A/N: Please note that this is of course Fan Fiction, therefore the events described would be slightly deviated from the orginal telling.
And nope, I in fact do not own King Of The Hill or anything else I write about.
Fall Of The Hills
In the days following the death of Bobby Hill, events in the lives of Hank and Peggy Hill were more than slightly skewed. They were both having extremely disorienting nightmares, so severe that they would wake up in a cold bitter sweat in the early morning hours. Though not that the other would know, they barely talked or seemed to even notice each other anymore. At times the experience was not limited to their dreams, as they would have vivid memories and fantasies happen in their waking world.
One such time happened only two days after Bobby's death. Hank sat in the chair in his wood paneled office at Strickland Propane, still and lifeless as stone. The scenes would play in front of Hank's eyes and he would step into his memories before he had a chance to notice the change of scenery.
"Dad," Bobby said weakly, lying in the bed in the cold hospital room, pale as the chalk.
"I'm going to make it through this Dad, I'm goin-"
"Hank, are you alright?" said Buck Strickland.
Hank jerked his head back in suprise and took a moment to re-adjust to what was happening around him. His eyes were red and glazed over.
"Uh yes, yes Sir, Mr. Strickland," Hank responded automatically.
Buck gave him a once over with his eyes. Hank's clothes were wrinkled, he shaved, but clumsily as there were many missed spots and cuts on his neck and cheeks. He must have dropped twenty pounds in the last month at least.
"Listen Hank, I know you might not want to hear this, but you need to be at home now, with Peggy. Take some time off to get through this, will yea?" said Mr. Strickland.
"Mr. Strickland, I am fine-" Hank started.
"I know that Hank, but just be at home now, that's an order," said Mr. Strickland.
Hank stood from his chair as Buck took a step forward to shake his hand.
"I'll be seein yea in a few days ol' top," Mr. Strickland said, trying to add a bit of joy to his voice.
"Yes Sir," replied Hank, disappointed at having to face life at home sooner than expected.
Hank rushed out the backdoor, not wanting to have to face anyone else. He got in his truck, closed the door and put the keys in the ignition before he stopped. He slowly slumped forward against the wheel and cried. Footsteps were heard crunching the gravel not far away, Hank looked up to see a few of his co-workers coming towards him. In a selfish move, he cranked the engine and drove off quickly, only sparing a wave towards them. He wondered in those moments if they saw his tear streaked face.
The drive home from work was one of the most familiar events in Hank's life, but this time the experience was different. This time, Hank had trouble focusing on the road as tears would cloud his vision. He would shut them for only a moment, and the memories would play before his eyes.
"Dad," Bobby said. "I love you Dad."
Hank jerked awake in time to notice that he was driving into the ditch. He spun the wheel to the left and crossed the other lane completely. If it was not for the small shopping center on the other side, he would have driven directly into the opposite ditch. Hank slammed on the brakes in the turn in of the shopping complex, he brought his hands to his eyes and shook, trying desperately to keep the destructive memories away. Looking up and trying to navigate out and make it home, he noticed the liquor store at the end string of shops.
Hank parked his truck and went inside. His search was quick as he grabbed a bottle of Everclear and paid in cash before rushing out. For the rest of the drive home, Hank argued with himself on whether or not to throw the bottle out the window, or start drinking it now. Unfortunately for Hank, he pulled into his driveway before a decision was reached.
Though luckily for Hank the guys were not in the alley, it was still too early. Hank went to the kitchen table and sat down with a glass and his bottle of vodka. He poured till the glass was nearly full before slamming the bottle back down, tears already returning to his tired eyes. He lifted the glass and drank more than half of its contents in one swift chug.
Sitting at the table crying, Hank fought the urge to go back into Bobby's room. Lately and even before Bobby's death, he found himself spending most of his time in there, just sitting on the bed, alone. The urge was not kept at bay for long as Hank downed the rest of his glass and stormed off into his son's room.
The door was ajar when he came towards it, and lying on the floor by the bed was Ladybird. She got up slowly to come see him, her tail was only slightly wagging. His hand mindlessly petted her head as he sat in the darkened room. Ladybird tried to jump onto the bed next to him, but was too old and feeble to make it, she instead laid back on the floor close by.
Hank leaned back towards the wall against the bed. Now the memories would rush back the way they always would with no interruption.
"Bobby, son I need you to be strong now," Hank said as he held his son's hand.
"I'm trying my best Dad, I'll be home before long," said Bobby.
But Bobby did not make it home, Hank was there the moment he died. He frantically pressed the call button and yelled for help as his son went into convulsions. Hank trying to hold and shield his son from harm as he prayed for him to make it through this. But he didn't, Bobby died right in front of him, and he was powerless to do anything to help. The pain became unreal.
Hank's eyes bolted open with clear purpose. He got up and went to his closet to get his shotgun. The idea had been in his mind for over a week now, but now, now he knew this was the right thing to do. Slowly he went back into Bobby's room with the shotgun, fully loaded.
"Dad," said Bobby. "Promise me you won't leave."
I did promise you that Bobby, but it was you that left me.
No more pain, no memories remain.
But not to worry son, I will find you and keep you safe.
Hank brought the barrel of the shotgun to his mouth and pulled the trigger.