((SWAT Kats belongs to Hannah- Barbera and I do not own any of the trademarked characters nor am I profiting from this is any way, other than it's fun.))
((I want to thank AjaxRota for beta-ing this story. It turned out much richer and more complex for his advise. Thanks dude!))
He'd had to come back.
Part of him hadn't wanted to come to the funeral in the first place. He has always hated funerals. But he'd done it, him and his new wife, a funeral director, a preacher and Callie Briggs.
Nobody else bothered.
The chairs were gone now, and the canopy that was set up to shade them, taken down by the cemetery staff. The flower arrangements were also gone. He'd told them to send them to the hospice. There had only been two.
The wreath with the ribbon across the center that spelled out 'Brother' in glittery cursive was still there, propped crookedly against the temporary marker; a little black metal plaque on a stake with the year and a serial number.
The urn and the couple handfuls of ash and ground bone it contained had been buried. Chance privately thought that thing was pretty expensive for something that ended up in a hole in the ground.
He stared down dully at the burial site, now a wreath on top of a mound of black dirt. 'That's all that's left of him,' he realized. Dust in a glorified flower pot under a careless dirt pile, marked by a cheap plastic flower wreath with dollar store ribbon.
He sighs and crouches down to pick up a couple pebbles from the dirt, and just idly lets them roll out of his hand as he looks around. He'd never been in an urn garden before today. He had to admit that it was a nice choice in final resting place, as cemeteries go anyhow. The urn garden was laced with clean gravel paths with small, well manicured flower beds. The grass was dotted by metal markers laid out in neat lines, and the occasional metal vase of flowers interrupted the lawn. On each side the garden was bordered by hedges or flower trellis and the paths included benches and small shrubs grouped around statuary. All in all it didn't look… it didn't look morbid, he decided.
He drops the last of the pebbles and slumps to sit next to the dirt pile.
"Hey…. Jake, buddy," he says, awkward. "I wanted to come back. Um. Make sure they had everything… I don't know. I couldn't stay home. I had to come back." He closes his eyes and exhales, smelling the grass and the wet earth. He opens his eyes and looks down at the burial site again.
"It was a nice service," he says to the wreath, his voice quiet. "The preacher did a good job talking about you. You know, for somebody that never met you."
He leans back on his hands, staring up at the sky. "Liked a lot of what he had to say. He missed one pretty important topic though. I needed to hear him say you're not in pain anymore. Watching you…. watching it happen. That was hard, buddy."
He closes his eyes to the sky a moment, remembering the smell of oral morphine drops and the sound of rattling breaths. He takes a breath of his own and looks up at the clouds.
"I didn't know watching you die was going to be worse than... When you were finally gone. I was… happy is not the right word," he says, confused and a bit angry at himself. "But I was maybe…relieved. I don't know, Jake. Not happy. Not with you dead." He growls and grabs a pebble again, and chucks it away.
"I kept waiting for some miracle. We had lotsa miracles over the years I guess… I guess we used them up, huh buddy?" he says, with a small smile. "This time none came."
When he got the call he'd gone to the hospice immediately. 'Actively dying,' they'd called it. When he entered the room a young nurse was struggling to straighten a sheet underneath Jake's still form. Her expression was surprised when he stepped in and stated "Please… let me help," and he'd easily shifted Jake's body.
The nurses welcomed his obvious desire to do something for his friend. One of them went so far as to clinically comment on it's benefit to his grieving process.
He decided he didn't like that nurse.
They showed him how to moisten Jake's mouth and lips with swabs and lip balm, and straighten his hands on the pillows used to prop his arms. 18 times in 18 hours he helped the nurses reposition and turn Jake's body. Between turnings and doses of medication Chance wiped away Jake's tears while suppressing his own.
"They told me I should tell you- to tell you it was OK to let go," he mumbles, to the dirt. "I couldn't bring myself to do it. Sorry if that kept you hurting for longer, Jake. And when you… When it was over…."
He thought he'd remember those hours for the rest of his life. By the last it felt like he'd been sitting at Jake's side for days, holding his hand and watching staggering, agonal breaths. Then when Jake finally gasped and breathed out and didn't breathe again, he'd thanked God it was over.
He helped the nurses bathe away the sweat and gently dry his fur, change the sweaty hospital gown for fresh and wrap him in a sheet. Chance himself lifted the too light, frail remains onto the undertaker's gurney, walked alongside it down the hall to the parking lot, and stood in the drizzle as they loaded him into the back of the black hearse. Then he stood in the gathering rain staring dumbly after it as it drove away, until he couldn't see the tail lights any longer.
"Damn it Jake! I keep telling myself I should be happy that you're not sick, and just be thankful it's over. I can't. I -can't-. You're still gone. And I don't know… I don't know how I'm going to- I KNOW we talked about this." Frustrated, Chance leans forward and rests his arms on his crossed legs, and looks earnestly at the dirt. "About going on without you beside me but- but now I have to -do- it and I have no idea how to start," he says, helpless. "I could always count on you to come through with one of your crazy ideas… or to talk some sense into mine. We were a team. And now… It's… like my right arm has been amputated," he complains. The discontent in his voice is nearly palpable and he sighs again. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to make this about me."
He picks up a pebble again and tosses it idly in his hand, his expression distant. "...So, I know you didn't get your ashes sprinkled over the bay like you wanted. But uh, the thing is I've, um, I have a little box of them in my pocket," he says, as he puts a hand inside his jacket pocket to touch the cardboard. "I had them put a little aside. As much as it's kinda weird- the thought that this is all that's left, and you're not together in one place. It's creepy. But… I'm gonna get them sprinkled on the bay. Like you wanted, well maybe not exactly how you wanted. I'm gonna do it a little different," he smirks at the ribbon then glances around again. "I'm glad your mom insisted that there be a burial and you chose to keep the peace. Even if after all that they couldn't bother to be here," he grumbles. "But then, you always were a peace maker, huh partner?"
"Never was much for cemeteries but…I'm glad there's somewhere I can come and… come and talk to you. Like you can hear me," he says, disgusted, and glares at the wreath. "...God. I hope you can hear me, Sureshot. Because if you can't… if you can't hear me… it's too late."
"When I walked into your room that last morning… You were still in bed, which confused me. You were lying on your side and your eyes were closed. Not just lying. I mean propped on your side with pillows and there was oxygen in your nose and a thingie clipped on your finger plugged into a monitor. That was all new since the day before. You looked so weak." He shakes his head.
"I saw your ear twitch, guess you heard me coming. I never was real light on my feet." He smiles faintly, thinking. It was like he was seeing the scene again, from somewhere outside himself.
"Hey buddy," you said, real quiet.
I sat quickly on the bedside chair and touched you, my best buddy and my WSO, on the shoulder. "Jake. You ok?" I asked.
You yawned long and loud before you nodded, slightly, just enough so I saw it. "Yeah. They just… gave me a stronger… pain pill. Kinda…. woozy."
My heart clenched. "You're in pain?" I blurted.
Your eyes just barely slit open and you smiled at me a little. "Nah. Good… now."
You were trying to reassure me I guess. I probably looked unconvinced. My hand was still on your shoulder but I was afraid if I squeezed it I would hurt you more. "You sure you're ok?"
"Sure buddy… look. I'll see you later….alright? I think I'm gonna... fall asleep."
Tired. You said you was tired. And I bought it, you bastard. "Sure. I'll be back soon as I close the shop up tonight."
Your eyes were still closed when you called my name. "Chance?"
"Huh?" I was half standing up out of the chair and I stopped, ready to jump at whatever you needed. "What."
"Buddy. Don't you… come running…. if they call. And say I'm worse… alright?"
That prompted the kind of question you have to ask even though you don't want to know the answer. I leaned over the bed and touched your shoulder again. "Jake….. You trying to tell me something?"
"No. Fine. Just don't... want you sitting around. Wasting time."
Well if that wasn't the stupidest thing you ever said. I think I snorted. "Right, well when hanging with you becomes a waste of my time I'll be sure to let you know."
And you chuckled at me. "Get out of here."
That sounded more like my pal! I chose to believe you just needed some rest. "Fine, I know when I'm not wanted. I'll be back later."
You didn't answer until I headed out into the hall. When I was just barely in earshot I heard a soft, "Bye, Chance."
Chance exhales and stares down at the wreath. "And I was too dumb to grasp that you were telling me goodbye. I shoulda turned around. I should have KNOWN, Jake! You LIED to me, Jake. You said you'd see me later. I believed you. I didn't expect you to go from ok to dead in …. But if I had known... If I had just known that those were the last… precious conscious moments we'd have together I never woulda left. I would of told you - I SHOULD've told you how I felt, a long long time ago. And I know that deep down that I didn't have to say it. But why the hell didn't I?!," he asks the air, bafflement in his voice.
"What's wrong with toms, that it's not OK to say things like… like you know, feelings? Are we all as a society so disconnected from each other - hey! Listen to me, buddy, sounds like you rubbed off on me over the years," he says, with a wry chuckle. Then he sighs, again, defeat in his voice. "I… coulda said something… So you knew. So I could know you knew. Even though deep down I know that you knowed. Knew." He scowls. "Idiot," he says with a deep sigh. "…There's so much I wish I'd have told you. Mostly I should've told you how much I loved you, my friend."
Belatedly he realizes he's being watched, and when he turns he sees the last person he'd expect to see in this place on this day. Commander Feral is standing only 3-4 yards away. Feral clears his throat and steps closer. "Furlong," he states, a greeting as Chance swiftly gets to his feet. "I wanted to extend my condolences." The Commander's voice was awkward, though he still stood ramrod straight with his hands behind his back. "I can only imagine how difficult this last week has been for you. Clawson was… he was a fine tom. Intelligent and upright. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thanks…" Chance says, uncertainly watching the Enforcer Commander.
Feral nods and steps forward, his eyes on Chance. "I'm sure you don't like seeing me here. I let my anger and pride interrupt my duty that day. But! The past is in the past. I've always maintained it's best to leave the past behind."
Chance raises an eyebrow.
"And I hope you can do the same," he adds, and the big commander takes his hand out from behind his back and extends it to Chance. "I'm sorry for what I did, Furlong. I was angry at the wrong Kats. I only regret I couldn't get past my pride in time for Clawson to hear it too."
Torn, and flooded with angry emotions Chance stares at the Commander's proffered hand, and his first impulse is to turn his back on him and walk away. But then the thought hits him. 'What would Jake do in this situation?' The answer came to him instantly. Jake never held grudges, and didn't force a tom to prove himself before he wholeheartedly accepted him. He would have shaken Feral's hand and that would have been the end of it.
So after a moment for the shock to pass Chance takes the Commander's hand and they shake. "...Thank you Commander. I appreciate it," Chance replies. "It… means a lot."
Feral nods gruffly and takes his hand back, tucking it behind himself once more and clears his throat. "I plan to see that the debt is quietly dropped and that your benefits are reinstated. However, I don't intend to return you to the Enforcers," he clarifies. "In any case, you're not needed. I've got enough pilots."
"...Right. Thanks anyway," Chance says, his expression truly baffled.
"Have you sought out a replacement?" he questions abruptly.
Puzzled, Chance rubs at the back of his neck. "Uh, I been handlin' the salvage by myself for a few months, but I guess I'll have to put an add in the paper for some sort of help…." He trails off at Feral's expression. "...What?"
"Is that what you think I'm asking about?" Feral asks gruffly. "I wasn't referring to the salvage yard."
"...Then what are you getting at?" Chance asks, starting to feel cold dread in his stomach.
"I doubt anyone can truly fill Clawson's shoes," Feral opines, as he turns away. His back is to Chance for a moment until he looks at him out the corner of his eye. "But… I would like to see a replacement SWAT Kat hit the skies as soon as you feel comfortable. T-Bone."
"...Feral… how did you…?" he questions and the Commanders turns back to him with a rueful expression.
"An offhand comment from Ms. Briggs," he replies. "She mentioned coming to a graveside service, and when I enquired, she told me about Clawson." He holds up his hand as Chance looks like he's about to interrupt. "It's been fairly evident for the past year that something was… wrong with Razor. There's been speculation at HQ that he was seriously ill, especially after he disappeared over the past few months. And then, last week..."
Chance turns his head slightly and stares out across the urn garden as he remembered exactly what Feral was referring to. A semi-truck had crashed and was dangling over the guardrails on the bridge, threatening to fall into Megakat Bay. It was an urgent situation and called for prompt response with the Turbokat and the mega-winch. Predictably, duty called at the worst possible time; Jake had been gone less than six hours. Tears kept blurring T-Bone's vision and disaster had nearly struck when a clumsy response to a shift in the wind had almost resulted in the semi being knocked over the rail. At the last second he'd righted it, and when he returned the semi to the tarmac he'd looked down and spotted Feral staring at him.
"Suspicions I already had fell too neatly into place," Feral states. "I should have examined my gut feelings a long time ago. Then maybe I could have apologized in time for Clawson to hear it as well."
Chance frowns, his eyes back on the Commander. "...So. What are you gonna do with your new found knowledge?"
"What I should have done long since," he growls, eying Chance from his superior height. "Try to make amends." He smiles very slightly.
"I don't believe it," he blurts. "You're just going to let everything go?" Chance asks, disbelief in his voice. "Just like that."
Feral's jaw tightens. "I'm admitting I was wrong," Feral says through gritted teeth. "I can't turn back time Furlong."
Chance eyeballs him. "No more threats to unmask… me or throw me behind bars?"
Feral scowls at him. "Not unless you give me a reason you arrogant hot shot!" He snaps. "I -thought- you already accepted my apology."
Chance smirks, looking a lot like his alter ego for a moment before his smile fades slowly. He exhales before he speaks. "I guess suspicion has become a habit. So... I'm sorry. It's been a long week."
Feral's expression relaxes minutely. "Of course. You have every reason to be, hhrmh, skeptical of my intentions. But this city's safety is my responsibility, and I have come to grudgingly accept that my Enforcers sometimes need help. I expect you will continue to concern yourself with the safety of our Katizens?"
Chance nods, still rather dumbfounded.
"Well then. I'm sworn to protect the Katizenry, so logically it's in their best interest that I support their heroes. I am officially proposing a new spirit of cooperation. And, if you haven't yet approached a new partner I know a young tom you might consider…"
Three weeks later, the Turbokat was soaring over Megakat Bay. In the west a lone Enforcer jet was moving out of sight into the setting sun, as three others returned to the city. The four had executed a classic 'missing man' formation. Feral had insisted on it.
"Razor deserves this," he'd pointed out. "He can't be given the hero's burial he deserves but we can at least observe some of the proprieties."
As the lone Enforcer jet disappears into the sunset, T-Bone's grip tightens on the throttle. "Ready back there Laska?" T-Bone calls.
His WSO nods, as his hands move over the console. "Yes sir, firing the decoys now," the lanky black furred tom replies as he hits switches.
T-Bone smirks a little. He hadn't broke him out of that 'sir' nonsense yet. The decoy missiles spiral out ahead of them and T-Bone banks the Turbokat to chase after.
"Missile's loaded."
"Got the right one now don't you, Laska?" T-Bone had taken extra special care preparing this payload.
"Sir, yes sir! Switching the auxiliary weapons panel back to you, T-Bone."
"Alright. This is it," T-Bone growls, switching the guard up on the trigger.
"Let's do it buddy!" Laska enthuses and T-Bone quirks a grin.
"Yeah. This is for you, Razor," he says with grim determination and presses the trigger. The 'plain old missile' streaks out from below the Turbokat, focuses on one of the decoys, and pursues it until impact. T-Bone rolls the Turbokat to the side and watches as the missile, loaded with the last of Razor's ashes and some extra 'bang' explodes into fireworks.
"Bingo!" T-Bone and Laska shout in unison as the fragments scatter over the bay.
"Razor, that was for you, Sureshot," T-Bone says, looking down at the sparkling bay waters. "Sleep well, brother."
Do not rejoice over me O my enemy. Though I fall I will rise. Micah 7:8