Oh, look, it's me again. Incapable of not writing a tag to "An Apple A Day."

You know that that means! Spoilers to 3X05, A Man Called Grandpa and 3X06, An Apple A Day.

Reviews are like HankMed visits without the bodily harm!

I wouldn't be sitting here in my pajamas, watching NCIS reruns if I owned it, I'd be in a nice cozy corporate office.

The nightmares were progressing. Until tonight, they followed the same pattern. Crash, two men, flashlights, cigarette smoke, German, and then solitude. Now?

The two men stand over her, looking identical as her foggy memory tries to expose their entire faces instead of profiles. They poke and prod, calling a name that wasn't hers.

If Jill was in conscious control of her thoughts, she would have decided she liked the other nightmares better. In the others, she wasn't the woman they were looking for and they left her be. Granted, they still left her, bleeding and out cold in the car, but they left her alone.

She draws a loud breath as she saw the butt of a pistol, mostly concealed in the man's waistband. Suddenly, he reaches for her. She tries to shrink back, flinch away, but she can't.

The nightmare held her hostage as an observer in her own memories. She cam not change what is happening because she could not even will herself to lift her head.

The stranger is suddenly grasping her arms, gently shaking her, stoking her arms. Now he uses her name, but it's less of a demand this time, more of a plea. He releases one arm, reaches for his gun. He pulls it, aims it at her chest.

Click.
As Jill's eyes snap open, her gasp of breath comes more as a strangled shout of despair. Still felling the hand on her arm, she goes to shove it away. When she makes contact with it, however, it doesn't relent. She turns to see that it is actually Hank's hand, Hank's face illuminated by the yellow light of a lamp he's turned on.

She stares at him for a long moment, the worried look that widens his eyes and creases his forehead. His thumb is moving back and forth along her arm and he watches her, waiting for her to break the last confines of the nightmare before he gathers her in his arms.

She turns back to the ceiling, staring at it's texture in the dim light. She's still gasping for breath, the soft noise echoing though the room, deafening, almost.

Still breathing heavily, Jill reaches blindly out for him. In an instant, Hank has pulled her in, his arms around her, her face buried in his chest as she lets the tears fall. All the while, he murmurs reassurances, brushing his fingers through her hair.

"It's okay, it was just the nightmare," he whispers in her ear.

She lies, dead still, for a moment. "No," she says. "It was worse than that. They.."

He shushes her, saving her from explaining how it was different this time, pulling her closer. "You're alright, it was just a nightmare."

Jill nods, settling back into his embrace. "G'night," she smiles, not even listening for his reply before sinking back into sleep.