I'll Cover You

By Clarity Scifiroots
Regular disclaimers apply.
Fandom/Characters: Dana, Bruce, Johnny (implied Bruce/Johnny...if you wear slash glasses)
Spoilers: General series overall, should know at least through season three
Rated: FRT
Summary: Bruce never falters in his belief in Johnny. To what lengths is he willing to go in order to save the psychic from himself?
May!fic 6 of 31
Also for "ends justify the means" prompt of philosophy20

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He didn't ask me, but I did it.

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Curiosity piqued, Dana uses her nail to open the envelope's flap. The return address simply reads "Cleaves' Mills, Maine."

The doctors have all said the same thing: he probably needs surgery.

The single sheet of paper within is typed, single-spaced, double-sided, and formally arranged. Her brow creases in puzzlement when she sees the named signed after "Sincerely."

Unsurprisingly, he says no even to exploratory surgery.

She reads the first paragraph and discovers a rushed medical history she had previously not heard. She pauses to wonder why she is being informed.

He says he'll chance dying over losing the visions. I tried arguing with him.

Dana closes her eyes a moment and takes a calming breath. Anything having to do with the psychic Johnny Smith is complicated. She's still in the spell of his charm, but she's realistic and also wary of the uproar surrounding the man.

I've argued for two years, Dana. He's stubborn enough to deny it and ignore the signs. But this is going to kill him. If not his brain... his obsession has taken over his life.

Emotion flows from the printed words. Dana runs a trembling finger over the text, feeling as if she can channel the love and despair.

He rarely asks for help. No one else recognizes the signs, so I've stuck close. It helps that I seem to have some immunity to his touch. When he does see something from me, I can feel it. So I know he hasn't seen what I'm going to do.

"Jesus," she breathes, eyes scanning quickly ahead. The floor drops out from under her.

He won't ever ask. And if he won't, I know he'll do it himself. I had a vision myself, once, and in it John took that final step. I don't think he actually knows how to use a gun. He shouldn't. I don't want him to have a need to. I never wanted to know... but I do. I think I've known since I first saw that possibility that this was coming.

Dana curses loudly as she frantically searches for her cell phone.

John is too good. I can't just sit by, watch him die. And I can't let him die because people don't realize that his actions are meant to save the world. Maybe I'm foolish, but I trust him. I've never been able to truly doubt anything he says. So I know what I have to do.

She sticks her feet into the first pair of shoes she comes across. Her fingers are jabbing at numbers, trying to dial the right number while juggling keys. No time to lock the door, forget the jacket—just get out, in the car. Drive and make the call! She thinks, He'll never forgive you for being so stupid!

We've had our problems. I think we've both been jealous of the other. At least I know you care. I know you're building a life for yourself. You have a life of your own now, with new people, new goals... I'm sorry for being selfish. I have a favor to ask of you. I need you to be there. I don't know when the news will come out, but you need to be with him as soon as possible. You love him, once you loved him like I do. He always did keep an eye on you.

"God damn foolish son of a bitch!" Dana resists the urge to hurl her cell at the windshield. Fucking voice mail. Where the hell is he? "You selfish bastard," she curses, changing to a different number, knowing now that she will probably never reach the first.

Let him know he's not alone, never has been. Sometimes he just won't believe me. Well, I hope the weight of the world is taken off his shoulders. I know you'll be cursing me for years to come. Yes, he will blame himself. I only hope you both will come to realize that this is my decision. I've thought about it longer than I can easily admit. This isn't some errant thought.

Dana doesn't know how she manages to drive without event, she's totally preoccupied with her rushing thoughts and the voice on the other end of the line. They haven't heard anything yet, Walt says, and he keeps asking her questions. She's giving him one more minute before she hangs up and calls Johnny.

Keep him safe. Convince him to have the surgery. I can't bear watching him die. He didn't ask me, but I'm doing it anyway. There's no more need to worry about whether or not the visions will stay.

When he stresses about this, remind him of all the lives he's already saved. Remind him of the people he has touched, and made them believe. Tell him I want to free him from this monumental burden, because the world is more than one man can carry.

She cuts Walt off mid-sentence and punches in the speed dial for Johnny. She doesn't use it often, but she has it programmed just in case. As she listens to the rings she realizes that her vision is blurring.

I will do anything for him. I once swore I would lay down my life before taking his—no matter what he became. Now he never will become what he fears.

I'm sorry for the mess this makes. I don't know what to tell you to expect. I'm sorry for putting all of this on you, Dana. It's not fair, but I can't bring myself to appeal to Walt and Sarah, and I don't trust anyone else.

Take care of yourself, Dana. Love him like I never could. Support him through this.

Sincerely,

Bruce Lewis

"Bruce?" Johnny's voice is sharp and full of panic.

Dana swallows the urge to cry. "Johnny? What do you know?"

Silence from the other end of the line.

"What did he tell you?" he whispers.

Dana grips the steering wheel tighter. "Do you know where he is?"

"Portland."

They both know why. "Have you... Has there been any news?"

His silence is enough of an answer. She struggles to comprehend what Walt wouldn't know. Then again, maybe something has come through in the two minutes since her previous call.

"I'm on my way up, Johnny. I'm already on '95. I'll be there as soon as I can. Could you give Sara a call? Or should I call Walt for you?"

He doesn't respond to that. Her throat feels tight as she listens to the sound of strangled curses and harsh breathing.

"I never—" he hisses at one point.

She feels the tears finally spill onto her cheeks. "I know..." she whispers.

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He didn't ask me, but I did it.

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