Hey all! Sorry for not posting yesterday, I was sick and spent all day in bed. Even missed work. Not fun. -.-
Anyway! Next chapter. Warning: suicide mention at the end of the chapter. If you want to skip the more detailed description of it, stop reading at the double asterisks (**), and start reading at the single asterisk (*). It's a short paragraph, at the end of the chapter.
Apologies for making Hank cry again! I promise he doesn't cry all that much more in this story.
Enjoy!
Hank couldn't help the giant grin that formed on his face as the giant Saint Bernard entered the room, letting out a loud bark when he saw his owner, tail wagging a mile a minute. Hank laughed heartily when Sumo rushed him, almost making him fall over with the impact. Hank couldn't stop grinning as he fell to his knees to hug his dog, sinking his hands into the coarse fur, his face getting attacked by a furious, pink tongue. God, he loves Sundays, the one day a week Ben came and brought Sumo along for a visit. While he enjoyed seeing his old friend, nothing beat reuniting with his dog.
He remembered being told that the lady who had heard the gunshot that night had also mentioned the loud whining and crying coming from a dog, and that had broken Hank's heart. He had locked Sumo in his room before making the attempt, but he guessed the dog had known what he had attempted to do, on some level. That alone made him regret the act. He adored Sumo, more so now that he was all Hank had left, and never wanted to hurt the dog.
Seeing him now was a balm to his aching heart. He'd been so conflicted the past few days about his roommate, so seeing his dog, getting a reprieve from his mind, was an added blessing. He briefly looked up at Ben, who was grinning down at the two, and returned the grin.
"Hey, Ben. What's happening with the force?"
"Oh, same old, same old. Gavin was a dick to a victim and got another disciplinary warning. With you gone, he's quickly catching up to your record. Hope he doesn't give you too much trouble while doing his assigned volunteer work here, after he almost got that suspect killed." Ben shook his head at that, his dislike for the younger detective evident. "Anyway, Chris's wife brought Damian in to visit us all, which was adorable, like usual. And Fowler has actually been in a decent mood this week. I think his wife surprised him with tickets to that new show he wanted to see. How about you, anything new in here?"
Ben always asked that question out of politeness, and while Hank usually scoffed and said impassively that nothing ever happened here, this week he actually had news. Maybe talking about Connor with his friend would help. Who knew. Couldn't hurt, eh?
"Yeah, actually," he started slowly, turning from Sumo to face Ben, though he kept his arms around the dog, "there is something new. I, uh, got a new roommate."
Ben's eyes widened at that, before filling with sympathy. "Ah, I'm sorry, Hank. I know how much you like your space. Is it the guy that Chris brought over, the 30-something attempted murderer?"
Hank winced at being reminded of Connor's crime, but nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's the one. Connor. He's, uh…" shit, how could he describe Connor? "He's a weird one, that's for sure. It's like he doesn't understand human emotion. His face is always blank, or else showing very little about what's going on in that head of his. Just when I think I understand the kid, he throws a fucking curveball that leaves me scrambling. I have no idea what to think about him."
Hank scoffed at the end, turning back to Sumo, who resumed his tail wagging. Before Ben could reply, probably another apology at how much it sucked to get a new roommate (Hank honestly wasn't sure if he agreed, actually. While Connor confused the shit out of him, there was something about the kid that intrigued him), Hank stood up and grinned at Ben, deciding he didn't want to talk about Connor. Why ruin the visit with his confused fucking feelings?
"Hey, let's go take Sumo for a walk. I bet the big lug would love to wander the garden a bit. Maybe fertilize the trees, ya know what I mean?" Hank grinned, patting the dog on his head as he barked happily, having heard the word 'walk.' Hank usually walked Sumo when Ben visited, while Ben hung out by the entrance of the garden, watching the two. Since it was so fucking cold, the man would likely hang out inside, but Hank didn't mind. He liked to spend time alone with Sumo when he could, pretend it was any other day at home, that he didn't have a scar permanently on his skull, or a dog that would always linger just a bit too close to his owner. It was nice.
Ben nodded quickly, a soft smile on his rounded face, dropping the previous conversation like the saint he was.
"Of course, Hank. You don't mind if I stay here, do ya? It's too cold to be hanging around outside."
Hank waved the concern off, telling the man it was fine and that he'd see him later. Part of him felt bad for abandoning the man so soon, but he knew Ben didn't mind. Both of them knew that the only reason Ben visited so often was to let Hank see Sumo, anyway. Otherwise he'd likely visit as infrequently as Chris or the other guys from work. Or maybe even Fowler, who came maybe once every other month. The last time he'd seem the old captain, Hank and the man had gotten into a screaming match, right after Hank had tried to kill himself the last time, so he wasn't too sure if Fowler would bother visiting for a while or not. He tried not to let the thought get him down. He and Jeffery hadn't been friends in years. It was sad, but it was the reality he lived in.
Pushing the thoughts aside, Hank waved at the rotund man, taking Sumo's leash and walking briskly outside. A lot of the patients stopped the two, asking if they could pet Sumo. Most everyone knew Sumo around here, and the dog absolutely loved the attention. Hank accepted it, loving to see his dog so happy, and eventually made their way outside.
He shivered as soon as the door opened, pulling his old, brown jacket further across his chest, hesitating at the door. Most days he didn't bother to dress up, mostly wearing the t-shirts and jeans he wore when he'd had days off, but he liked to dress professionally whenever he had visitors. It made him feel normal again. Today he was dressed in what he affectionately called his hippy outfit, which he liked despite its tackiness. His jacket was thick, but it didn't protect all that much against the frigid air. Sumo, his thick coat protecting him from the cold, had no such reservations about the cold and bounded out the door, almost taking Hank's arm out of his socket.
"Hey, Hey, calm down! Jesus, you're gonna dislocate my fucking arm. Damn dog," Hank grumbled, though he couldn't hide the grin. God, he missed Sumo. That was the worst part of being in here, by far.
Sumo slowed down, allowing Hank to walk him at his own pace. Sumo explored the dying garden, sniffing anything that seemed interesting, barking at the few squirrels he saw. Hank followed the dog around, his breath white in the air, face turning pink with the chill. As they walked about, Hank let his mind wander, and it inevitably fell on the person he least wanted to think about.
Connor. Fucking Connor. The kid would be the death of him, he knew it. His too wide eyes, his too innocent expression. It was like he was trying to make Hank feel like shit for his behavior toward him. If the kid looked like he understood human emotion at all, Hank would have been sure Connor was manipulating him. But he seemed too clueless to do something as insidious as that. It was possible he was just a good actor, but Hank had a feeling that wasn't it. He'd seen enough liars in his life to know when someone was lying or not. And Connor, for all his faults, rarely seemed to lie.
Hank really didn't know what to think of the kid. Part of him liked the kid (and he really needed to stop calling him 'kid,' since Connor had to be in his early thirties, at oldest), while the rest of him hated the kid. It was such a weird juxtaposition. Connor somehow managed to hit all his buttons, his emotionless face instantly setting Hank on edge (absolutely NOT because it reminded him of his father, the piece of shit). But, after he'd show his annoyance or even anger, the kid would look so lost. Like he didn't understand what he had done wrong. Hank clenched his hand as he remembered the terrified, almost tearful look on Connor's face the other day, how upset he had been at angering Hank. Or maybe he had been afraid.
Hank then remembered the kid was supposedly an abuse case, and cursed under his breath, causing Sumo to look up. Shit. No wonder the kid looked so terrified. He'd probably been reminded of whoever had abused him, maybe the 'Amanda' he'd mentioned. Hank resolved to not lose his temper anymore. Ever since Cole- ever since that night, Hank's temper had been quick to rise, causing a shit ton of disciplinary warnings to crop up on his previously flawless record. But he wasn't an abuser. He'd promised after turning 17, after having to bury his mother, that he'd never become a piece of shit abuser like his piece of shit father. He'd managed to go 44 years without having a kid, too afraid of becoming everything he hated, before Cole was born. The minute he held Cole in his arms, though, he knew he had nothing to worry about. He'd rather shoot himself in the head before harming a single hair on that precious boy's head.
Hank abruptly stopped those thoughts, not wanting to cry yet again. Point was, he wasn't interested in terrifying the poor kid. He'd just… God, he didn't even know why he'd been so angry yesterday. For the cleaning of the room thing, at least; he could kind of understand getting pissed about the personal questions. While Connor might not have meant to offend, those questions were pretty fucking offensive. Who the hell asked why someone attempted suicide? The fuck?
But the tidying of the room, that wasn't that bad an offense. Hank had just felt… he didn't even know, concern? Fear? At seeing his room changed. His posters and pictures off the wall. Upon waking, it had just… it had made him anxious, he supposed. Like something was off in the world. And, like he always did those days, he took it out on the nearest body. Connor hadn't even looked outwardly terrified, but Hank was starting to have the sneaking suspicious that when the kid closed off, his expression slamming shut, that he was trying to not show his fear. Something about that depressed Hank, remembering a young boy who had done the exact same thing when his drunk-off-his-ass father took off his belt and threatened to beat him bloody if he so much as made a fucking sound. Hank grit his teeth at that, watching Sumo sniff around one of the trees.
So, he resolved that he'd change his actions toward Connor. The kid didn't deserve his anger. Even though he had attempted to kill Markus, Hank was realizing that it may run a lot deeper than he had previously thought. Maybe Markus had been right. Maybe the kid really did need help, rather than jail.
Hank continued walking Sumo around, letting his mind wander, half the time thinking on random things, but the rest thinking on Connor and his innocent fucking face. Hank was pulled from his thoughts after about 45 minutes of wandering, when he heard an increasingly familiar voice ring out from the silence, almost like he had been conjured from Hank's thoughts. He tried not to groan as he turned to see the pink face of the object of his thoughts, surprised to see a grin on the usually blank face.
"Hey, kid. What the fuck are you doing out here? It's fucking freezing!" Hank exclaimed after noticing that Connor wore nothing more than a simple button dress shirt, which did nothing against the bitter cold. Connor just shrugged, eyes on Sumo.
"I don't mind the cold. It doesn't affect me. I didn't know you had a dog," Connor said, almost accusatory. Like Hank had done him a huge disservice by not mentioning the fact.
"Uh, I hadn't realized it fucking mattered? What are you doing out here, anyway?"
"I saw you two from the window," Connor gestured absently to the second-floor window that he knew to be their room, "and I wanted to say hello. May I pet him?"
Connor turned his wide eyes onto Hank, looking so much like the kid Hank called him that all Hank could do was nod dumbly, watching with bemused eyes as Connor knelt down and gently stroked Sumo. He almost laughed when he saw Sumo pretty much attack the kid, making Connor fall on his back as Sumo licked every part of his face he could find. Hank did let out a chuckle at the noise Connor made, halfway between a yelp and a laugh.
"Heel, Sumo, heel. Come on, you beast, let the kid breathe," Hank chuckled, pulling back on the leash. Sumo did as Hank said, though his tail was wagging a mile a minute at the prospect of making a new friend. While the dog was getting old, he loved meeting new people. Connor didn't seem to mind, face split into a grin as he looked up at Hank.
"His name is Sumo?" Connor confirmed, attention going back to the dog when Hank nodded in agreement. "Hi Sumo! I'm Connor, your owner's new roommate. It's good to meet you."
Hank couldn't help the grin at that, at how earnest the kid sounded. It was just like how Cole used to speak to Sumo, when they'd first gotten the dog for his fourth birthday. Hank pushed the thought aside when the stab of pain hit him, tempering his grin.
The two stayed on the ground for several minutes, Connor petting the dog while Sumo happily sniffed the new person. It wasn't until Hank noticed Connor shivering that he pulled Sumo back, chuckling.
"Alright, that's enough for now. Don't worry, Sumo will be back next week. You look like you're fucking frozen, kid. Here," he said, as he shrugged out of his jacket. He ignored the rush of cold, not willing to let the kid freeze out here. Like hell the cold didn't affect him. Connor looked disappointed but took the jacket with a thoughtful look on his face. For a second Hank thought that he'd reject it, but he watched, inside churning in an unknown (heh, yeah right) emotion as the kid put the jacket on, pulling it closed over his shoulders. And, wait, did he fucking sniff the thing? Yeah, this was officially getting weird. Clearing his throat, Hank gestured with his head to the door to the facility.
"Let's head on in, huh? It's too fucking cold to be out here."
Connor nodded his head absently, smiling slightly at Hank, eyes warm for once. Hank ignored the dryness of his throat and started moving towards the door, Connor following closely behind. Sumo whined as they stepped through the door, but followed all the same, tail dropping when he knew their time was almost over. This was the hardest part of the fucking day, Hank knew. Watching Sumo leave, the dog not understanding why Hank couldn't come with. The worst was when Sumo would whine or cry, not wanting to be parted from his owner. That killed Hank, hearing those pitiful whines. Hopefully today would be better.
Together, the trio entered the common room, where Ben was sitting, talking politely to one of the volunteers. Upon seeing them, Ben stood up, smiling pleasantly. He did give Connor a side look though, before looking at Hank with a raised eyebrow.
"Hey Hank, done with the walk?" Ben said, pointedly looking at Connor, asking without words for an introduction.
"Yeah, yeah," Hank grumbled, rolling his eyes, getting the hint. "This is Connor. My new roommate," Hank stressed, eyebrows raised in response to Ben's shocked expression. Connor, not realizing what was going on, held out a hand to the officer, smiling his artificial smile. It made Hank miss that genuine one that Connor had given when he had seen Sumo. Hank hastily pushed that thought aside, not wanting to open that can of worms.
"Hello. It is good to meet you. As Hank said, I am Connor, Hank's new roommate." Jesus. He looked so fucking earnest. It was official, Connor would be the death of him. He quickly wiped the fond look off his face when he noticed Ben giving him a weird look, scowling at the rotund man.
"Uh, yeah, I know. It's, uh, nice to meet you," Ben stammered, thrown off kilter. Probably not what he expected. Yeah, he understood the feeling. "Anyway, I should probably be headed out before the traffic picks up. See you same time next week, Hank?"
Hank nodded, stepping forward to clap the man on the back, reluctantly handing over Sumo's leash. The dog whined at that, but thankfully didn't make any other sounds. Hank knew Sumo liked Ben, but the dog adored Hank. Leaving was hard for them both.
"Yeah, see you next week. Thanks, you know. I really appreciate this," Hank mumbled, like he always did. He would never be able to repay the man for his kindness, but Ben didn't mind. He just shook his head, smile on his face.
"Don't mention it, Hank. You know I love Sumo, and he loves coming to visit. Plus, it's nice to see you." Hank snorted at that, knowing he wasn't the most pleasant person to be around, but appreciating the sentiment all the same. He leaned down and gave Sumo one more pat, scrubbing his ears like the dog loved. Sumo barked, before letting out a whine, licking Hank's face.
"Yeah, I know buddy. I know," Hank muttered to the dog, briefly burying his face in the coarse fur. He hated this. Hated watching Sumo leave. He wished he could go too, though he knew why he couldn't. Still. It hurt so bad.
After a minute Hank stood back, scrubbing his eyes clear of the few tears that had formed. Ben gave him a sad smile, about to turn to leave when Hank remembered what he had wanted to ask the man.
"Shit, wait, hold up a second Ben," Hank called, holding a hand out to stop the man. Ben turned, eyebrows raised, as Hank stepped closer, lowering his voice to that no one else could hear. He distantly noticed that Connor had also leaned in, but he didn't think the kid would tell on him, so he didn't mind too much.
"Next time you come, would you mind, you know… bringing something to drink with you?" Hank raised his eyebrows pointedly, so that Ben would get the meaning. He tried not to feel disappointment when Ben frowned, shaking his head as he looked around, making sure no one could hear. He briefly paused on Connor, before ignoring him like Hank had.
"Hank, you know you're not allowed to drink in here. You're a recovering alcoholic. I'm sorry, but I can't bring you anything."
Hank felt frustration rise at that, but pushed it down, trying to look pathetic. It might work. It had, once. But only once, and it had led Hank to try and kill himself a month previous, so he wasn't so sure he'd win this time.
"Please, Ben. I'm dying in here. Just a little something. Beer, wine. Hell, a fucking cooler. Anything. I promise I won't, you know," he trailed off, looking down, before looking back at Ben.
He saw that Ben was frowning, eyes sad as he looked back at his old friend. Hank knew the two had never been particularly close, but Hank had been a groomsman at the other's wedding, so he knew the man cared about him. Hearing he had tried to off himself again had probably struck a big blow to the genial man. He knew how upset Ben had been that first time, tearfully asking Hank why he'd done it, though obviously knowing the reason. He'd offered to take care of Sumo, though, which was more than Hank could ever have expected.
"I'm sorry Hank, but no. I can't. Not… not after last time. Ask Chris, he might bring you something next time he comes. But I, I can't. I'm sorry."
Ben turned away after that, trying not to let his upset expression show. He clicked his tongue at Sumo, who reluctantly followed, whining a little as he looked back at Hank every few steps, wondering why Hank couldn't come with. Hank felt his throat well up at the sight, and at that fact he had obviously hurt his friend. He continued staring long after the two had vanished from sight, startling only when he felt a hand on his shoulder, Connor's concerned face coming into view when he turned.
"Lieutenant, are you alright?" Connor asked hesitantly, eyes filled with concern. Hank swallowed his pain, and tried to smile, though he was sure it came out as more of a grimace.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm. I'm fine. I think I'm gonna head back to our room. I need to lie down."
Hank gave Connor a quick nod, gently moving his shoulder away so he could head to the stairs, wanting to go lie down and forget the moment had ever happened. Apparently asking Ben for some booze could hurt, after all. Go figure.
He distantly heard Connor say goodbye, but he hadn't paid him any attention. He went to the staircase and started to climb, longing for his bed. It was only 2:00 pm, but he couldn't imagine staying awake a single second longer.
As soon as he entered the room, he felt the tears he had tried to suppress fall, though he hastily scrubbed them away. Fucking idiot, crying over such a stupid thing. So what he had remembered what it had been like, Ben visiting him in the facility, eyes wet when he'd learned Hank had tried to slit his wrist with the glass remains of the bottle he'd given him, after he'd shattered it against the wall? So what he remembered Fowler's anger, masking the deep pain within his eyes? So what he had failed everyone, not getting better liked they had hoped, instead slowly rotting away, inside this fucking facility? So what? What did it matter that he'd fucking die here, alone and forgotten, all his friends having long abandoned him after realizing him for the piece of shit he truly was? What did any of it fucking matter?
Hank let the tears fall, grabbing his hair with his hands, palm pressed against his scar, pushing it viciously. He hated this. He hated this so fucking much.
God, he missed Cole. He'd do anything to just hold his little boy for a single second, to see that happy smile one last time. He'd become a fucking Buddhist monk just to know his boy was happy and sound. But he couldn't. He had no idea what he could do to make it better. And, because he had long since lost his faith in God and thus the afterlife, he wasn't even sure he'd ever see Cole again. He didn't even know that Cole was in a better place.
Hank let out a choked sob, stumbling towards the bed, falling into it and curling up into a ball. He missed alcohol. If he had whiskey he'd just drink until the pain left, but he had nothing. And Ben would never give him another drop, probably too afraid too. And none of the officers really cared enough to potentially run the risk of getting in trouble for bringing contraband into the facility, save maybe Chris, who might not want to bring any in for the same reason as Ben. Chris had taken a liking to Hank when he'd been new on the force, for reasons only God knew, and had taken the news of his second real attempted suicide hard.
**Yeah, Hank had made halfhearted attempts over the year, but nothing as bad as taking the broken glass and slashing both wrists, before feeling afraid and stumbling out the room, yelling for help. He could still feel the thin scars on his wrists, healing much better than the one on his skull, but also likely to never fade. Bitter reminders of the absolute piece of shit Hank truly was. He felt more tears fall, and just let them. No one could see. No one would care even if they did see. Not even Connor. After a few years, no one would give a shit about his worthless ass. They'd all move on, finally realizing how pathetic he was. They wouldn't care anymore.
*As Hank eventually fell asleep, tears still falling, he wondered if there'd ever come a time he didn't cry himself to sleep more than once a week.
He didn't think so.