Thanks as always Library Tech and Ghostwriter. Always good to hear from you xx
And thanks to Debbiets. I'm not used to being called intelligent ;0) xx It's nice to know you're enjoying reading my little tale.
Doug carried a disgruntled Clavo hurriedly up the steps to Jump Street Chapel, his mind reeling and threatening to revolt against him. No matter how many times he tried to reassure himself that he had done the right thing, that Hanson might be many things, but suicidal wasn't one of them, he still couldn't shake the feeling that his friend was in serious trouble. He knew he shouldn't have left him alone, but Clavo came first. The kid always had to be his priority. He hoped Hanson understood that, in fact the part of Doug Penhall that knew Tom Hanson better than anyone had the sneaking suspicion that his partner not only understood that, but had been counting on it. He needed help here, as much as he could get.
A relived smile crossed his face as he entered the building and saw the glow of the light still shining through the glass of the door to Fullers office. He had hoped he'd still be here, of course where else would Fuller be?
"Penhall, what are you doing here. Have you no life to get back to?" came Sal Banducci's cheery voice from behind him as he and Harry wandered over. Intent on his mission, Doug simply handed the young boy to the scruffy janitor and smiled absently at the young Vietnamese man.
"Keep an eye on him will you?" he said distantly as he headed towards Fullers door. Sal glanced over at Harry, shrugged and grinned at the little boy in his arms.
"Come on kid, let's see what we have round here for you to play with."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Come in" Fuller called as heard the knock on the door. He was slightly surprised to see Penhall walk through the doorway. "Doug? What are you doing here so late?"
"Can I talk to you?"
"Doors always open Doug." he said with a sigh as he closed his filing cabinet and sat down at his desk. When he had signed on for this job he never thought he'd have to play counsellor to these kids. He was so fond of his young officers, but they seemed to live inside some never ending soap opera of which he was an unwitting participant. "What's on your mind?"
"It's Tom, Captain."
"What about him?"
"Well I'm worried about him. He seems really strung out."
"How?" Fuller said calmly as he listened intently to the younger man. He had been watching Hanson very closely over the past few months and there were things that had caused him concern. His detachment had been worrying to say the least. He had found it strange that Hanson, who knew every word of every code like the back of his hand, had been so disinterested in sitting the detective's exam. Fuller could have swung it so he could sit it in a second, but he hadn't wanted to. Hanson had always been so passionate and fiery, so much so that Fuller had found it difficult to accept this placid and unquestioning version of the young man that kept popping up these days. Well, he was placid and unquestioning when he wasn't framing kids for possessing fire arms. That had been even more unsettling. Hanson had always been so by the book, and always so intent on helping these kids. More than that, he had been locked away for someone else's crime, and the idea that Tom would even think of letting an innocent kid take the fall for him seemed inconceivable.
"You've seen the way he's been lately. Captain, sometimes when you talk to him it's like he's not even there, like he's on some other planet and he doesn't even see you."
"Yeah, I got that feeling yesterday."
"I can't even remember the last time I saw him smile when he wasn't pretending to be someone else. In fact the only time he seems content is when he is someone else."
"What are you trying to tell me Doug?"
"I don't know. I think he came back too soon." Doug said simply sitting down heavily at the chair opposite Fuller's desk, then deciding he felt better standing he began pacing back and forth in front of him.
"Why?" Fuller asked, content to let Doug talk and vent his worries.
"When he was released, I picked him up, he drove home grabbed some clothes then brought us straight back here. He didn't even take five minutes to rest Captain."
"It's understandable he would want to get back to normal as soon as possible Doug."
"But what he went through wasn't normal. He never had time to adjust to being free again before he came back here and had all this responsibility dumped on his shoulders again. And then to come back here and face all these people who gave up on him and turned their backs on him, that can't have been easy."
"He knows we all believe in him." Fuller said quietly.
"I didn't mean you Captain." he said apologetically. "Then there's this case. It's really messing with his head. I know it was hard for Harry to have to deal with this, but it's not easy for Tom either."
"I understand what you're saying Doug, but what do you expect me to do about it? If Hanson wants to continue being a cop he's going to have to learn to put things aside, these cases are going to come along, and he's going to have to deal with them."
"But so soon?"
"You really think he's struggling?" Fuller said, deep concern evident in his rich deep voice.
"Yeah, I do. He's drinking way too much and he's acting really weird."
"Ok. I'll talk to him, but you know Hanson, you can't make him do anything. If he wants me to pull him out, it's done, but if not there's not much I can do. After all this is done, I'll see about getting him some time off."
"That might not help Captain Fuller." Doug said darkly.
"What's going on Doug?" Fuller asked, suspicion in his deep voice. Penhall looked back at him, his mind in torment. He kept seeing Hanson's face when he pleaded with him not to tell anyone. But this wasn't like the times he'd skated round procedure and Doug had covered for him, this was serious.
"I think he tried to kill himself this afternoon." Doug said quietly, staring intently at the floor.
"He what?" Fuller blurted out as he jumped up from his seat. Doug nodded nervously. "Is he alright?"
"I think so, for now anyway."
"How did he do it?"
"Does that make any difference?"
"It kinda tells us how serious he was."
"I don't think he was that serious." Doug replied, trying to convince himself more than his captain.
"What did he do Penhall?"
"He cut his wrist." Doug yelled, before stammering on frantically. "But it wasn't that deep. He was a little dizzy and pale but apart from that….."
"Doug, slow down" Fuller said gently. "Is he ok?"
"I really don't know sir."
"How was he when you found him?"
"I dunno. Kind of disorientated and pale. He tried to hide it but he nearly passed out while we were talking."
"How long had he been like that?"
"Hard to say."
"Try and say Doug. Was the blood clotting? Still flowing?"
"I can't remember" he said frustrated. He had been trying so hard not to look at what Hanson had done to himself that he hadn't really been able to tell. "I think it was starting to scab over."
"Had he lost a lot of blood?" Fuller asked calmly, trying to keep his own panic under control. Doug looked back blankly as he realised he had no idea. He didn't even know what he'd used to cut himself with.
"I don't know." Doug said helplessly. "I never even thought to check, I was too busy screaming at him." He said, his voice raising as his slammed his fist into the nearest filing cabinet. "My best friend tried to kill himself and I just left him."
"It's ok Doug."
"No it's not! I should have stayed and kept an eye on him, let him talk some more." he ranted.
"Penhall….."
"But I was late getting Clavo. The kid comes first Captain, you understand that don't you?"
"Of course."
"I tried to make him go to the hospital but he wouldn't go, so I sorted it myself. It really wasn't that deep." Doug said desperately.
"I believe you Doug." Fuller said trying to clam the younger man. "Did he tell you why he did it?"
"Not really. Guilt I think. He's been beating himself up over Ronnie Seebok and Kenny Wheckerly for a while now, and I don't think he's really ever gotten over Amy." He said before looking away uncomfortably. "I think he's still having problems with what happened."
"You mean prison?" Fuller asked. Doug nodded his head. "That's to be expected." Fuller said thoughtfully.
"You know he's never actually talked about what happened in there. He barely even mentions it." he said feeling a twinge of guilt as he recalled unfairly ribbing Tom for using prison as an excuse.
"Don't you think that maybe he's trying to put it behind him?"
"I think what happened today pretty much shows he hasn't. It's not just that though. There's so much going on in there" Doug said tapping a finger to his temple. "and I can't seem to get through." he finished as he turned his hazel eyes on his commanding officer, those usually cheerful eyes showing nothing but worry and fear. Fuller's heart ached for the young bear like officer who, at this moment looked more like a wounded puppy.
"I'm sure you did what you could Doug. Hanson's never gonna tell you anything if he doesn't want to, no matter what you do."
"I know that." Doug said almost apologetically. "Irritating, stubborn little runt." he finished under his breath, raising a slight smile from the older man.
"Does anyone else know about this?" Fuller asked.
"No."
"Ok, keep it that way for now. The last thing he needs is to feel we're all ganging up on him."
"This isn't like it was with Amy, Captain, I could deal with that. This is different. I really don't think he cares what happens to him anymore. What's wrong with him?"
"I'm not an expert Doug, despite what I like you guys to think."
"So take a guess." Doug said desperately.
"How much have you heard about post traumatic stress syndrome?"
"Not much. You think that's what it is?"
"I don't know, maybe."
"That's for people who've been in wars and stuff isn't it?"
"It can affect anyone who's been through a traumatic and stressful experience. I think it's safe to say we could put any of you guys into that category."
"I guess so." Doug sighed. "He's been through so much, we all have. Captain, he's my best friend, please help him."
"I'll do what I can Doug."
"You'll talk to him?"
"I'll try."
"You won't tell him I talked to you will you? If he finds out he'll kill me."
"I won't tell him anything Doug."
"So what will you do?"
"I'll make him tell me."
"You think that will work?"
"We'll see."
"What are you going to do?" Doug asked harshly as his overprotective streak kicked in.
"I don't know yet, Doug. But I'll do whatever I can. In the meantime, we'll all keep an eye on him."
"Anything that might help." Doug said looking at his commanding officer gratefully. "Thanks Captain." He loved Tom dearly, and he would do absolutely anything for him but he was relieved to have some of the responsibility for his welfare lifted from his shoulders. He had spent most of his adult life looking after him and it had become such a weight over the years, which was funny as Hanson actually weighed very little.
"Doug." Fuller called as Doug turned to leave. "If he does anything that causes you anymore concern don't be afraid to come to me ok?" he finished, convinced the younger man was hiding something. Doug nodded and left the room.
Fuller watched him leave, concern in his serious dark eyes. He had always been proud of how close his team was, especially Penhall and Hanson. Doug's fiercely protective streak and Hanson's unflinching loyalty and compassion had meant that he never really had to worry when he sent them out into the field. He always knew they would take care of each other and it made his job a lot easier. But over the years it had seemed that the happiness of one had begun to depend heavily on the well being of the other, it had been all too clear while watching Doug after Hanson had been sent down, and he had begun to wonder weather this was entirely healthy.
As Doug entered the main office he couldn't suppress a grin when he heard Clavo's giggle echo through the almost empty room. He was perched on the edge of Doug's desk, a smiling Harry standing guard behind in case he fell, as Sal stood before him showing the boy exactly why people called him Blowfish.
"Vaminos little buddy." he said as he picked the kid up effortlessly in his arms. "I should have been your agent." he said to Blowfish with a grin. "We could have made a killing."
"I don't think they're quite ready for my unique talent out there." Sal replied with a cheerful grin.
"Nah, with the right kind of representation you could clean up."
"You mean with your kind of representation?" Sal replied.
"Hey, I discovered you."
"True, But if it was up to you I'd be stood in front of a crowd full of first cousins with only three teeth between them."
"Rule number one Sal," Doug said reproachfully. "Never insult your audience." he said with a grin. Then glancing round the room he asked "Where's Judy?"
"She said there was something she had to see Hanson about." Sal replied as Harry's eyes widened. Doug, however felt a ten tonne weight lift from his chest. If Hanson had done anything else stupid Judy would have raised the alarm by now.
"Everything ok with Fuller?" Harry asked, his eyes that had been so full of laughter just seconds ago now filled with concern.
"Yeah, fine." Doug replied cagily. "I gotta go. See you Sal" he finished as he smiled at the small scruffy man.
"Sure." Sal replied.
Harry followed after him, telling himself that this time he wasn't going to just let it go.
"Hey Doug?"
"What's up Harry?"
"I need to talk to you."
"Make it quick can you, this little guy's kinda tired."
"Ok fine." Harry said impatiently. "I'll get straight to the point then." Judy still had the scrap of paper Tom had been scribbling on, but it didn't matter. What had been printed on that page was stamped forever on his memory. "Does the number 77988 mean anything to you?" he asked, scanning Doug's face intently as he did so, witnessing the colour drain away before the shadow of anger flitted briefly across his features. Of course he knew what it meant. He had seen it written down so many times and heard it repeated during countless phone calls when dealing with anything to with Hanson over those horrible few months. What he didn't know was how the hell Harry knew about it.
"Yeah. It was Hanson's roll number when he was in Fulsom. Why?" he said trying to sound nonchalant and unconcerned, but not being entirely successful. For a moment Harry toyed with the idea of telling Doug everything Hanson had told him, whether he had been aware of it or not. But what if he found out that he'd told Doug. Tom would probably not trust him again, and then who would be there for him to turn too? No, best to keep his word.
"I've just been sorting through paperwork and it kept popping up. I was curious." Ioki replied, also failing to convince. "Doug, have you noticed anything weird about Hanson lately?"
"You mean aside from playing with guns? Not really."
"You don't think that was a little strange?"
"He was just in a bad mood. You know Hanson. He'll get over it."
"Yeah sure." Harry sighed. "He hasn't said anything that's made you feel a little nervous?"
"Hanson always makes me nervous Iokage." Doug said with a grin. "You'll have to be more specific."
"Has he ever mentioned hearing things you can't?"
"What?" Doug said as his eyes became unnaturally wide and he let out a small nervous laugh. "Are you saying Hanson's some kind of nut job?"
"No" Harry said defensively.
"Good. Because he isn't." he said still not sounding entirely convinced himself.
"Doug, Judy told me what happened?". Doug's head shot up and he glared at Harry in panic wondering how Judy had known what happened, before he realised that Harry meant the events of much earlier that day. Harry noticed the panic flit across the larger man's face and it made him uneasy.
"He was goofing around Harry. That's all."
"That not what Judy said you told her."
"Yeah, well I over reacted."
"Doug, what aren't you telling me?"
"Let me deal with Tom, ok. He's fine, trust me"
"Really? What were you talking to Fuller about?"
"Err… our case?" Doug replied as if Harry had asked the most ridiculous question ever.
"What about it?"
"We've got a meeting with the dealer tomorrow. It was Casey Moore this whole time." He said laughing slightly. "I'm sorry Iokage, but I've really gotta go." he said as he shifted the struggling Clavo into a more secure position.
"Doug…"
"Gotta go" he shouted over his shoulder as he made his way as quickly as possible towards the exit.
"If there's anything you want to tell us Doug, you know where to find us." Harry called out watching after him suspiciously as he left, Clavo peering over his shoulder with his bright little eyes as he waved goodbye.
Now with nothing for him to do but wait and pace the hallways Harry could help letting his mind wonder. Looking back he kicked himself for not pushing Doug further, for all the things he should have done differently. He was sure that there was something that Penhall and Hanson were keeping from him. But he knew it was pointless asking Hanson, and he couldn't really ask Doug right now. In a way he couldn't blame Doug. He had done the same thing. He guessed for the same reason Doug hadn't wanted to hear himself tell people what was happening. Hearing it out loud made it real and it was hard to admit that someone you had come to depend on so heavily was crumbling right in front of you.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The room was familiar. He recognised the pictures on the mantelpiece, knew every face by heart, and recognised every painting on the wall. The furniture was exactly the same as it had been his entire life. Even his mother's favourite ornament he had chipped when he was tiny was still on display. But something was very wrong. He could hear a woman crying, sobbing like her heart would break, her wails cutting through him like razor wire, but he couldn't work out where it was coming from. She had to be in the house somewhere, it sounded too close.
As he spun round searching the room for any sign of the woman he spotted another presence in the room. A young kid with dark hair stood with his back to him, focused on a large object in front of him. The kid reminded him of Casey Moore, he definitely couldn't have been much older. He wasn't much bigger either. He took a step towards the figure and opened his mouth to speak when a voice came from the figure before him.
"When is she going to stop?" came the boy's quiet soft voice. He'd heard that voice before, but for the life of him he couldn't place it. "She never stops, hasn't in days. She doesn't even stop to sleep." the boy sighed. "She wouldn't eat or drink if I didn't remind her to."
"Where is she?" he asked, not sure why, but the idea this kid should be forced to listen to her wails seemed altogether wrong.
"Upstairs. Same place she's been for the past week. She won't leave the room. I'm supposed to be taking care of her, but I can't even get her to walk through a doorway."
"Is there anyone to help you with her?"
"No. It's my job now." The boy replied, steely determination in his voice. "That's what they said. You're the man of the house now, you've got to look after her. I am trying." He heard those words as if from a great distance, like daggers in his heart. "This lady came round the other day, I don't know who she was, said she wanted to help us but my mom wouldn't let her in the house. That's the only time she's left her room."
"I'm sure you're doing your best." he tried to reassure him, his own voice beginning to waver. He felt like he should comfort the kid somehow, but for reasons he couldn't explain he didn't want to touch him.
"It can't be good enough. If I was taking care of her properly she would have stopped crying by now."
"Why is she crying?" he asked, for some reason dreading the answer. The boy simply pointed to the object he was so focused on, which he now realised was a large oak coffin. What was a coffin doing in here? There was never a coffin in here. Was there?
"My dad" the kid said calmly. "It happened last week."
"I'm sorry." He swallowed nervously. "So the lady upstairs…."
"My mom" he replied matter of factly. "That's my dad in there, shouldn't someone be looking after me?"
"She's grieving. It'll be ok." he said taking a deep breath. "Why is the coffin here?"
"I ran out of money, I couldn't pay them to store it, and I don't know how to get to my parents bank account." He shrugged still keeping his back to him. "They nailed down the lid. I want to go with him, but I can't open it."
"You don't mean that."
"It's gotta be better than this."
"The pain goes away, I promise." he said, sounding very unconvincing.
"You're lying." Came that calm soft voice.
"I've gotten pretty good at it." He said with a rueful smile.
"You've done a lot of damage with that talent haven't you?"
"Yeah."
"I was going to make him so proud of me you know. I wanted to be just like him"
"Your dad?"
"Yeah. I was going to grow up to be someone he could really be proud of."
"I bet he will be."
"How can he be? I won't get the chance now." the boy said slowly turning to face him revealing high prominent cheekbones and wide deep brown eyes staring out from the pale face. "Why did you let them kill me?" he asked fixing an intense stare on him. He gasped, realising he was looking into the dark, hurt filled, but completely dry, eyes of his sixteen year old self.
"I didn't."
"You're lying again. How did you get so good at it? I could never lie. Mom and Dad knew I was lying as soon as I opened my mouth."
"This can't be happening. This is crazy." he said shaking his head.
"No, I'm afraid you're crazy." the boy said sadly.
"No I'm not."
"You have been for a very long time."
"You're not real."
"I'm as real as you are. And you still haven't answered my question. Why did you let them kill me?"
He opened his mouth to reply but the words stopped dead as he heard a cry from upstairs.
"TOMMY!" he heard the woman yell. The boy put his hands over his ears and began to violently shake his head.
"Make her stop. Please. Please make her stop."
"TOMMY WHERE ARE YOU?".
He reached out and gently pulled his hands away, noticing a scar he had had for years wasn't there yet. If he remembered rightly the scars wouldn't start appearing until after the funeral.
"You have to go look after her. It's your job."
"I can't do it anymore." the kid said weakly.
"You have to."
"Why do I have to?". He had no answer to that. "And why should I listen to you. You're a murderer."
"No I'm not." he protested his voice beginning to sound more and more like the teen stood before him. Both their heads spun round as there came a banging from the wooden box behind them. The kid turned scared eyes on his older self.
"Why did you let them do it?" His older self screwed his eyes shut tight and tried to shut out the banging from the coffin, the relentless questioning from the kid in front of him and the distraught cries from the woman upstairs. His eyes flew open as rough hands grabbed hold of his wrists and he found himself face to face with the white face and cold dead eyes of Ronnie Seebok.
"Why man?" he asked. But that wasn't Ronnie's voice, he was sure of it. That voice was….
"Matty?" he said as the kid appeared before him.
"Tell me why goddamit!" he almost screamed in the officers face.
"I don't know." he whispered back weakly. Matty just smiled and continued looking back as the banging from the coffin grew louder and the woman upstairs continued calling.
"TOM!" Only it wasn't his mother's voice. It was Amy's, calling out the only word he could ever remember that voice saying. His hands flew to his ears but they couldn't shield him from the maddening cacophony that was assailing him. Over and over he heard them.
Knock knock knock.
"Why did you let them kill me?"
"Tom"
"Tom!"
His eyes flew open, his breath coming rapid and sharp, and he found himself on his couch, in his living room. Not his mom's living room all those years ago. And that voice calling out his name wasn't his mom and it wasn't Amy.
"Judy?" he called out dazed.
"Please let me in."
He looked desperately at his surroundings, trying to make them real. He didn't know how long he had been asleep, he couldn't even remember lying on the couch. He let out a sigh as his fingers gripped his hair, almost pulling a handful out, before unsteadily getting to his feet. What was she doing here?"
"Persistent little thing isn't she? Or maybe she's just too stupid to quit."
He screwed his eyes shut tight trying to be rid of the nagging, taunting voice, telling himself it didn't matter. She was stood outside. She hadn't given up on him after all. Taking a deep breath to try and slow his breathing he walked towards the door and slowly, tentatively, began to turn the handle, scared that when he opened the door all he would see would be the empty hallway. But when the door swung back she was there, her brightness piercing his eyes and making his heart ache. Why was it that the only person who could make him feel whole again was the focus of so much of his anger?
"Because you don't get to be whole. How many times do you have to hear this? You're not well at all Tommy."
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice cold and distant, while inside he was screaming out for her to wrap her arms around him and never let go and that scared soul inside him was begging for help. The distant shell on the outside however was totally oblivious to the horrified expression on the young woman's face as she met his eyes.
"You look terrible."
"Thanks." he said dryly, "What do you want?"
"I wanted to talk to you. I think we have a few things we need to sort out, don't you?"
"No."
"Call me strange Hanson, but when someone I care about tells me he loves me I find that pretty difficult to ignore. Especially when he's falling to pieces in front of my eyes."
"Still got everything attached as far as I know" he said flashing a brief smile.
"Hanson…"
"Look, I've already spoken to your not so little errand boy. Why don't you ask him all the details and give me some peace?"
"Because I can't." she said, trying to keep her frustration and hurt under control. "Did you mean it?"
"What?"
"What you said yesterday morning?"
"What did I say?"
"You don't remember? There's a shock, considering your blood was probably 70 proof by the time you got in yesterday."
"Well then you'll excuse me if my memory's a little hazy."
"Dammit Hanson, stop this. Did you mean it?"
"If I meant it every time I got trashed and told a girl I loved her I'd be in quite a bit of trouble don't you think?"
"Are you deliberately trying to hurt me?"
"Yes!"
"Of course not."
"Then stop this and talk to me."
"What's wrong Judy? Doug not get enough dirt for you so you thought you'd come and make the little puppet dance some more?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Doug came here off his own bat."
"You expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with Doug's little visit?"
He laughed softly. Usually that laugh was capable of driving her wild, she hated how much like a love sick teenager she sounded, but his laugh could make her heart sing. But at that moment it sent shivers through her of a very different kind. The laugh didn't touch his eyes and it sounded cold and empty. It was like an echo in a vast empty cave.
"You think after all this time I don't know when you guys are plotting?"
"We're not plotting anything Hanson"
"You think I don't know what you're doing? Whispering in corners with your heads bent together."
"We don't whisper in corners. We're your friends and we worry about you."
"Why?"
"Because you're changing so fast it's like we don't know you anymore."
"Why does there have to be something wrong with me just because my behaviour doesn't match your expectations?"
"Because in the four years I've known you we hardly had a cross word between us. I've never seen you deliberately hurt anyone, or endanger someone's life" she said staring intently in those strangely distant eyes looking for some reaction. But there was nothing in those eyes. For a moment she came to the awful conclusion that Tom wasn't there.
"He told you." He said flatly.
"Of course he told me. He cares about you."
"And you expect me to believe you aren't talking behind my back?"
"Listen to yourself. You sound like a spoilt child."
"Isn't that supposed to be my job?"
"You used to think of it as more than a job."
"Yeah well, things change." he said quietly.
"Not this much. "
"Do you think maybe you didn't know me so well in the first place?"
"Maybe I didn't."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just how many versions of you are walking round lately Hanson?"
"Why? Is one not enough for you?" he said with a sly smile.
"I'd just like to know which one I'm talking to because one of them told me yesterday I was his only reason for living. Then there's this other one who seems to get a kick out of hurting his friends." she said as calmly as she could.
"I don't know." he said in barely a whisper as he suddenly became very interested in the floor. She watched his face intently, unfathomable expressions flitting across his still too youthful face. She often thought it cruel and somehow wrong that someone that had been through so much could still look so innocent.
"She's right you know. You haven't a clue where you are, how you feel. You don't even know who the hell you're supposed to be."
He shook his head violently, tried to shut it out, but as always it wouldn't leave him alone. All he wanted was to be alone, to hear nothing around him but empty silence.
"So who are you? The little victim? The murderer? The teenage delinquent? The hero cop's kid? Who do they want you to be Tommy? That's who you should be isn't it?"
"Hanson…." Judy began softly but was cut off as his head snapped up and she was met by eyes that were no longer distant but black with anger.
"What?" he snapped.
"What's 77988?" she asked bluntly hoping to provoke him into talking to her.
"What?" he said as his eyes blazed and his face went as white as a ghost. "Where did you hear that?"
"That doesn't matter. What does it mean?"
"It doesn't mean anything." He replied, his voice shaking and hoarse.
"What is it? Tell me."
"Don't do this to me Judy. Please." he said as those much too wide eyes stared back at her. Ignoring the overwhelming desire not to cause anymore hurt, telling herself he needed to let out whatever it was that was hurting him she continued pushing.
"What does it mean Hanson?" she asked softly and calmly.
"It's me ok."
"I don't understand."
"Good. I don't want you to."
"Why?"
"Let it go. It doesn't matter"
"It obviously matters to you." She said as she pulled out the paper Harry had shown her and thrust it into his hands.
"What's this?" he asked shakily as he stared at the scrap of paper.
"Don't you know?" Judy replied, panic and worry reaching new levels inside her guts.
"This is my writing." he said confusion clouding his features.
"I know."
"I don't understand."
"You don't remember doing this?" Tom shook his head slowly before glaring accusingly at her.
"Have you been going through my things?" he asked, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.
"No."
"Where did you get this?"
"That's not important."
"What am I, some exhibition for you all to gawp at?"
"No, you're not."
"But you seem to think its ok for you to invade my privacy."
"It is when there's something obviously going on and you won't tell me."
"That's because it's none of your business."
"I care about you. That makes it my business." she replied, trying to remain calm. "Help me understand."
"You want to know?" he said coldly. "This" he continued as he held the paper before her face, "is all that's left after they've chewed you up and spat you out. This is what they reduce you to when they have no further use for you. They spend years trying to sell us lies, and like an idiot I bought them, time and time again. And you know what, after a while you start to believe them. That everything we do is for the best. You listen to their bullshit over and over again until one day you look in the mirror and you don't recognise the face looking back at you. Because everything you believed and everything you thought you were was a lie."
"You don't believe that."
"I don't know what I believe anymore. To tell you the truth I don't care."
"You used to."
"I know. Too much." he laughed sadly. "But what has that got me Judy? Only this." He continued waving the paper at her again. "When you're useful too them you're just about the best thing going. But when you have nothing more to give all you are is that, just another statistic and they leave you to rot. Even though everything you have ever done is because they asked it of you. We go out and do the dirty work, we're the ones who end up with blood on their hands and that is all the thanks you get."
"Hanson, please…."
"Do yourself a favour Judy, look after yourself. The rest don't matter as long as you don't give a shit."
"That's not you talking." Judy said softly.
"I don't see anyone else here."
"If you really believed that you wouldn't be in this state. You hurt because you care."
"That's one more reason not to."
"What is it you believe isn't your fault Hanson?" she asked reaching out and gently taking the scrap of paper from him and showing him the scattered words he scrawled.
"None of it was ever down to me you know. I was only doing my job. You believe that don't you?"
"Of course I do" she said carefully, trying to find away to break through. "What do you think you did?"
"Don't push me Judy, please."
"Why?"
"Maybe its better you don't know." he said sadly. For that split second she saw it. That light that she had watched dancing in his eyes for years. It was only a brief flicker, but it was there nonetheless and it gave her a glimmer of hope.
"Why won't you let me in? What have I done to you that's so bad as to make you hate me?"
"Do you really think I hate you?" he said looking at her with a genuinely bemused expression on his face.
"It would explain a lot."
"I'm sorry if I made you feel that way" he said sadly as his face softened. "Nothing could be further from the truth."
"Then talk to me, please." The pleading in her voice brought his eyes round to look at her, peering through the heavy fringe as they always seemed to, just as they had that summer when she was so sure that all the games and false starts had come to an end.
"I can't" he said in barely a whisper. For some reason she couldn't explain a thought flashed across Judy's mind. "Listen closely and you can hear them scream" she thought. But what that meant she had no idea. So, like once again she knew him inside and out, she reached out and put her arms around him, surprised to find he offered no resistance.
"You can tell me anything, you know that don't you?" she said as she held him tighter. "You're one of the most important people in my life and there is nothing you could say that would change that."
"I wish you hadn't said that." Tom said, his voice sounding weak and tired.
"Why?"
"Because I meant every word I said to you, Judy." he said quietly as he pulled slowly away, his words making her heart skip.
"You did?" she asked not daring to hope. He simply nodded his head and glanced uncomfortably away as if distracted by something.
"You have no idea how long I have waited to hear you say that." she said shakily, and she cursed herself as tears began to cloud her vision.
"But it's not that simple."
"What's complicated about it?"
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You wouldn't do that."
"How do you know. I've already hurt so many others?"
"Hanson, stop this. Whatever you've done I'm sure you thought you were doing what was best."
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions" he said distantly.
"Hanson…."
"I can't do this anymore. It's too hard." he said suddenly burying his head in his hands.
"What are you talking about?" Judy pleaded, close to tears now.
"I can't be who you all want me to be."
"We don't want you to be anyone but yourself."
"What if all I am is twisted and poisonous?"
"You're not. I know you're not. You're a good person"
"I was once. I've tried to be. I've tried so hard."
"And you still are."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I think I'm falling in love with you Hanson" and god save her she was. "But, I'm scared I'm losing you."
"Judy" he said smiling softly and gently touching his hand to her face. "How could you lose me?" That soft smile remained fixed on his lips and he leaned in close to her. His face was inches away and she could feel his breath as his hand stroked her long curls. As he drew near enough so that their lips were mere millimetres apart that smile was replaced by a cruel sneer and that usually soft voice came out harsh and dripping with malice.
"You can't lose what you never had."
"How much can you take before your heart breaks Miss Hoffs?"
"Less then 48 hours ago you were telling me I was all that kept you going. You just told me you meant it. Is this part of some twisted little game you've got going?" she asked, her eyes boring into his. As she watched him it was as if suddenly something in him broke and it was as if all the anger and fight seemed to drain away.
"What do you want me to say?" he asked dully
"Tell me the truth."
"You people never want to hear the truth."
"Try me. What's going on in there?" she said reaching her hand out to touch him. He shied away as the anger and shame returned with a vengeance.
"You don't want to be touching me Judy, you don't know where I've been, Fulsom prison's little plaything, you could catch anything. Anyway psychosis may be contagious."
"I never said you were crazy."
"Didn't you?!"
"So? She's right."
"I'm not giving up on you."
"Why not? It was easy enough for you last time." he spat.
"I never gave up on you."
"You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better." He said as he held the door open for her.
"There are lots of people who care about you Hanson. Don't push them all away."
"I wouldn't have to if they walked away without being pushed." he said gesturing towards the empty hallway.
"Hanson, I don't understand why you're doing this"
"Neither do I." he said raking his hands through his hair nervously, his hands shaking. He really needed a drink. "You have to go now." he said, an edge of panic to his voice.
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why you're doing this?"
"It wasn't a request Judy." he snapped.
"Tell me why?" she said, her voice raised slightly in frustration.
"I don't know. Just get out will you, please." he said. He sounded drained but underneath she could sense something almost pleading in his voice.
"Fine." She said coolly. "But I meant it. I'm not giving up." she finished as she stepped out into the hallway. As she began to walk away she turned round, desperate to get through to him somehow, and was surprised to find he was stood behind her. She met his gaze and was relieved to actually see Hanson looking back at her.
She opened her mouth to say something to him but before the words were even formed on her lips they were stopped dead as he pulled her into his arms and closed his mouth over hers. At first she was too stunned to realise what was happening, but then the simple fact that this was all she had wanted for such a long time, his arms around her, feeling his warmth against her, that for that moment nothing else mattered.
When he pulled away he rested his head against hers holding both her hands in his looking at her dark skin against his own pale fingers.
"I'm so sorry." He said softly, "Please don't give up on me." he said before quickly turning and retreating back behind the door of his apartment leaving Judy stood alone stunned in the hallway.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tom stood alone, his back resting against the door and his eyes squeezed shut. Why was he doing this?"
"Because you're not well."
"Shut up!" he screamed, anger and frustration boiling over, as he began raging through his apartment, over turning chairs and tables, scattering the objects resting there across the floor, and throwing any object that came to hand.
Eventually, tired and out of breath he sunk to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest.
"You're torturing this poor girl. You know that don't you?"
"Yeah."
"Do you care?"
"What's the point? The more you care, the more you have to lose".
"They've really done a number on you haven't they pal?"
"It's not their fault. You said it yourself. I'm poison."
"So you know what to do, you've done it before."
"Cut it out."
"That's right, cut out all the bad stuff."
Suddenly it all made so much sense. It wasn't him that was the problem. It was the poison that had got inside him and was eating away at him. If he could get it all out everything would be ok. Just like it was before. Plus, he'd had a head start this time he thought as he examined the bandage that covered the half healed wound on his wrist. He pulled out the flick knife he'd had in his pocket since that morning and turned it over in his hand under the light remembering how easy it had been all those years ago.
He remembered it so well now. After pushing it away for so long it was suddenly as fresh in his mind as if it had been only yesterday.
It had been the day after his father's funeral. His mom had been sobbing her heart out upstairs again and he was desperate for her to stop. What gave her the right to claim all the hurt for herself? He had been his dad as well as her husband after all. This thought had made him angry enough to march straight upstairs and burst into her room where she lay crying, sprawled on what had been his dad's side of the bed.
"Stop it" he said causing her to jolt upright and glare at him. He seemed surprised by how calm he had sounded seeing as how angry he felt inside.
"I beg your pardon?" she said shakily.
"You heard what I said. Stop it." his voice still sounding calm and reasonable. "Have you heard yourself or seen the state of yourself recently?"
"Tommy…."
"NO! I don't want to hear it. You're pathetic do you know that?"
"How dare you talk to me to like that."
"Oh I dare."
"You should show your mother a little more respect" she said, her young son's words briefly snapping her out of her grief.
"Respect has to be earned. All I see is a selfish pathetic woman stewing in self pity." he said, sounding so much older than his 16 years which only served to make him angrier.
"I've just lost my husband."
"And I've just lost my dad. Doesn't that matter?"
"Honey, of course it does."
"Then don't you think that you should be looking out for me instead of me having to watch over you acting like a hysterical kid."
"You selfish ungrateful brat." she had yelled followed by a hard sharp slap across her son's face. His hand shot up to his burning cheek in shock as he looked back at his mother, who's eyes, so much like his own, burned with anger and pain. He couldn't even remember his mom raising her voice to him, yet here he was with her hand print forming bright red on his cheek.
"I have spent years of my life taking care of you, don't you think maybe it's time you paid some of that back while I grieve for my husband? You evil, poisonous……." she stopped dead as she saw the look on his face. "Oh Tommy, I'm so sorry."
"NO, it's ok. You're right." he said calmly, his anger and feeling of injustice wiped away by his guilt and shame. "I'm the man of the house now right? I should take care of you. I'm sorry." he finished as he left the room. He heard her calling after him but he didn't reply, just walked calmly down the stairs and into the kitchen. She was right, he was an evil selfish person. His mom was heartbroken and only wanted her son to take of her like she had him all these years. And what had he done, he had gone and hurt her some more. He couldn't even take care of his own mother properly. That was when it had all got too much and he couldn't cope with the pressure any longer, or all these awful, evil feelings that made him hurt his widowed mother.
That had been the first time he had taken his mom's kitchen knife from the draw and, standing over the sink so as not to stain the tiled floor, sliced open his arm from the elbow to just above his wrist. Very soon he felt light headed and all the pressure that had been sitting like a heavy weight suddenly lifted from his chest and he could breath again, as if the pressure was now flowing down his thin arm into the sink below him, and the poisonous feelings down the drain with it. He stood there watching it for the best part of 30 minutes before calmly walking over to the neighbours house, knocking on the door and quietly asking if they could drive him to the hospital because he'd had an accident and his mom was in no state to deal with it.
Over time he had come quite adept at hiding it and it took a long time before any one noticed that something wasn't right with little Tommy Hanson. Now nine years later the older version of Tom Hanson stood over the sink in his own kitchen reopening along that same scar with the knife he had threatened Chris Tyler with earlier that day. And just like that day 9 years ago, he felt huge relief as he watched the thin stream of red swirling down the drain. Reaching over for that bottle of good old Jack he had promised himself after Doug had left earlier that day, he stood watching all the sickness that had invaded him, caused him to hurt those he loved and made his fellow inmates look at him with that hunger in their eyes, disappear into blackness.
"Bad blood will out sport. Cut it all away."