Sorry it's been so long since I've updated, things have been very busy around here for me. Anyway, here's the next chapter...I know, it's a little short, but I'm working on Chapter 5 as we speak and it should be up soon as well. Enjoy!

Chapter 4 Two little words

The ride back to Tom's apartment had been a quiet one. Every once in a while, Doug would look over at his partner, only to find him staring blanking out the window. He wasn't sure what to say to him. All he could think about was the fact that Tom had thought he had seen his father. His dad's been dead for eight years, he thought, there's no way that was Hanson Sr. in that alley. Maybe Tom was still feeling the effects of the bottle of whisky he had downed. Shaking his head, Doug pulled the mustang into a spot in front of Tom's apartment, put it into park and removed the keys. Trying to find the right thing to say, he turned to his friend and began, "Hey, uh Hanson…"

"Don't say it Doug." Tom muttered, opening the door and getting out. Once out on the sidewalk, he turned to face Doug. "I know what I saw."

"Tom, maybe after everything that went on tonight you just think you saw him." Doug said gently.

Tom was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "It was him. I think I'd know my own father."

"Tom, he's been dead for eight years." Doug said. "People don't come back from the dead."

"Damn it Doug, IT WAS HIM!" Tom yelled, unable to control his anger. "I know what I saw."

"Okay, okay…why don't we go inside and talk about this?" Doug said. Doug began walking towards the entrance to Tom's building, only to be stopped by Tom's next words.

"You know what Penhall?" Tom began. "Why don't you just go home? I don't need to talk about this anymore."

"What? Come on Tom." Doug stated.

"Just get the fuck out of here, okay?" Tom pushed.

Angered by the conversation, Doug threw the keys to Tom and made his way over to his bike. "Fine. See you later Hanson." With that, he climbed on his bike and took off down the road, with Tom watching the tail lights disappear into the night.

"Fine." Tom muttered to himself as he let himself into his apartment building and made his way upstairs to his apartment. Once inside he went straight to the kitchen where he pulled out a beer from his fridge and then slumped down on his couch. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he opened the can and took a long drink. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the cushions, trying to block the image of his father in that alley from his head. Doug's right, you know…your father is dead and gone. There's no way that was him in the alley, he thought to himself. But it looked just like him. Tom laid an arm over his eyes and let out another sigh. You're fucking losing it, Hanson. Get a grip. Your dad is dead. End of story. Deal with it.

"Yeah, I'll deal with it." Tom said, getting up and going to the kitchen where he opened the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of whiskey. He poured himself a glass and went back to the couch. "How's this for dealing with it?" he asked, taking a long, hard drink.

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When Tom awoke a few hours later, his heart was pounding in his chest. The room was blanketed in complete darkness. He could sense that something was wrong; something didn't seem right. He laid there for a moment, trying to clear his head. He quickly glanced over at the coffee table next to him and noticed the half empty whisky bottle that was sitting there. Shit, he thought, how much did I drink? He started to push himself up to a sitting position when he heard a noise in the back of his apartment. Instinctively he reached for his gun, which was still holstered on his side. Once it was firmly in his hands, he listened for any more sounds. After a moment, he could hear some rustling from his bedroom. Tom stood up from the couch and had to grab onto it to steady himself as a wave of dizziness flooded him. Of all the damn times to be drunk, he thought. He waited for the dizziness to pass and then quietly made his way back to his bedroom, careful not to trip over anything and alert the trespasser to his whereabouts. He held his gun out steady in front of him as he made his way to the back of the apartment. He could feel his heart pounding, as if ready to jump out of his chest. When he made it to his bedroom, he leaned in towards the door and listened. He could still hear movement inside and prayed that he only had one intruder. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the doorknob and slowly turned it, pushing the door open. Once the door was fully open, he could see the silhouette of a man, with his back facing him, over by his bed. Aiming his gun at the man's back, he stepped forward.

"Put your hands where I can see them." Tom said, hoping the man wasn't armed. He noticed the man stopped moving, but he didn't seem to want to do as he had asked. "Now!" Tom said with a bit more force. Tom watched as he slowly moved his hands out to the side.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment?" Tom asked, inching towards the intruder.

The man cleared his throat and slowly turned around, keeping his hands out at his side. Nervously, Tom searched for the light switch with one hand while keeping his gun trained on the man. Once he found it and flipped it on, bright light flooded the room, causing him to blink, his eyes trying to adjust to the light. He let out a startled gasp as the light revealed the face of his intruder.

"N-no…" Tom said. "It c-can't be." Tom stood motionless for the moment, his gun hand faltering as it began shaking. He stared into the eyes of the man before him. He was caught completely off guard when the intruder finally spoke. Two words were all it took for Tom Hanson's world to come crashing down around him. Two little words that changed everything he had ever believed in. Two little words that had always meant so much to him. Two words that he had thought he would never hear again.

"Hi sport." The man said.

Two words that caused Tom Hanson to raise his gun and let off a single shot that echoed in the night.