Jack's eyebrows climbed into his hair at her last comment. "No," he said, slowly, as if speaking to a child. "You were supposed to say, 'Jack, I need help. I'm having weird dreams that scare me,' and yeah, tell me what they were - brother's downfall, semi-violent sex, all of it - and I would have found a way to help you. There's nothing you can't tell me, you know that." The brief lash of anger he'd felt earlier was back. "Or did you think I wouldn't understand being afraid of something you don't remember doing?"