Library Tech – thanks for sticking with this and stopping me from throwing in the towel. xxx
Goodnightmysweetprince – thank you so much for your kind review xxx I'd started to think this wasn't any good as people don't seem to be reading it.
Now sat at his desk surrounded by the quiet of the chapel, he scratched absently at the healing wound beneath the flimsy dressing on his wrist. Of all the things to screw up he had to screw that up didn't he? He found himself trying to hold back laughter now that he thought about it, why he didn't know, because he didn't find it the slightest bit funny. In fact he firmly believed it would have been better all round if he had succeeded in his half assed attempt to end all this. After all you can't kill someone if you're not there to do it. In his very humble opinion it wouldn't have been a bad trade off, someone with their whole life ahead of them for someone for who life's mystery had well and truly faded. Had he failed on purpose? Was it some subconscious cry for help? Or just something else he was incapable of doing, being too much of a coward.
He didn't know. What he did know was how good it had felt and the sense of relief he had felt when that black curtain had come down on him. How much of a blessing it had been to slip away into nothingness, even if it was only for a while before he was cruelly swept back.
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He was woken by a loud banging that seemed to vibrate through his entire form. He struggled his way into consciousness, forced his heavy eyes to open and stared as the room came into focus. As he looked around, head resting in his hands, he began to realise that it wasn't a hammer banging on his head, someone was knocking on his front door. Slowly, as he got up, he began to feel that something wasn't right. He felt light headed, weak, slightly nauseous, and there was a strange dull ache in his right arm. It was then that he noticed the empty bottle he was still holding in his hand. "That might explain it." he said to himself as, dizziness assailing him, he grabbed the counter top for support. As he did so he noticed the sticky feel of his right hand and the slightly metallic smell that had begun to spread throughout the room. What had he done? Studying what he now realised was drying blood on his hand he noticed the semi healed gash on his wrist.
"Oh right." he said with mild surprise. "I'm meant to be dead now."
He turned his attention to the dried blood on the floor, and noticing the small puddle he glanced back at his wrist with a puzzled expression on his delicate features. He hadn't cut it nearly deep enough.
"Congratulations, you can't even do that right. It won't even leave a scar"
The banging on the door brought his attention back to his situation as his sour feeling stomach began to turn.
"Hanson, if you're in there open the door man."
"Shit!" he said under his breath. He couldn't let Doug see this. If Penhall knew what he'd done he'd go mad. Luckily he'd decided to bleed to death behind the counter where it wouldn't be seen.
"That was convenient." he said to no one in particular and letting out a small shaky laugh. Then he jumped out of his skin as Doug nearly knocked his front door in.
"HANSON!"
"I'm coming. Hang on, I kinda like my door where it is." With one last glance at the floor and after pulling his sleeve over his blood covered hand he made his way over to the door and yanked it open assuming his usual indignant manner.
"What?" he snapped as he stared Doug straight in the face.
"What took you so long?"
"I was sleeping."
"Sleeping?"
"Yeah. A lot of people do that you know."
"You look really pale. You sick?"
"No, I'm tired. Is there something you wanted Doug?" he said impatiently, wanting to be rid of him as soon as possible. He felt weak and disorientated and really didn't think he could deal with his partner's recriminations right now.
"Can I come in?"
"That depends on what you came round for."
"Well I came to tell you what an asshole you've been but Judy seems to think you need someone to talk to."
"Does she?" Tom said, his manner softening. She did still care, he hadn't completely blown it.
"Of course you haven't. All girls love a nut case."
"So." Came Doug's voice.
"So what?"
"Do you need to talk?"
"Not really?" he shrugged, trying to bring his partner into focus.
"Hanson, do you not remember nearly driving us to our deaths a few hours ago?"
"What?" he asked as he searched his mind for what Doug could be talking about and was shocked to find that he really had no idea what he meant.
"You tried to drive the Mustang into a truck."
"I wouldn't do that." he said suddenly feeling genuinely offended. "My dad would kill me. I've never even taken the car without asking. What?" he asked noticing the strange way Doug was looking at him.
"Your Dad's dead, Tom" he said nervously.
"I know. He has been for a while Doug, what's your point?" he said as his fingers massaged his temples as if he was trying to somehow force his muddled thoughts to knead together.
"Tom, are you sure there's nothing going on you want to talk about." he asked. There was that tone again, the one people usually use on the dying and the mentally ill. Well, he wasn't dying, despite his efforts, and he didn't think he was crazy. Did he?
"Is that why you can't remember trying to turn you and your best friend into road kill?"
"I didn't did I? I wouldn't." he said uncertainly looking up at his friend with wide scared eyes, suddenly the very picture of childhood innocence. Then he felt sick and ashamed as it all came flooding back in a flash of dust and screeching tyres. How could he have done that?
"Hanson!" Doug's voice came drifting through the haze.
"Yeah?" he said blinking stupidly in his partner's direction.
"Where were you just then?"
"Right here."
Doug was visibly getting more and more frustrated with Tom's behaviour. But he had known Tom for too long and he knew exactly which buttons to push and how to get through to him.
"Are you going to tell me why you nearly killed us both or are you going to stand here acting like a stupid child and pretending it didn't happen." Doug snapped viciously
"Hey!" Hanson shouted back at him stopping him in his tracks. "I would never willingly put your life in danger Penhall!" Doug smiled to himself and Tom knew why. He'd admitted he wasn't in control. Doug had done it again, played him like a fiddle.
"Talk to me." Doug said calmly.
"Think about it Doug. Automatic weapons, cops arming children. Does this ring any bells for you?" He felt a strange satisfaction as he saw this sick look on his partners face.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think."
"You never usually do. Your mouth and your brain have always had communication issues."
"Look, I just didn't make the connection ok? I certainly didn't think it would turn you into some nut job who wanted to see us squashed on the asphalt."
"Well, I'm afraid it's a little harder for me to ignore the similarities, seeing as I went to jail and all."
"Ok fine, I'll let it go. But you can't use that one again for at least a week" he said trying to lighten the atmosphere, but as usual only succeeding in putting his foot right in his mouth.
"I'm sorry. Are my issues an inconvenience to you?"
"All I'm saying is that maybe it's time you let that stuff go."
"It's that simple is it?"
"I didn't…."
"Thank you Doug. You've just solved all my problems. Now get out."
"Look, I didn't mean it that way. I know what you went through, and don't for one minute think I make light of it or don't appreciate what it must have been like for you. I'm sorry, I just don't know how to help." Doug finished, the hurt and distress on his face sending Hanson's shame switch into overdrive.
"Don't worry about it" he said with a sigh. He wasn't supposed to get angry. He was Tom Hanson, he was supposed to just take it, accept whatever they gave with grace and good humour.
"But I do. Look at what this is doing to you Tom. Have you seen the state of yourself? This place is a mess, you look like you haven't washed or changed your clothes all week, which for someone so organised you're verging on obsessive compulsive, is a little strange. The way you've been acting lately isn't you. One minute it's like you're this shell and there's nothing there, the next you're erratic and aggressive. The guy I know would never turn up for work pickled."
"It's not the first time I've done it." he said, and Doug could have sworn he detected a note of pride in Tom's voice.
"What?" Doug asked his eyes snapping wide.
"You heard what I said."
"How many times?"
"No idea." Tom said unconcerned. "I can't really remember".
Images of the past few months began to flash through Doug's mind. Tom's strange behaviour at Lincoln during the storm, which at the time he had put down to Hanson's cover, the way he seemed to be on another planet during their trip to Florida, it all began to fall into place.
"You see." Tom said with a smile playing on his lips as he watched Doug's face. "And you never even noticed."
"I never thought that was something I'd have to deal with where you're concerned."
"Since when did I claim I was perfect?" Tom snapped.
"I never thought you were." Doug replied defensively. "Tom, I'm scared for you. There's something going on here and I want to help you but I don't know what to do."
"Don't do anything. I gotta deal with it in my own way."
"Maybe you should pull out. Fuller can put someone else on this case." Doug said concerned. "Maybe you came back too soon. You didn't really get the chance to take time out and deal with what happened." Unfortunately, Tom had known Doug for quite while aswell and he too knew just how to deal with his partner. He'd discovered a long time ago that if you told Doug what he wanted to hear, calmly and sincerely, he'd believe every word you said.
"No, I'm fine, really. Things just started to get to me. I was blowing off some steam, that's all. I knew just what I was doing." he said softly as he met his friends troubled gaze. "Don't you ever just want to let stuff go?"
"I suppose so." Doug replied. "But nearly killing us both?"
"Since when did you start being a drama queen?" Tom said petulantly
"I usually get a little sensitive when my best friend tries to put me in an early grave."
"You weren't in any danger Doug. I wouldn't do that to you."
"Really? Tommy wouldn't. I don't about you though"
""I really wanna believe you Tom."
"You don't really believe I'd try to kill you?" he said softly, putting on his most pained and hurt expression.
"You really should have been an actor you know. Marlon Brando's got nothing on you!"
"No!" Doug said trying to sound reassuring. Tom could see him gradually making himself accept what he was telling him. For a moment he felt guilty. This was his best friend, the only one who had never doubted him, well not for long anyway, and he was lying right to his face. He knew Doug would walk through fire if he asked him to, walk over hot coals in bare feet with him on his back if he had to, that he would protect him from pretty much everything, just like he'd always tried to do. He had been like the older brother Tom never had, the one he so desperately wanted and needed as he was growing up. The brother that lonely, scared and over loaded kid had wished and prayed for in those few months after his father died and all the responsibilities had fallen on his scared and confused shoulders. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than for Doug to pull him into his arms and let him cry, to act like that older brother and protect him. But how could he protect him from any of this? Where would he even begin to explain? So as quickly as that desire had risen he shook it off and went for the kill.
"I'd never do anything to hurt you and Clavo."
"I know." Doug sighed wearily. Then his eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of Hanson's blood crusted hand. "What did you do?" he yelled.
"What now?" Tom replied rolling his eyes.
"Your hand." Doug said reaching out and taking hold of Tom's right arm, Hanson looked at his hand in panic and tried desperately to hold back the guilty look that was fighting its way onto his features.
"It's no big deal. I broke some glass and I cut myself clearing it up." he said pulling away from Doug's grip.
"Bravo! Only bending the truth this time huh?"
"You should clean that."
"Yes mom!" he said sarcastically before his head began to spin and he pitched forward through the doorway.
"Whoa, what's going on?" Doug yelled as he caught Hanson before he managed to hit the floor and began to lead him inside.
"Nothing." he said weakly as Doug helped him to the couch.
"Let me see that cut." Doug demanded in a panic as he grabbed Tom's arm.
"Don't touch me." Hanson snapped, snatching his arm away as if Doug's hand was on fire. "I told you it was fine"
"So you nearly just passed out for no reason?" he said searching his friends face. Noticing the glassy stare in his eyes and smelling the whiskey on his breath, Doug came to his own conclusions.
"Have you been drinking again?" he snapped. Seeing an opportunity to wriggle out of the situation, Tom jumped at the excuse.
"Yes Doug, I have." he replied, giving up his effort to keep his speech steady.
"Don't you think you've done a bit too much of that recently?"
"So?"
Doug looked into his partner's defiant face and was once again struck by how pale he was. The suspicion that had been nagging at him since he first saw blood on his friend forced its way to the front of his mind causing his stomach to turn. Before Hanson could move away Doug's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. He pulled up the sleeve and his stomach rolled as he stared wide eyed at the gash across his partner's wrist.
"Did you do this to yourself?" he asked in disbelief.
"Of course not." Tom replied, doing a very convincing job of sounding offended. "I told you what happened."
"Why don't I believe you?" Doug said coldly.
"Ok, fine. I did it alright. Happy now?"
"No. I am far from happy." Doug replied as he passed his hands over his face. "Why would you do this?"
"I wanted to see what would happen."
"You wanted so see what would happen? You'd die, that's what would happen." Doug yelled looking at Tom as if he didn't know him. Was this really the same guy who took it on himself to save an entire school from suicide?
"What was I supposed to you without you Tom? You're my best friend"
"Maybe you should learn to be a better judge of character and choose you friends more carefully."
"Jesus Christ! You're all the same. No thought for the ones you leave behind. No thought for the poor bastard who has to be the one to find you. Who did you think that was going to be? Me? Harry? Judy? That would have been real fun for her wouldn't it?"
"Never even thought about it." Tom spat.
"Do you really wanna die?"
"What if I'm already dead?"
"What?" Doug said blinking stupidly at his best friend. "Hanson have you completely lost your mind?"
"That's what you think isn't it?" Hanson spat.
"No I don't. I think you have a problem. What I don't understand is how you let it get so far that you thought this was the only way."
"Look around you Doug. I'm 25 years old with nothing to show for it but a single bedroom apartment in a lousy area and a million memories that I don't want." Tom shouted.
"We've all got those Tom. The difference is the rest of us don't try and take ourselves out. I don't even recognise you anymore, man"
"Fine Doug. I screwed up again ok. I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry. Just tell me what the hell is going on." he said, but Tom offered no explanation, he simply stared back blankly. Suddenly pure rage rose up in Doug's guts and he stood over Hanson with his eyes blazing.
"Look what you've done to yourself Tom." he seethed as he reached down and roughly grabbed hold of Hanson's injured arm. "Look at it!" he screamed in the smaller mans face. "You could have bled to death. Is that what you want?" Still no reply. "I said is that what you want?!" Doug yelled.
"What do you want from me Doug?" Tom asked in his calm soft voice.
"I want you tell me that this isn't happening. I want some sign that you still give a damn. I want to you to show me that you still care whether you live or die."
"Of course I do."
"Then prove it."
"And how am I going to do that Doug?"
"Come on." Doug said with a sigh.
"What?" Hanson asked suspiciously.
"Well that might need stitches."
"So?"
"So, we're going to the hospital to get it sorted."
"I'm not going to any hospital."
"Yes you are."
"Why, so they can treat me like some nut? Doug, I don't want anyone else to know. Please." Tom pleaded desperately.
"I can't take care of this on my own." Doug said, his voice sounding much calmer than he felt. Looking down into his friends face he felt nothing but panic.
"Yes you can. It's not that deep really. See." Tom said holding his arm out for Doug to see looking up at him with wide eyes. He could just about cope with Judy hating him, he deserved it, but the thought of Doug hating him was unbearable. Doug looked calmly back at him, pretty sure he could see the child Hanson had once been in the face looking up at him.
"Ok. What do I do." He sighed.
"There's a first aid box in the bathroom. There should be some bandages in there."
"Tom, I'm really not sure about this."
"It'll be ok. It won't need stitches, trust me."
"I used to" Doug said under his breath as he headed for the bathroom.
"Not even your best friend trusts you. Oh dear Tommy, you have made quite a mess of things haven't you?"
"I didn't mean for him to find out."
"Well he did. His mom killed herself, how do you think he feels knowing his best friend just tried to do the same thing?"
"If I'd have wanted myself dead I would have done it."
"This was a cry for help then was it?" Doug asked bitterly as he re-entered the room, startling Tom from his thoughts.
"Well?"
"Maybe, I don't know." Hanson replied frantically raking his hands through his hair. "Why are you so angry? You told me to do it."
"What did you say?" Doug said in disbelief.
"If you want to kill yourself, man, fine. Go for it. Just make sure next time there's only you in the car" Tom said, doing his best Doug Penhall expression. "Well this time I was the only one in the car."
"Don't you dare try and pin this one on me Tom. This is all down to you." he said angrily.
"That's right Doug, it's always my fault isn't it. Everything that's happened to me is my fault, right?"
"No, I'm sorry I didn't mean that." Doug sighed, walking on eggshells when you're Doug Penhall's size was never going to be easy. "Why didn't you just talk to me? Everything we've been through we've faced together. What made this so different?"
"Maybe I didn't want to face this."
"Tom, what's going on?" he asked as he took hold of Hanson's arm and attempted to clean the wound.
"Aren't we just going round in circles here?"
"We can go round in circles as long as it takes." Penhall replied, letting go of Hanson as he noticed him flinch. "Sorry did that hurt?"
"Yes" Tom snapped.
"Good."
"Tell him. You need help."
But he didn't want Doug's help. All he wanted was to be left alone. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to think, just wanted to be alone with the quiet and sleep until none of it made any difference anymore. The thought of sleep pulled desperately at him, that and the thought of the Jack Daniels he had picked up on the way home. Of course sleeping always brought nightmares, but they hadn't bothered him for a long time. They were like old friends. It was waking up he couldn't deal with. For that cruel split second when he woke up everything would be fine, then it would all come rushing back and then all he'd want to do is sleep again.
"I don't understand you man. It wasn't all that long ago when you were the great crusader against suicide who was going to save everyone."
"Maybe I got tired of trying to save people." Tom sighed. "I don't see anyone trying to save us do you?"
"What do you think I'm doing here Hanson?" Penhall cried in frustration.
"I'm sorry." came his automatic response.
"I've told you I don't want your apology, I want you to talk to me."
"What do you think this past year has been like for me Doug?"
"Pretty rough I'd guess."
"Like sleepwalking."
"What?"
"You know this didn't even hurt." he said distantly, gazing at the cut on his wrist as Doug began to bandage it as tightly as he dared. Doug looked at him, his face as mask of deep concern.
"You remember me asking you what was the point in survival if you didn't like what you'd become?"
"Yeah?" Doug replied warily.
"Well, I'm still trying to figure that one out."
"What do you mean?"
"How many more lives have to be ruined because of us Doug?"
"We don't ruin lives, our job is to protect people."
"You were protecting Jeff Logan were you?" Tom asked ignoring the hurt on his partners face.
"No. I was protecting his daughter."
"From what Doug? He was innocent, just like Ronnie." he finished distantly
"Ronnie was far from innocent."
"He didn't deserve to die."
"Maybe not, but neither do you."
"I deserved to go to prison."
"Don't say things like that."
"Why not. It's true. Were not exactly innocent ourselves Doug."
"Whatever we've done is for the greater good."
"I used to think that." Tom said quietly. Penhall glanced over at him trying to interpret the expression on his pale face.
"You know Hanson, we're not exactly the bad guys either."
"I know." he said softly. "We just blindly follow orders, don't we?" he said letting out a small bitter laugh. "We may as well have signed up for the army. We're sent out there risking our lives to fight without even knowing what the hell we're fighting for. The only difference is there's no hero's welcome for us. There's no ceremony when one of us is killed. And what do we do? We just tell ourselves we're fighting for what we believe in, even if we've forgotten what it was we believed in to being with."
"And have you?"
"I don't know." Tom said raising his eyes to meet Doug's gaze. Doug shivered as he looked back at those empty dark pools.
"That should do it" he said lightly looking away as he secured the bandage.
"I'll be as good as new before you know it." Tom said offering a weak smile.
"You sure about that?"
"Doug….."
"Have you seen anyone about all this?" he asked softly. Tom let out a sad chuckle.
"The magic cure. Spend a few hours telling your inner most thoughts to a complete stranger and you'll be fixed."
"It might help."
"Paying some guy to tell me what I already know? I don't think so."
"Ok. Then will you at least go to the hospital and get a doctor to check that out."
"I don't need a doctor." Suddenly seeing a way out of this Hanson made a show of checking the clock on the wall. "Hey, what time is it? Shouldn't you be picking up Clavo?"
"Not till 6."
"Doug, it's nearly half past."
"Shit! Not again. The kids gonna have social services on me."
"Not if you hurry." Tom said with a slight smile.
"I'm not leaving you like this."
"I'm not going to try anything else Doug, I promise."
"Hanson…."
"If I really wanted to kill myself Doug, I'd have done it."
"I know, you said" Doug sighed. "You'll be ok right?"
"Yes."
"Sure"
"I'm fine Penhall, go."
"Ok. Don't forget we gotta meet Casey around 8."
"Yes I know." he said impatiently.
"And at least try and keep from doing anything else stupid."
He sat stunned by Doug's parting shot. As he watched him race away he jumped up as best he could and followed him out into the hallway. When Doug was nearly at the top of the stairway the person buried deep down inside the shell that looked like Tom Hanson suddenly gained control of the voice.
"Doug!" he shouted out desperately as he began to follow him down the hallway.
"What?" he spun round at once looking concerned. Unfortunately that long suppressed soul wasn't strong enough to keep control very long and he was forced quickly back down where he came from. What was the point in screaming when there was no one there to listen?
"About today. I'm sorry."
"I know." Doug said.
"Are we good?"
"I'll let you know." the larger man replied. "I used to believe I could trust you with my life. I don't know if I can do that anymore." he finished quietly then disappeared down the stairs leaving Tom watching after him, feeling empty and numb.
"You're getting very good at that you know."
"What?"
"Lying."
"It's what they pay me for." he said as he turned back into his apartment and closed the door.
He surveyed the mess of glass and blood and began digging around in the cupboards for something to clean it away while Doug's parting words echoed in his ears. He knelt down and poured water on the pool of dried blood and couldn't imagine what the hell he thought he was doing.
"You thought you wanted to die."
"But I don't." he said resolutely
"No. You just thought you could get rid of it, just like you did before."
"I don't know what you're talking about".
"You're lying again Tommy."
"You know something Booker. You were an ass when I knew you and you're an even bigger ass now you've gone."
"Can't run from the truth Tommy!" came the words as if they were an echo from his dream. But he couldn't run from the truth. That was the problem. And the truth was he really didn't want to die. Dying's easy, it's living that's the hard part. He certainly didn't want his best friend to be the one to have found him. But he didn't want this life, that was also true. He wanted a life that meant something, one that still held the possibility for hopes and dreams. And as he knelt on his kitchen floor scrubbing away at his own bloodstains, his head spinning and aching, Doug's parting words echoing in his ears, he found himself wishing that lives were like different rooms and that you could go from one to another as easily as stepping through a doorway. Wishing that once you were through you could close and lock that door and turn your back on it for good.