My apologies for the obscenely long wait. I hope it is worth it. enjoy.
Chapter 8
My experience with Cameron along with learning I had HIV would prove how much—and what kind of—faith I really had. I remember reading in the New Testament, Matthew I believe, about Jesus telling his disciples that if they have faith the size of a mustard seed and told the mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it would move and nothing would be impossible. I wasn't sure if I had even that much faith. If any at all.
I'm a man of limitations. I don't have a problem admitting that. However, I didn't know how far those limits stretched.
Mine and Doug's next case would show just how much and what kind of faith I really had and just how big my limitations were. Doug was my rock. I was about to learn that my rock wasn't as sturdy and strong as I wanted to believe. My rock had limitations just like me.
Dougie and me had been on a case for three weeks, staking out a neighborhood, trying to find a cat burglar. It was completely botched by one of the kids that attended the school we were sure the suspect attended. The kid that stumbled onto our stakeout was Walker Stevenson. He was a good kid. He had issues like everyone else. Me and Doug liked him. He was in Doug's biology class. (As he constantly repeated.)
The kid was wasted and about as quiet and graceful as that proverbial bull in a china shop. Clearly not our guy. We were blown, so we handed him over to Ioki.
I tried to talk to him the next day. According to his sister things were pretty bad for him. I didn't realize how bad until later that day when me and Dougie were back at the Chapel. Jenko was on line two. Walker had killed himself. That's when everything spiraled out of control for Doug.
I had to find out why Walker had killed himself. I never understood suicide. It didn't make sense to me.
The day of Walker's funeral I stopped by Doug's to pick him up. There was something off about him. The way he was acting just wasn't the Doug I knew and loved. At first I thought he was just being a jerk. When I asked Dr. Robertson to come to the Chapel so I could talk to him, Doug had gone from saying he liked Walker to calling him a loser when I asked the doctor why Walker had killed himself.
Dr. Robertson talked about warning signs; signs that pointed to a cry for help. Doug was exhibiting some of these signs. But at that point, I couldn't see them. I was too focused on figuring out why Walker killed himself or why any of these kids would want to try.
I went to a memorial gathering (can't really call it a party) for Walker. Doug came along. (And I basically got thrown out." "For being a jerk." "Basically.") Talking to all those kids started to help me understand why. But then I had to know how to help them.
All I had been able to think about was suicide. Maybe not my own. ("Yet, if anyone had a reason to think about it, it was you." "Yeah, maybe.") I convinced one of the girls I had met and talked to at that memorial gathering for Walker to talk to Dr. Robertson. I needed to do something for at least one of those kids. The more I thought about all of it and talked to the doc, I realized that as much as I wanted to understand 'why' I never would. I guess it was just something I wasn't meant to understand.
("Are you gonna mention that bit about you comin' to see me and tellin' me how much of a jerk I was bein' and that I didn't get it and how you helped somebody out, then I told you about how I knew more about suicide than you ever will and you made a comment and then I yelled—after you yelled "What's wrong with you?'—'My mother killed herself when I was six! I've known about suicide every day since.'" "You just did in a very long sentence," "Yer welcome.")
Anyway…. After his blow-up, we stepped outside to talk about it. Even so, I felt there was still something wrong.
("It was an accident. I didn't intend to do it." "I know, Doug.")
I had a bad feeling as I left Doug's place and headed home. I couldn't get what the doctor had said out of my head. Then I realized I had to go back to work to finish some paperwork. Lousy paperwork. ("I agree.") And it was a futile attempt to clear my mind.
I couldn't stop thinking about Doug as the doc's words were swimming around in my mind like guppies in an aquarium. I couldn't focus on anything, especially not paperwork. ("That always happens to me." "I'm not gonna comment on that." "Gee, thanks." "Yer welcome.")
"I'll finish this tomorrow," I said, standing up. "I gotta go." And I left the chapel without another word.
I was moving so fast down the stairs I nearly tripped halfway down, which likely would've sent me toppling head-over-heels. And that would not have been good. ("For either of us.")
Going the speed limit from the chapel to Doug's was a wee bit difficult for me. I was scared to death. As I drove, all I could think was "Dammit, Douglas, don't you dare try and leave me." I don't remember parking or running up to his apartment. I barely remember the drive over. Everything blurred together.
When my head cleared I found myself pounding on his apartment door. And calling his name. After a few moments I remembered I had a key to his apartment; one that he had given me when I was still having those nightmares.
I slowly opened the door, fearful of what I might see.
The main lights were off and the lamp on the table was dimly lit. I called for him as I stepped inside.
"Doug?"
It was quiet. Deafeningly so.
I slowly walked past the kitchen and into the living room.
And then I saw him. Sprawled out on the floor in front of the couch. I tripped over myself as I ran over to him. Doug was unconscious. I noticed a bottle of pills on the coffee table and I quickly called 9-1-1.
Just as the paramedics arrived, Dorothy called. I told her to head to the hospital and that I'd meet her there to explain everything. As I hung up, one of the EMTs said I had gotten there just in time. If I had waited any longer…Doug would've been dead.
Dorothy saw him first once he was set up in his room while I talked to Jenko.
"Hey, he's gonna be fine, sport."
It was hard for me to believe, even though the doctor had said the same thing.
I replied with a quiet, "I know."
I went in to see Doug after Dorothy. He was sleeping; he looked so peaceful. I wanted to punch him in the face. I wanted to scream at him, tell him 'how dare you try and leave me.' But I couldn't say a word. I just sat there, staring at him. Eventually, I folded my arms, laid them on his stomach, laid my head down and fell asleep.
I woke up sometime later to someone touching my back. My eyes opened as I slowly sat up. I didn't see anyone else in the room.
"Doug?"
"Hey, pal."
We looked at each other. He knew I wanted to punch him in the face.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "It was an accident. I promise."
"What were you tryin' ta do?"
"My head and shoulders were killin' me, so I took somethin'."
"And over did it." Doug told me later that I had a scolding look on my face when I said that to him. I replied with 'good.' "The doc says yer gonna be okay."
"That's good ta know."
"Yeah, it is." We were both quiet for a moment. "So you weren't tryin' ta kill yerself."
"No. Not that I never tried before."
I looked at him curiously.
"I tried to kill myself when I was eight years old. I drank a bottle of vanilla extract."
I wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that. "That's…kinda cute."
"Well, I didn't mean for it to be cute. I meant ta kill myself. My mother was an alcoholic. She was really hard to have around. Even when I was six. It was easier when she was gone. I felt so incredibly guilty. After I realized that. It…it was like I killed her. Like I sent her away. Like she left because I hadn't loved her enough. Like…she thought…I didn't love her."
"Doug, you were six years old."
"Do a lot of funny stuff when people leave you. You make alotta deals with God. I used ta eat all my vegetables cuz I knew that's what my mother wanted and that would make her happy up in heaven….And I didn't talk to my father for months cuz I thought that would bring her back." He gave me a half-smile. "I had this other deal with God, that, uh…if I was a real good boy she'd come back. She didn't come back. I was kinda difficult for awhile. Some, uh…twenty-odd years." He let out a laugh and smiled. "I don't know. Maybe that's my excuse sometimes for acting like I'm six."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Oh, what are you sorry for?"
"I'm yer friend. I should've seen your pain."
"Oh, okay, so…maybe it's alright if I act obnoxious sometimes."
"No," I said as we both laughed a little. "You seein' anybody about this?"
"I don't need ta see anybody about this."
"You sure?"
"I dealt with this a long time ago. I just thought this might help you."
"Yeah.… You had ta put yerself in the hospital first."
"Hey…."
I stared at him.
"Geez, I don't know…. You don't like my stories. You don't like the music I listen to."
I smiled.
"So…when am I getting' outta this joint?"
"Sometime today, maybe. I think they should keep you under a seventy-two hour psych watch."
"Ha-ha."
"Do you blame me?"
"I said I was sorry."
I looked at the floor for a moment and then back at Doug. "I can't lose you, Doug. I need you."
He looked at me with a soft expression on his face. "I really am sorry. I promise you…I ain't goin' anywhere."
"Pinky promise."
He lifted his hand. "Pinky promise."
Doug was released the following morning. I asked Dorothy not to go off on him—too much. A few days later Doug went to one of those suicide help groups, whatever the actual name for the group is.
Things finally seemed to be getting back on track when Jenko dropped a bombshell on us.
Doug and me were on a case as the infamous McQuaid brothers. Spring was in full gear and my allergies were going haywire. This put both me and Tommy McQuaid in a bad mood. This was good for the case and bad for the suspects—and everyone else. Grumpy and frowny-faced. As Doug put it. And I was perfectly fine with being grumpy and frowny-faced. Made me appear more menacing. ("At least in your own mind." "Shut up.") It was more of the same old stuff, theft and drugs and whatnot—but it took almost three weeks to get it done. ("That seemed to be our average." "Thank you, Douglas." "As always, yer welcome.")
However, when we got back to Jump Street at the end of the day, we discovered that it just may end up being our last case.
"See. I was right," Doug said rather loudly as we walked in.
"We don't know that yet."
I noticed Judy staring at us as I sat down at my desk. "What are you two arguing about now?"
Without missing a beat Doug replied, "We're not arguing."
Then came her usual reply. "Mmm-hmm."
"Maybe you are," I said. "But maybe you're not."
Doug stared at me for a moment as if he were contemplating some kind of profound statement. "I am." But it never came to pass.
Ioki patted him on the shoulder. "Very profound, Penhall."
Jenks walked in just as Ioki spoke. "As profound as Penhall may or may not be, what I have ta say, unfortunately isn't."
"What's up, Jenks?" I asked.
"Bad news, kids. Looks like this might be our last two cases."
The four of us looked at him with the "What?" look and Judy said, "Jenko, what are you talkin' about?"
"We're gettin' the summer off."
Doug furrowed his brow. "And that's bad because…."
"We may not be back in the fall."
I had wanted no part of it when I first came to Jump Street. But now….
"You okay there, sport?"
"Huh?" I zoned out. I'd been doing that a lot lately. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Getting my thoughts together I said, "The program's being dropped."
"Afraid so, sport." He looked around at everyone. "It'd be a good idea to start lookin' for somethin' else."
What if I don't want to? I thought to myself.
Judy looked at me. "You okay, Hanson?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Liar.
I couldn't believe what was happening. Look for something else? I had no clue what I was going to do. There was no way they were going to put me back on patrol. I still looked like I was twelve. Could this possibly get any worse? The answer was a resounding 'Yes.' But that resounding 'yes' wouldn't come until the end of the summer.
I lay in my bed that night, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. What was I going to do? I did not want a desk job.
"I can't believe this," I said to myself. "What a jerk." Please note that I wasn't referring to Jenko. Though I have called him a butthead…in my head. But I'm sure he knew.
The truth of the matter was…I was scared to death. I knew me and Doug were not going to end up working together over the summer. We weren't there quite yet and I already felt alone. I still hadn't told anyone about my HIV and I still hadn't found a way to pay for my medication.
Why was all this happening?
I was at a complete loss. It was one of those moments where I really wished I could talk to my parents.
I eventually fell asleep. Dreamless. Maybe that was a good thing. I was not up to having anymore "realistic" dreams. I'd had enough of those. Of course, I could have dreamed but not remembered any of it. Which was probably also a good thing. Lately, my dreams had been a little off-center. If I had dreamed that night it was probably nothing I wanted to remember anyway.
The next morning I woke up groggy and still tired. I guess I didn't get enough sleep. Staying in bed and sleeping sounded much better than getting up and going to work. It would all work out in the end, but I didn't know that.
So I didn't want any part of Jump Street at first, but I was going to miss it. ("And I can't believe you just admitted to that." "Thank you, Douglas.") And I was going to miss Doug. ("That's so sweet.") But I was going to miss Judy and Iokage more. ("That hurts, Thomas. Quit smirking.")
I'm never in the best of moods when I don't get adequate sleep. It's even worse when I don't get any coffee. I walked into work grumpy and tired ("Yeah, that's never happened before." "Douglas, don't you have something you should be doing?" "Prob'ly"), and flopped down onto the couch, glaring at nothing in particular.
They were all talking about me.
"Somebody's in a bad mood."
"Guess who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
If I wasn't so tired I would've snapped at them. But I just continued to stare at nothing in particular.
Jenko pushed my legs off the couch and sat down next to me. "Okay, sport, what's eatin' you? I know it's more than lack of sleep and coffee."
"I have no idea what I'm gonna do for a job this summer."
"All of you have first priority in whatever you choose."
"Yeah, but I don't know what. They're not gonna let me back on patrol. I've broken too many noses and I still look like I'm fourteen. And there's no way I'm sittin' behind a desk."
"Hey, you'll find somethin', sport. Even if you get stuck with me for the summer. Now go wrap up that case."
"Yes, sir."
"Don't call me—"
"Sir. Yeah, I know." Then I grinned.
"Now that's what I wanna see." He looked at me for a moment. "Now get ta work."
I smiled, got up off the couch and saluted. "See ya, Jenks."
As me and Doug headed to the school (for some reason I let him drive) I asked him what he was planning to do for the summer.
"Intelligence." I'm sure I sounded incredulous, but it was Doug. It wasn't that I didn't believe he could do it. It was just…it was 'Intelligence.' Was Doug trying to grow up on me?
"Yes, Intelligence. It sounds…int'resting to me."
I pursed my lips into a flat smile. "Right."
"You don't believe me." That was a statement from Doug, not a question.
"Yes, I do."
"You have no faith in me."
"Yes, I do."
"So what are you thinking about doing?"
I sighed heavily. "No idea."
"Hey, you got a few weeks."
I slumped down in my seat. "Hmph."
"That's the same attitude you had when we first got to Goddard."
"Whatever."
"Exact attitude."
This went on for most of the morning. I'm glad no one at the school had any clue what we were babbling about. And I was especially glad that they didn't care and avoided us like the plague.
We nabbed the morons who were running the drugs just after the final bell rang. It was the last day of school and the last day of Jump Street. Hopefully, just for the summer.
Back at the Chapel, we gathered together as undercover officers one last time. I tried to be positive.
"I can't believe it's over," Judy said, forlorn.
"We don't know that for sure," Iokage replied. "We could be back in the fall."
"Come on, guys," I said. "This could be the best thing that's ever happened to us." Yeah. Says the guy who has no idea what he's going to do.
Doug looked at me. "Yeah, maybe." He knew I was lying through my teeth.
"Hanson."
I looked up. "Yeah, Jenks?"
"Come here, sport."
As I stood up, Doug had to quip, "He's such a good puppy, isn't he?"
I gave him the 'Shut up, Penhall' look.
"Yeah, Jenks? What's up?" I asked, now standing in front of him.
"I got a job for ya if ya want it."
"What is it?"
"I'm gonna be workin' as a private detective and I want you to be my partner."
My eyes lit up. "Seriously?"
"Never been more serious, sport."
I smiled as he patted and rubbed my shoulder. Okay, so now I knew what I was going to do for the summer. But what I—or any of us—would be doing when fall came around remained to be seen.
i don't recall the doctor being given a name in "Best Years of Your Life" so I gave him one.
A quick note: If you have questions please PM me or if you leave it in a review, please login so I can reply. Thanks.
