Genre: drama/angst

Warnings: Depressing!

Characters: Tom/Doug

Summary: Doug chooses a place to eat for a lunch, a place where Tom's father was murdered.

Story:

Out of all the fifty six cafes in the city of Vancouver, why did Doug have to pick this one? Tom thought. Why?

Tom and Doug had to meet with the DA in relation of a case they had been working on. It stole a good few hours of their morning and was hair-tearingly boring. After it was over, they were left hungry and thirsty. They were supposed to head back to Jump Street but decided to fuel themselves up with food and drink first.

Doug drove around in his yellow truck, looking for somewhere to eat before drawing up on the side of the road.

The place Doug chose, was a cafe Tom knew quite well...

He swallowed down the nausea that arose from his stomach. The cafe was repainted in white and there was a sign that said Bob's cafe in bold, red letters.

"Can't we go somewhere else?" Tom asked his best friend.

"They serve really good chips and they are affordable too, so why not?" Doug said, withdrawing his key from the ignition.

"You've been in there before?" he asked.

He failed to hide the surprise in his voice because it wasn't a place that people often go. Let alone talk about. At least, he didn't think.

"Sure, have you?"

"No...not really," he replied. "But there's plenty of other cafes Doug."

Doug's trademarked, slanted eyebrows knitted together into a frown. "Don't be so picky."

"I'm not picky. It's just - " his argument was cut short when Doug made a move to get out of his truck. "I'm just saying that there's plenty of other places," he continued until Doug slammed the car door in his face.

He couldn't believe Doug had the nerve to turn his blind eye on him. He irritably got out of the car to resume with his argument. "Aren't you listening to me?" he seethed.

Doug turned around. "Sure I'm listening," he said in an annoyed tone.

"Okay, so, why don't we go somewhere else like Rocket Dogs? I mean, you love Rocket Dogs!"

"Tom, Rocket Dogs is at least another three miles!"

"Yeah but, we went past at least ten cafes Doug and I'm sure there's another two down the next road so why don't - " but his protests crumbled down to nothing when he realized he accidentally followed his friend into the cafe. He knew then, he couldn't argue any more without getting dirty looks from the locals. There were two people having an all day breakfast, and in the corner, was an older man reading from a newspaper.

He only seen the outside of the cafe once... His mother drove him there so they could lay a bouquet of flowers outside. It was four months after his dad's death. and he could barely breathe from so much grief. He agreed to go at first because he hoped to feel his presence and to see the last thing his dad saw in his surroundings other than a mad man with a bullet. But when they got there, he just broke down in the passenger seat and refused to get out.

"I can't...I can't do it mom!" he sobbed in the passenger seat.

"Honey please, we'll just be a minute," his mother pleaded.

She had a bouquet of lilac, peach and cream flowers resting in her arm along with a goodbye letter they both wrote.

"Your father would have liked to see you here."

"But his dead mom! He died right here and he's never coming back!" he cried out with tears spilling out of his eyes.

"I know Tommy...I know," she, herself, started to sob.

He never went back there again... until now.

It looked like any ordinary cafe. It was rather small, with a classic taste of red leather seats and round tables. The walls had little trucks pictured across the wallpaper and there were two framed pictures of vintage cars. He could see why his dad loved this place because he was a car enthusiast himself. And he had his ice-blue 1968 mustang to prove it.

As soon as they seated, his friend picked up the menu and let his eyes skim through it. There was another menu for him to take but he didn't bother because he didn't feel like eating.

"What are you having?" Doug asked.

"I don't know... I'll just have what you're having."

Doug gave him a bemused glance from the menu. "Oh yeah, because you have a problem with being too picky," he jibed.

He ended up having fried egg and chips. Doug also ordered coke and he took the initiative to choose black coffee.

While they waited for the food to arrive, his eyes wandered around the cafe.

Big mistake...

Even though he wasn't there the night his dad was murdered, he could see him. He could see the image of dad seated at the front table drinking black coffee. He was talking to his partner, Charlie, about how proud he was of his little boy...

"Tommy is growing up so fast... I can't believe he's already sixteen. He's at prom with a nice girl and soon he'll be going off to college to study law. I'm so proud of him..."

His dad craned his neck to take a look at him. His deep blue eyes looked almost sad.

"My boy is all grown up. I always thought he would become a cop like me - and he did. It's in his blood after all...our blood..."

He tried to call out to his dad but he couldn't find his voice. He wanted to tell him he missed him so much, it hurt. Suddenly a man wearing a cap and blue shirt emerged from the back of the cafe and shot Charlie with a gun. The sound of the gun firing off was so loud, it made his ears ring. His dad fired a shot back at the man, hitting his shoulder. But the man fired back hitting his dad in the chest. He collapsed and fell onto his back, dying instantly. Crimson blood pumped from the hole in his chest... a hole where his heart was. There was so much blood oozing from his wound, it began to form into a growing puddle, spreading all over the brown carpet...

"Want any ketchup?"

The vision of his dad lying in his own blood swam away and he found himself back to reality. There was a plate full of chips before him and Doug was holding out a bottle of ketchup, beckoning him to take it. But he didn't want any. The image of red sauce dribbled on his friends chips, haunted him because it reminded him of blood. It made him feel like throwing up or crying - even both.

"I...I have to go to the bathroom."

"Okay, but be quick because I might steal some of your chips," Doug joked.

When he got up, he had to rest his hand against the table to support himself because his legs felt weak. Fortunately, he didn't end up in a messy heap and managed to make his way to the bathroom. Once he locked himself in a stall however, he collapsed onto the floor and let all his emotions spill out in whimpers, sobs and tears.

He didn't know how long he laid on the floor crying but it was long enough to feel his throat and chest ache, and his eyelashes clumped together from shedding so many tears.

Suddenly, he heard the bathroom door swing open.

"Hanson, you in there?" Doug called.

"I'll be right out," he replied as normally as he could.

He wiped away the evidence from his eyes with the back of his hand then flushed the toilet to pretend he had been.

"You alright?" Doug asked.

He averted his eyes while he walked up to the basin to wash his hands.

"You were a long time in there," Doug pointed out. "Were you sick or something?"

He dried his hands with bathroom paper before replying. "Yeah... I-I want to go home."

"Aw man, food poisoning again? Don't worry, I'll take you home," Doug offered with sympathy. "And don't worry about the chips because I already yours," he joked lamely.

When he faced Doug, his expression was creased with concern.

"You look like you've been crying... but correct me if I'm wrong."

"I...just got sick that's all."

He didn't know whether he believed him or not. But it mattered if he did, because he never cried in front of anyone. He hated showing weakness, preferring to show the world he was a hard-nosed tough guy. However, his reliance threatened to tear apart when they made their way through the cafe. And when they were outside in the breeze, he felt broken because he didn't have the chance to say goodbye. A sob escaped his throat and tears retraced their way back. He tried to hide his face but Doug already seen it.

"What's wrong?" Doug asked in alarm.

He knew there was no point hiding anymore.

"My-My dad was murdered in there," he said with a sob.

"Oh my god, Tom I'm sorry!" Doug cried. "Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have brought you in there if you told me!"

"I d-don't know..."

Doug gingerly wrapped him into a hug when another sob escaped his throat. "I'm sorry man, I'm sorry," he soothed him.

He didn't feel comfortable being hugged and showing Doug how vulnerable he really was so he awkwardly pulled away.

"I'm sorry for freaking out like that. It's just... I never been in there before because I couldn't bring myself to."

"You don't have to apologize for anything," Doug said gently.

He eyed the cafe, wondering if he could ever set foot in there again without seeing the horrible images play out like a movie. Or whether he would hear his dad say he's proud of him...

"I think...I think I might go back in."

Doug winced. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"But I almost felt close to him."

"Maybe another day, okay?" said Doug. "You're too upset and I imagine you must be exhausted, so it's a good idea if you let me take you home."

He felt himself unravel to give in because he knew he was right. He felt like sleeping off the grief because it hit him way too hard.

"Okay...take me home."

When he got comfortable in the drivers seat, he asked. "Could you take me here tomorrow?"

Doug sighed from behind the wheel. "If you think it helps you, then sure."

He did think it would help because he had always tried to avoid facing his demons by placing a mask upon his face. For many years, he lied and told the world he was okay. He was so afraid of hurting, it come to the point where he hadn't visited his dad's grave in almost two years. And every year, on the anniversary of his fathers death on Valentines day, he would block out the pain by drinking himself to oblivion. He knew it was wrong and he knew he had to start facing his grief.

He had to...

"It's worth trying," he said lastly.