circling back along those lines, you said ‘killer’.”
It’s not as crystal clear, and it’s hard to know if that’s just because most of the visions hadn’t gotten that far or because the painkillers are starting to kick in. Walt doesn’t push, and eventually Johnny just shakes his head. “I don’t know. He’d been planning on it, but I don’t know if it went to plan.” He considers that for a moment and then adds, “...Actually, no, I do. At least some of it didn’t. Thomas—that’s our stalker—didn’t plan on the storm and he didn’t plan on Robert—German—on being there. He’d thought about everything else, over and over again, starting the fire to smoke them out, what he’d do to Donna when he had her at his mercy, that bitch—”
Walt’s hand is on his. They’re not holding hands, but despite the light touch and hesitant look in Walt’s eyes, he hadn’t just gone with a hand on the arm. Usually he’s careful about touching Johnny, probably wanting to keep some of his thoughts and memories to himself, but he didn’t bother this time, going straight for what he thought would help the most.
“Stay with me, John.” Walt’s voice is a lot calmer than Johnny would expect. Then again Johnny has the vague, fuzzy impression Walt’s using his training to ensure he can serve as a sturdy foundation for Johnny.
“He wasn’t sure whether he’d kill Donna. He had a basement he was planning on keeping her in. He was going to kill Linda, but when depended on how things played out. It’d be easier to deal with one than two, but maybe she’d be more useful as a hostage to get Donna to cooperate.” Johnny’s still shaking a little, but it’s better with Walt there. Which is maybe why Walt doesn’t pull his hand back immediately. Letting Johnny just absorb the comfort and normalcy. He’s good at reading people.
“You’re not the only one who’s actually been productive. I made some calls this morning and it turns out that the rangers have some useful records. They found more signs of a fire having been started next to the cabin rather than in the designated fire pit and were going to fine Donna Nelson and Linda Parker, only then the disappearance took priority.” Concrete evidence backing up what Johnny’s found, in other words.
It’s always nice getting to see this happen. “Sounds like your case is coming together.”
Walt corrects him. “Our case, John. Ready to get dressed and have some breakfast now?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” He’s still a little tired, but given the night he had that’s only fair.
Walt nods and pulls away, getting up to start plating eggs and pancakes and sausage. He adds one final thing conversationally. “Sarah doesn’t hear about this. She was against this trip in the first place. She didn’t think we’d get along. And now both of us will be returning in worse shape than we left.”
It doesn’t take Johnny long to think about that. “Agreed. I can keep a secret.”
