Volume 2

Volume 2.

I.

After he had gone into the bathroom and washed off the sweat that had made his flesh sticky, he sat in front of the television and watched for a report of a fiery car accident. Luckily, as he watched throughout the night the report did not come. 
Minutes passed, hours even, until the rushed sound of feet could be heard on the wooden porch. This startled him, and quickly his eyes were on the door that sounded with repeated, constant knocks. Panicked knocks. Pleading knocks. Knocks turned quickly into hits, and then into violent pounding against the wood of the door. As quickly as he could move, he forced his feet to the door and opened it until he saw her. Her hair was astray from where it had perfectly sat, and her face was flushed with sweat, though it was smeared gently with blood and dirt. Quickly he looked her up and down, her clothes were in a mess, even torn at some places, and her feet were bloody and cut from her heels-- she must have ran very far, and very fast. One heel had even broken somewhere, and the shoe hung around her ankle by the strap. He looked at her with eyes wide.
"Dawn,"
She cut him off as she stumbled forward, breathless. "Johnny, I..," The words were merely breaths, and she had only set a foot in the door until she collapsed completely,  and fell limp to unconsciousness. 
"Dawn!" 
His reflexes acted quickly, and he caught her as she fell against him, though his legs weakened and crumpled under him, pulling him to his knees with the limp, bloody girl held in his arms. "Dad! Dad!" He called, voice booming and echoing through the house, horrified as he held her from the floor, though she wouldn't wake. Herb Smith's footsteps sounded rushed as he flew down the stairs, blindsided by the sight of his boy, holding the girl in his arms. "John!"
Johnny looked up at him, eyes wide "Help, please. I can't lift her, call Sam, I-- I don't know what happened."
He did know what happened. As soon as he touched her he knew, he could see. 

 Breathless, sore, so scared.. It was dark, he got her into an alley. He over powered her, used his strength against her. He was a brute; a big burly man with dark facial hair. His eyes seemed they would be gentle, perhaps they were when he didn't drink. He grabbed her by her shoulders and slammed her against a wall,
"Alright doll, you're going to listen, and do what I say! Now shut the f**k up," He snarled, grabbing her and trying to rip free her clothing. His hand cupped her breast. She whimpered quietly, still thrashing. "No, no! Look, what are you doin-- doing? Hey, look.." Alcohol slurred her words, her mind. This wasn't right, he wasn't like this. What was he doing? What caused this? What did she do? She hit his chest, hard enough to confuse him. He backed away very briefly before he grabbed her by the hair, "You b***h." and caused her to scream out-- 
Something blurred out, but soon the vision was clear again. It was in the dead zone.
She was running now, running, running and crying. Her feet screamed, but she couldn't stop. If she stopped, he'd catch her and he'd hurt her. He hadn't taken her, she'd done something.. It was in the dead zone. She was running and running, never stopped running. Her heel broke, and she stumbled and fell in the dirt but she ran and ran, feet slipping in patches of muddy earth. Johnny's house is safe, it's safe there, he's safe.. Get somewhere safe, quickly and don't stop running. Her vision was a blur, her arms hurt and her legs hurt, and her head hurt -- it pounded and pounded with every beat of her chest but still she ran. Up the drive way, onto the porch. Safe now.. She was safe. 

 Herb had managed to get her upstairs and into Johnny's bed while John called Sam Weizak, there was no used taking her to a hospital-- it was so expensive-- when Sam could come. She had to get three stitches on her shoulder, and though her feet and ankles bled terribly they would heal. Sam and Johnny worked with wet rags to clean off the places that were cut so that they wouldn't infect. 
Bruises were plentiful, and Sam promised to bring her medicine upon the morning. She hadn't woken until Sam's leaving, when Johnny sat comfortably in a chair by the window in his room with her. When she came to, at first she didn't speak-- only looked around with wide eyes until she figured out where she was and settled. 
A gentle pained moan eased from her chest, and she moved her hand only to cover her face-- she hadn't yet noticed him until she looked around again. His name scratched from her mouth, pain was clear within it-- along with possible tears as he looked over at her and frowned, not moving until she held out her hand. 

"Johnny.." 
He stood, before going to sit on the bedside next to her. 
"Hey there.." He tried to smile, though it was a weak attempt. He looked at where her skin wasn't hidden underneath the covers -- so many bruises, and still a bit of dried blood was crusted over her flesh. 
He stifled out a chuckle, "You look a whole hot mess, dahlin'." He said gently, receiving the type of reaction he had wanted, a gentle giggle rang out from her. A smile curved on the corners of his mouth, but it didn't hide the worry in his piercing blue hues as he took her hand and held it tenderly. 
Almost instantaneously, they both grew quiet and remembered what happened before she left. Looking away from one another, the air grew awkwardly nervous, but she was the first to speak though quietly.

"I'm sorry, Johnny. I am, I shouldn't have--"
He cut her off, looking down at her while his thumb indomitably began to run back and forth against the back of her hand.
"Don't, Dawn, it's okay. Just rest now, hmm?" He tried to smile again, though it was again a pathetic action. Quickly he looked down at where his hand would hold her's, and with hesitation he would let it go before returning to his seat by the window. 
She watched him curiously, though she didn't again try to apologize. "Why do you sit over there, as so?" she asked quietly, drawing his eyes to her again. 
With a gentle laugh from him, only to lighten the mood, he shrugged. 
"I don't feel like going the whole way downstairs. My uh, my legs are sore so I.. I'll just sit here for the night, perhaps I'll turn on the TV or something later."
He nodded to the screen in front of the bed, up atop one of the dressers. With a reassuring smile, John would go back to looking out of the window -- holding his cane against the inside of his thigh whilst he played gently with the edge of his soft, red sweater. 
She continued to look at him, never pulling her eyes away. Johnny spoke quietly then, glancing at her. "Am I.. Are you uncomfortable? I won't stay."
She was quick to object, "No no, it's okay." Her voice cracked slightly, and she had to swallow hard before he nodded to the end table next to the bed, 
"There's a glass of water there if you need it,"
She took the glass graciously, and drank some down before she sighed in relief and then put it back. "Thank you." 
He nodded, smiling slightly with a shrug as he whispered to her. "Sure." Again, his eyes drifted out the window. She didn't astray from him.
A silence crossed the room, for a long while until she again spoke. "Why don't you come lie down, Johnny? It can't be comfortable sitting up like that and trying to sleep."
His head shot up from where it had begun to drift to the side, and he looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. She smiled slightly, "I won't bite you, you know."
A sense of nervousness drifted about the room. It was indeed not the most comfortable thing in the world, sitting up this way for so long, but there was a part of him that restricted being so close with her in vain.. Suddenly he began to think of Sarah, "Dawn, I.."
"If you don't want to, Johnny, it's fine. It's not life or death."
Again the room grew silent. It stayed this way for an uncomfortably long period before he would sigh quietly and look over at her; his gaze was gentle, as it always was. After a moment, as if she had felt his eyes, she used an arm to pull the covers down beside her whilst her back was to him. Glancing back, she grinned tiredly, but humorously all the same. "I won't eat you."
His eyes drifted to the bruises forming on her arm, the one on her neck. The little cut across her collarbone. The places on her that had been bleeding would have stopped by now. He sighed quietly, and though his bottom had begun to grow numb, he fought the urge to lie down for the next few minutes until she had begun to drift to sleep.. Slowly he rose, switching off the lamp before climbing his way into the bed next to her, though he separated them by the blankets, and just ended up covering himself with a throw. She had turned, and was facing him. Though the sudden movement of the bed caused her eyes to flicker open, and she watched as he struggled to get settled. With an attempt to relax, he let out a deep breath from himself before he looked down at her, running the back of his knuckle gently across her cheek before letting his eyes close. He tensed up at the feeling of her shifting, as she moved and rested her head against the edge of his chest-- but he didn't move away. Only spoke softly,
"..Why here?" 
She answered quickly, and without hesitation "Because it was the first place I thought of.. The first place I thought of that I knew was safe-- and I didn't want to be alone." 
His eyes flickered open, only to stare up at the ceiling. For several moment he did this, stayed very still and stared upward at nothing. Sleep was rare now, unless it was filled with nightmares or memories. After a few moments, he let his eyes slowly shut -- and though he would lie there for a while, eventually sleep would overtake him under it's black cloak. 
No nightmares would come to haunt Johnny Smith that night. 

II.

Suddenly he would stir, and the darkness of sleep turned to the light of morning. Though John's eyes were closed, he could feel the light pouring in from the window and shining on his pale skin. With a gentle, protesting groan he would move a hand up to gently hold it against his brow. Taking a deep breath, he would open his eyes slowly and cautiously- quickly shutting them again with the brightness of the sun. He made a little unf noise before he would again open them, and glance around the room. At first it was difficult to believe that such events had happened last night; Had Dawn come here wounded? 
Had he foreseen her death, in a fiery car accident? With a glance at his side, he would see her. The bruises on her neck, and the position she held with her head resting on his chest as it had when he had fallen asleep would answer his question. Somehow during the night, he had wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 
Without wanting to wake her, John kept still for a while -- perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, but his legs began to ache terribly after that, and slowly he would rub his hand up and down her shoulder to wake her. Only enough, however, to get her to shift off of him and turn tail -- hiking the blankets up to her chin in an attempt to hold onto sleep for as long as she could. Of course, he was not offended by this as he was amused, as he slipped from the bed and grabbed his cane, from where it leaned against the chair that would have been his sleeping place for the night. 
John lurched with each step, and while his steps were naturally limped, he moved very gracefully. 
When he made his way to the kitchen, he met his father there -- reading the paper. With the sound of footsteps, likewise the ones that lurched so as his son's, Herb Smith moved the paper down from his eyes and looked at the man as he entered through the doorway, whom nodded a good morning and routinely went for his pill bottles and a glass of water. 
"Good morning, son." Herb said gently, watching as Johnny popped the medication into his mouth and swallowed it down. 
"Morning, dad."

Taking a seat at the kitchen table, Johnny leaned back and took in a deep breath. Soon enough his head began to pound -- gently at first, but the pain grew and grew. He pressed the palm of his hand firmly against his temple with a displeased sigh as the pain continued on mercilessly. With each pound of his heart, it felt as a sledgehammer was being slammed against the side of his head. Slowly, the pain died away then until it was no more and John lowered his hand, sitting back in his chair. 
"How did you sleep?" Herb's voice rang in his head for a moment, before John looked over and nodded
"I slept fine.." He hesitated, "No frights, for once."
Herb smiled, pleased. "Well, that's good. You're much past due for a goodnight's sleep, my boy." Slowly, the old man turned his attention back to where he had stopped reading, leaving Johnny nodding merely to himself and mumbling a "Sure," gently under his breath. 
He found himself gently playing with the cane that leaned against his thigh-- twirling it around between his fingers and looking at the dark wood. Never would he have thought he would be using such a thing. Never would he have thought that he would have been sleeping in the same bed as Dawn Edwards, with his arm around her and her head on his chest. 
Was he falling for this girl? For the golden-blonde haired, milky skinned female whom was one of the first people to see him awake after his coma. The girl that had become a dear friend, and saw him through all of his physical therapy -- all of his healing. The girl that saw him through his mother's death. She had seen his tears, and he had seen her blood. What an odd situation it was, to be thrown into thoughts such as these. In many ways, she knew him better than Sarah..
Sarah..
Quickly, he pushed the thought from his head; in time to hear gentle, cautious footsteps on the staircase. He rose to his feet, and without intention made his way over to assist her, concern shimmering in his hues as he took her arm and kept her from falling down the last few. "Easy there, you should have called for me."
Dawn looked at him, only to pull her mouth into a wide grin and giggle quietly. A bruise had formed surrounding a cut over her left eyebrow, but a smile still enlightened her face. 
"Thank you, Johnny, but I think I'm okay." 
Just as she said it, she stumbled and he grabbed onto her to quirk an eyebrow upward in a silent I told you so. 
"What do you need, Dawn?" he asked, his voice gentle. "Go back upstairs, I'll bring it to you."
She looked at him deviously, as if she had found a clever come-back somewhere in the files of her mind. "I need to get out of that bedroom. Let me go, would you? Don't worry so much."
He looked at her, eyebrows still narrowed in worry, though he obeyed her and released her elbow from his firm-but-gentle hold. 
Somewhere in the kitchen, Herb chuckled. She made her way out to the living room very carefully, before calling behind her.
"Plus, you shouldn't be going up and down stairs for me either. Your legs'll get sore."

After quickly throwing her hair up, she sunk into the couch -- a few locks still falling into her face, but she just blew them away and closed her eyes. 
He sighed quietly before he followed after her, sitting at her feet and lifting up her legs to make room, only to lay them across his lap before he leaned back and looked at the television screen. The news was on, and the Castle Rock Killer was again the headline. They both watched in silence for a while until he glanced over at her, noticing she still bore her clothes from the previous night -- torn and bloody. "You should get out of those clothes.."
Her eyes flickered to him, amused. At first he didn't understand why,
"Geez, Johnny, are you sure you really want me to go all stripper being as jacked up as I am? You must really be desperate."
With a gentle groan, he pressed a hand to cover his face, though they both laughed quietly. "You're immature." he mumbled, though still amused. 
She nodded pridefully, puffing out her chest slightly. 
"As immature as they get! And anyway, you walked right into it. Not my fault."
They both laughed again, and he shook his head before he leaned it back to rest against the wall behind him. For a moment he stayed like that, until again he picked up his head and shrugged. "Alright, fine." he paused and looked over at her, the ghost of a smile still haunting the corners of his mouth. "But you should change.. Unless of course bloody, ripped clothes are your thing."
She met eyes with him, though she looked slightly uncomfortable. Memories of the night before flashed in her head, and quickly she looked away again-- swallowing hard. 
"No, it's not my thing.. Will you drive me home? I'm pretty sure I'd scare the hell out of some poor cab driver," Her eyes drifted back over to him-- and right away she looked at the cane and a tense feeling went around the room.
"I mean.."
Johnny looked down, pursing his lips briefly before he looked back over at her and smiled slightly. There was no humor in this. No light side to the dark. No good thoughts to subside with the bad ones. Not with the thoughts of Sarah, still fresh in his mind from earlier. "I'm sure my father can take you home. I'll go ask him," 
He moved aside her legs to stand, and hadn't taken a step before she lashed out and caught the leg of his pants.
"Johnny,"
He turned to her, eyes dull. She stared up at him, before looking at where she gripped the leg of his jeans and letting go before smoothing them out again. "I'm sorry." Her blue pools drifted back up to his, and he smiled reassuringly at her before he looked away again a bit nervously. There was a long pause before he answered her.
"It's okay." His voice had lowered to a whisper, but he smiled again at her before he made his way back to the kitchen where his father still sat.

 Herb did drive her back to her home, and left her there with a kind smile. She showered herself, and without a second thought she threw every piece of clothing she had worn the last night in the trashcan. She had no intention of trying to sew anything back together, for now it was all haunted with bad memories. She sat down on her own couch, her legs curled up, holding a cup of hot tea between her hands. In fact, she sat like that for a while. Minutes passed as she stared at the wall before her in the silence, sipping occasionally at her cup. 
She had curled her hair, and each lock ended with a perfectly swirled curl. Her skin, minus the bruises again glowed in the way that it naturally did when she didn't feel dead. She dressed in a pair of black jeans and a fluffy white sweater, that hung at the neck to expose a bit of her collarbone and chest. Being self-conscience about the bruises and cuts were far from her mind. With a gentle sigh, she peered down into her cup as she contemplated going back to Johnny's house. The warm, golden-colored liquid that reflected her face smelled wonderfully of spices from another place.
Dawn Edwards contemplated there for another hour or so, enjoying the quiet, but not being alone. A strange feeling began to warm her flesh slightly, as she remembered how she felt last night when Johnny laid down with her, and wrapped his arm around her. The warmth of another human being next to you in the night was like no other -- especially if it was his warmth. It was true, his appearance had changed during the five years -- he always looked so tired now, and his hair which was once so tame seemed to be uncontrollable. He didn't wear his glasses anymore but to read, and he dressed darker. But that feeling she got when she was near him never went away; and in that way, he had never changed. He could still make her smile, and his smile hadn't changed. His eyes still glittered the same way in a genuine smile, and the corner of his eyes still wrinkled up with happiness. No matter how many years had passed, he still always had that smile about him. 
He still had that kindness about him. He always did. A sigh escaped her lips, and she ended up staring down at her feet. 
She hadn't ever seen him cry, until his mother died. She hadn't ever seen a man cry in such a way, nor had she ever have a man lean onto her, or hold him in such a way. She hadn't ever felt this way about another man before. In that aspect, it was all new. But she had always loved Johnny -- just not this way before. A part of her was wise to think he had no such feelings about her, but another part wanted to think he did, so much that it hurt. 
Part of her wondered if she could even handle it if he did. 
Her mind drifted to before she left -- to when he grabbed her and convulsed the way he did. The way that cold, distant, cloudy look came over his eyes to turn his face rock hard. No emotion, only concentration. He had grown ice cold in the matter of moments, and his muscles tensed as he stared into her soul with those wide, frightened eyes. What had he seen? What terrible thing would cause him to act this way? 
Oh, she knew about his power. But to be friends with Johnny Smith for so long, how couldn't she have known? But she had never seen it happen before. Not until yesterday. And to keep honest with herself, she gave in to the knowing that it frightened her. It made her uneasy. She caught a shiver just thinking about it, and quickly she tried to think about something else -- though the thoughts seemed to claim her entirely. What a terrible thing it was, to have such fear.. But somehow she couldn't merely move it to the back of her head and move on. 
There was something that was just all too unnerving about Johnny Smith. Too unnerving to merely push aside, however. 

 Eventually she finished her tea, but by that time it had already gone cold anyway. She drank it down nevertheless before she would walk off to her bedroom and toss a bag down onto her bed. A few pairs of clothes, and the necessary toiletries. She carried a separate pair of shoes by hand, though three other pairs had been tossed into the bag to join the rest of her clothing. (A pair of high heels, a pair of moccasins, and boots. It was far too cold for sandals)
Dawn Edwards got into her car and drove back to Johnny Smith's house. She left the bag and shoes in the car, but walked up and knocked on the door still, only to meet John in the doorway -- who was dressed differently now, and his hair gave away that he had showered not too long ago. It was drying, but still slightly wet. 
She didn't say anything to him, and for a moment the two just stared at each other before she shrugged pathetically heavily, and he stepped aside to let her in. As soon as the door was closed, she wrapped her arms around him -- though instead of over his sweater, which was unbuttoned, she slid her arms inside it and hugged around his torso, which was covered by a white button-up shirt. His common attire. With the girl hung onto him, and her face buried into his chest, he sighed and wrapped an arm around her, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. 
Something about it felt entirely wrong.. It was against his mental code of conduct, it was against all his senses which were screaming at him not to draw near. 
I know what you want to do, his conscience screamed. I know you want to get close with this girl, you know it to. You know how easy it is, especially now when there's no one else, to fall.
But you can't! Not with Sarah. What if she comes back to you? What if her marriage falls through, and she realizes that she really does belong with you? Don't break this girl's heart. You know you'll just as easily meet Sarah half way if she decides to make the path. Don't do it! Let go.
His eyes had opened by then, and he was staring at the floor before he pulled away gently. He played it off well, tucking his hand away into the pocket of his jeans, keeping the other one held firmly onto his cane and sniffling gently with the cold.
"You came back.. Didn't think you would."
"Why wouldn't I come back?"
Suddenly, he wasn't too sure himself. He looked down at his feet and smiled slightly, shrugging before he pulled his eyes back to her. "I dunno."
She smiled at him, genuinely before she walked away,  peeking in the kitchen. "Where's your father?"
"He-- he went out, won't be back till later. Charlene Mackenzie wanted something or another.. Why?"
She giggled quietly from the doorway, before she moved to sit down on the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest. "She always does." her voice was quiet, and she paused until she realized that he had asked her a question -- quickly she looked at him. "Oh, no reason. I suppose it just seemed a little quiet, and I didn't notice his truck was gone."
There was another silence as they stared at each other, but eventually he wandered over to sit next to her on the couch, letting out a breath at the effort it took before he looked over at her again. His eyes caught the bruise above her eyebrow, and with a slow, gentle motion he reached over and brushed the knuckle of a finger against it, looking almost saddened. "Are you okay?" his voice was quiet, and he leaned back though keeping his piercing blue eyes on her, worried. 
She merely nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine.. Few bruises ain't nuthin'. I've been hurt worse before, as I'm sure many people have."
"He didn't.. Well," Johnny looked away again, uneasily. "He didn't hurt you, I know that." His eyes shifted to his feet, but her eyes kept on him. Luckily, she wasn't daft enough not to know what he was talking about. She looked away as well, also a bit uneasy. "No, thankfully he didn't. How do you know that? Or did I.. tell you?"
He almost laughed at this, "No no. I saw everything that happened when I caught you... I just, well, I wanted to make sure that my visions weren't unclear.." He knew they weren't.. But to hear her say it, he knew he would feel much better. 
She looked at him, "No, Johnny, they weren't unclear. You're right. If one fortunate thing.." She trailed off, obviously disturbed by the subject. Because of this, he didn't talk about it anymore. They stayed silent, and watched the television until she spoke very quietly again.
"I didn't see it happening, Johnny.. Couldn't have seen it for a hundred miles, I've known that man for a long time now. Well, I thought I knew him. He's never stepped out of place around a lady. I don't know if it was the whiskey he drank, or what.. But I didn't see it coming, and I won't ever see him again, that's for sure. But was that-- what you saw? Before I left?"
She glanced over at him, curious. All at once, he was caught blind-sided and stumbled at his words at first. His conscience hissed at him, Lie. and he obeyed.
"Well, I.. Um." He looked down, ashamed, though it wasn't part of the act. Lie? Why lie? "Yes. That's why I tried to stop you, but I was still surprised by it. I didn't see you coming to me, or coming here. I saw trouble, but that's all."
Dawn swallowed hard, but since that was the last thing she wanted to discuss on the subject she let it at that. She caught herself staring at his hand, and she looked away nervously, swallowing hard. (She had always thought his hands were some kind of perfection.) She added them to her mental checklist of things about John Smith that hadn't changed. 
For one, his outrageous name -- one thing that also has not changed, and of course would never for that matter. She found it easier even to add the most simple things, that way her list was longer and more assuring. 

It was a cautious, careful motion. Slowly, she reached forward to pull his hand away from where it had been resting on his thigh, and into both of her own. His hands were paws compared to her's, but they were soft and cool, rather than cold and clammy, or hot. This action made him jump slightly, and his first impulse was to pull away though he quickly and mentally instructed himself otherwise -- to end up merely watching her curiously as she played tenderly with his fingers. She traced the lines in his palm, then ran her fingers up the back of his hand to feel each of the little masculine hairs there. Even beyond them, his hands were gentle and soft, and willing, as she moved it about and began to again play with his fingers. It was a curious thing to watch, and to feel even, as he watched her handle his paw with such delicacy.  
Though she didn't admit it aloud, it was always one of her wishes, dreams if you will, to cradle one of his hands so. She never thought of being able to in such a way-- for this way, this moment she felt almost like he was her's. Briefly, she sized her hand against his, and the difference made her giggle to herself before she laced her fingers into the spaces between his and held tight. For a moment, he kept his fingers straight up and just watched until the ice seemed to melt, and slowly his own fingers drifted down to clasp her hand within his own. His eyes held to her's, though it took her a moment to look at him herself.
The look in his eyes was somewhat odd. It was a look of sadness, pain even -- but even through such a look, there was happiness that could be found. A contentment. A smile had formed on the corners of their mouth, in sync with each other before they both looked down and laughed quietly. She bit down on her bottom lip gently before she looked down at where their hands met; and she felt her cheeks beginning to warm exceedingly. 
A quick flash of flames slipped into his head, and it made him jump slightly, but it was inconspicuous; and she didn't notice. She was in her own world now. It wasn't long until she moved, though never leaving her hand from where it was held in his, and wrapped her free arm around his neck, to bury her face within the crook of his shoulder. His red sweater was soft under her cheek, and his neck was warm. It radiated gentle heat. He sighed quietly, though to his surprise it wasn't of anything other than contentment. Every breath she took, he felt it puff against his flesh-- and at first it made him shiver gently before he grew accustomed. 
He ended up wrapping his arm around her again, though as it happened last night during his sleep, he did it unintentionally (to a certain extent). He held it around her back, and held onto her -- though it ended up being both arms, as she broke their hands to wrap her own other arm around his neck and entangled a hand within his thick, soft brown mane. The moment quickly overtook him, and he closed his eyes before he pulled her atop his lap to hold her. 
They kept there, arms wrapped around each other-- without a sound but the television humming gently in the background -- for a long time, though time was lost in their world. 

III.

 The ringing of the house phone shot them out of it, and made them both flinch as they were jump started into reality. They both sighed, and he groaned displeasingly before his arms loosened around her. Dawn only tightened her's, as if to hang on to the moment for just a minute longer -- but she nuzzled her nose against his neck and they pulled away from each other. One neither more nervous than the other. Neither could explain exactly what had brought on the sudden closeness between them. She pulled off of his body to curl up next to him, and they both stared into oblivion- not only confused, but dazed, until John forced himself to his feet and went to the phone who's demanding ring shattered his world. Whether it had been a shocking, odd world, it was still a contentment that he hadn't felt in so long.
He hadn't felt it since Sarah.
Dawn stayed still, curled up on the sofa and holding herself. For a few moments her heart beat rapidly, and then it fluctuated before coming back down from cloud 9 -- and it beat regularly. She sighed as she longed for him, but she closed her eyes and went very quiet as she listened to him murmuring in the other room. The sound of his voice soothed her down. Kept her from crying, as she had begun to feel tears well pathetically in her eyes when he pulled away. She wasn't sure why-- only that she longed desperately for his presence, because it comforted her so. It always had. She added that to her list of things that hadn't changed about Johnny Smith. 

 He came back a while later, and she forced herself back from attaching herself to him instantly as he sat back down next to her. Only looked up at him with curious blue pools,
"Who was it?" Her voice cracked slightly, and she blushed briefly in embarrassment.
Johnny smiled slightly at her, holding his cane against his thigh and wrinkling his brow quickly, "It was uh-- It was Sam. Said he'll stop by quickly and drop of some pills for you, to help you get better. He just got into a whole little doctor rant, I guess. How are you? How is your walking? Things like that."
He rolled his eyes and laughed quietly, though uneasily. He had been brought down to reality just as much as she had, it seemed, and had realized how random the action between them had been. It had made him a bit uneasy, though he wouldn't dare to admit that at the time it was.. Nice. He forced himself to stop at that. 
"How long will it be until he's here?"
Johnny paused for a second, trying to think if Sam had even said. Eventually he gave up, "Couldn't say." he said quietly, before he leaned back and sunk into the couch to stare out curiously at the television. A new victim of the Castle Rock Killer. 
His head started to ache.. Terribly, it started to ache. Soon enough, he brought his fingers up to gently touch against his brow with a quiet groan and closed his eyes. Then he pushed his palm up against it to wait it out -- and Dawn looked over at him sympathetically, to begin rubbing up and down his arm gently. Though she didn't speak, in fact she kept very quiet though it didn't matter. Whenever the headaches came, if he tried to speak she would quiet him and wait it out with him in silence. Whether he would admit it or not, it did help increasingly when everything was hushed. Slowly the pain died away, and he sighed quietly before he looked over at her and smiled slightly. "Thank you," He looked over at where she was rubbing at his arm, and he leaned into it softly before she pulled away and nodded. 
"Those headaches are terrible.. I wonder what causes them." She thought aloud, looking at him nevertheless only to gain a shrug. 
"I don't know. Luckily, they aren't getting worse." 
"They aren't getting better either, Johnny. You should talk to Sam about them when he comes."
John shook his head, "He'll just give me more pills.. If I get one more pill bottle, I think the medicine cabinet will explode-- and I'll be considered a druggy."
They both laughed quietly, before she shifted over and rest her head against his shoulder, looking at the man behind the television screen. With his perfect, combed hair and flawless skin. Only people on the TV ever looked like that. And it was done with a s**t-ton of make up, and years of experience. 
"It's ridiculous how perfect people look in a newsroom. Look at Don Bolles, I mean did you ever notice that?" She trailed off, eyes narrowed in concentration. 
Johnny just laughed, "I think.. That you're just odd."
He looked over at her, quirking an eyebrow upward. She looked at him, mouth agape though a smile still shone in her eyes. "Why you.."
"What? Who really looks at things like that! Aren't the stories enough to keep you listening? That's odd, Dawn, just odd. I mean, sure I've noticed it but I'm not doing this about it," He mocked her, narrowing his eyes at the TV and scoffing outrageously. 
She began to pummel him, but they both laughed as he cowered away from her. 
"I do not look like that, you a*s!" 
She began to hit at his chest, but he only laughed before she gave up and just laughed along with him, into his arm.
The doorbell rang later on that evening, and Sam dropped off her bottles of medication. Three bottles, to be exact. One with pain killers, one with pills to help her sleep at night (ambien), and another to "Help speed up the healing process", but it was just another pain killer. After Sam talked to Johnny for a while, he left. It was about fifteen minutes afterwards when Herb came home, and in the brief fifteen minutes she almost kissed him -- but she didn't. Herb came home, and they ate a quick dinner but by that time it was about ten at night. She and Johnny cooked up fish and rice with red peppers, and this surprised Herb, only because he insisted that Johnny's "cuisine" was based solely on cheap spaghetti sauces. They all laughed before they started to eat, chattering quietly to one another about little things. 

That was the November of 1978.