SquidgeWorld Archive

Out of Touch
by IrenaAdler

As he pulled up to Don and Will's house, Coop was surprised to see Will's SUV in the driveway. It was the middle of the day and Coop had planned on raiding the fridge and crashing for a few hours in bed before seeing if Don and Will were going to be around for supper. Will being home probably meant that he was working a night undercover job and was sleeping during the day. While Coop would love to crawl into bed with Will, by his own rules he would need to sleep on the couch instead. Still, Don's old couch was more comfortable than a large percentage of the places where Coop usually slept.

Coop parked on the street, admiring again the neat, pleasant neighborhood Don lived in. It's the sort of neighborhood that Coop enjoyed visiting, but would go crazy living in. Coop grabbed his battered duffle bag and walked up the sidewalk. Quietly, Coop opened the front door and let himself in. He heard music and, setting down his bag, followed it out to the back patio. Will was sitting in a lounge chair, a book open on his lap, but his eyes were closed. The music came from an iPod attached to a set of portable speakers. Will jerked awake as the sliding patio door squeaked.

"Hey, Stevens," Coop said. "You taking a day off?"

Will blinked at him and stretched. "Hey!"

Coop noticed that Will had gotten his hair cut in a sort of punk hairdo, probably for an undercover case. He'd bet that Don hadn't been pleased. Coop didn't really like it either. Coop came the rest of the way out onto the patio and shut the door. Monster had been sleeping under the lounge chair and came running up to Coop.

Coop leaned down to pet Monster. "Sorry I woke you up," he said to Will. "Didn't expect anyone to be home."

Will blinked again at him. "Oh, you don't know."

"Don't know what?" Coop said, pulling over a chair for himself. "DEA finally get wise and kick you out?"

"I got shot," Will said simply. "In the head."

Coop froze, staring at him. "What?"

"Brain surgery, coma, everything."

Coop said down in the chair with a thump. "Shit! When?"

"About five weeks ago."

"Can't be," Coop said. "I've seen you guys since—Wait, Don okay?"

"Don's okay. And it's been about two months since the last time you stopped by."

Coop frowned, calculating the time and fugitives he'd chased down since he'd last been in LA. "Yeah, I guess it's been a while. But why didn't you let me know? Anyone planning on telling me if you got killed?"

"How would we let you know?" Will asked and put a bookmark in his book. "You're not exactly the easiest guy to get hold of."

"I know, but, dammit, you could have left a message for me somehow!"

"You're right," Will, setting his book aside and rubbing his cheek. He moved slowly, as if he was still recovering. "We should have called. There was just so much going on."

"So what happened? You hit on the wrong guy?"

Will's lips quirked. "Nope, it was in the line of duty. And it was dumb luck that it was me instead of Don."

Coop squinted at him. "Okay, now I'm lost. Don was with you?"

Will nodded. He leaned back in his chair and started explaining.

Will told him about the undercover case that had got Don and him to a couple's retreat. Coop wasn't even able to joke about that before Will described how he'd been shot. Coop felt a punch to his stomach as Will calmly switched to what Don told him hsf happened next, since Will himself had been in a coma for days. Emergency rooms, hospitals, family fights. Finally, Will home and recovering. He had another week left of enforced `vacation' before he would be allowed back to work – a desk job only, for now.

After Will was finished with the retelling, Coop looked down at his clenched hands for a moment. What would he have done if he'd known Will was in a coma? Would he have come rushing out here or would he have ignored it, shut it out, placed it in that category of `annoying daily life stuff' that he avoided dealing with at all costs? Coop couldn't see himself sitting vigil by Will's hospital bed. Maybe it was just as well that he hadn't known. This way, he didn't have to find out if he was a coward.

He certainly wouldn't have been able to resist hauling off and punching Will's mother, which wouldn't have helped anyone. Anyone with two eyes could see that Don and Will were good for each other, and to threaten to separate them when Will had needed Don the most … Coop growled under his breath.

Will's eyebrows rose, obviously misinterpreting Coop's growl. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you earlier."

"Naw," Coop said. "It's okay."

"Is it?" Will asked quietly.

Coop frowned at the ground and tried to figure out what he thought. Examining his emotions wasn't something he did often. After a moment, he looked up at Will and shrugged helplessly. "I think so."

Will gave him a gentle smile, as if he understood. And Coop had the funny feeling that he did.

"I think you're probably a little hurt," Will said. "That we didn't think of you."

"Well, yeah," Coop grumbled.

"Don talked about calling you. But he was worried that you would feel pressured to come running, and our friendship has never been about pressure."

"Just the occasional sex?" Coop said and was surprised at the bitterness in his voice.

"Isn't that what you want?" Will asked softly.

Coop stared at him. Of course that's what he wanted. But they were friends too, weren't they? Maybe Don and Will had enough friends that they could forget one here or there. Coop didn't have that many friends to lose.

Will nodded, although Coop hadn't said anything. "I would have called you if it had been Don. But he said you're be more comfortable knowing later, when there was nothing you would feel you needed to do."

"So you're saying I should be mad at Don," Coop said wryly. "For knowing me too well?"

"If you want to be mad at someone," Will responded, "Be mad at me for not knowing when to duck."

Coop snorted. Will's protectiveness of Don never ceased to amaze him. Especially since Coop had never met someone who was less in need of protecting than Don. Except maybe Will.

"So what's the damage now?" Coop asked, then waved at Will's head. "Other than a really ugly haircut?"

Will grimaced and ran his hand over his hair. "Yeah, but it looks a lot better than it did."

"I can imagine."

"Well, my short term memory still doesn't seem to be as good as it was, though Don tells me I'm being paranoid. As for my shoulder …" He raised his right arm slowly. "There was a lot of muscle damage and I'm still doing physical therapy for it. It's hard to write or use a computer, and I'm sure I've totally lost my shooting touch."

"So Don could finally beat you at the range?" Coop joked, covering over the horror he felt at brain damage. He knew enough about the brain to know that Will was very lucky to have not ended up a vegetable. But Coop believed in luck like a religion, and not questioning it was the first commandment.

"If my physical therapist – cruel, cruel woman – would just let me shoot."

"Pretty much confined to reading and napping?"

"She lets me go running, at least, and light Tai Chi, or else I'd be gnawing the woodwork."

"Speaking of gnawing woodwork," Coop said and nodded towards the iPod. "What are you listening to?"

Will chuckled. "Kate Bush. Don says she screeches."

"She does," Coop said, wrinkling his nose. "Give me some Creedence anytime."

"Like them, too," Will said and started to get up.

Coop jumped up as Will swayed then caught himself. Will glared at him. "I finally got Don to go back to work and stop mothering me. Don't need a replacement."

Coop smiled. "I sprained my ankle once, in the field. Don can be a real mother hen."

"Mommy Dearest," Will grumbled, but it was without rancor. "You want a beer?"

"Sure," Coop said and let Will go ahead of him into the house. Coop saw the white flash of a scar on Will's scalp and winced. "Mommy gonna be home soon?"

Will looked up at a clock. "Very soon."

Coop watched Will move around the kitchen, getting out two beers and some chips and salsa. Will was moving easier now that he'd gotten going, but he still looked a little stiff and low on energy. Coop knew better than to offer to help, but he was relieved when Will handed him an open beer and sat down.

"So, any good stories from the field?" Will asked.

Coop scooped up some salsa with a tortilla chip. "I chased down a sixteen-year-old bank robber."

"Oh, really?"

Coop nodded and told Will about his latest runner. He talked automatically as his brain still tried to process Will's news. He felt irrationally angry that Will had allowed himself to get hurt, endangering Coop's perfect little haven. It was a good thing that Don had killed the guy who'd shot Will, or else Coop would have needed to do it for him. Don sometimes didn't understand when the law needed to be taken into his own hands. It was one of the things they argued about most. But even Don had recognized that the bastard who'd shot Will point-blank in the side of the head deserved to die. Too bad that the bastard's death had been quick.

Finished with his story about the teenage bank robber, Coop tossed back a large swig of his beer. He was going to need more beer to deal with this.

The front door opened and Don called, "Hey, is that Coop's truck?"

"Yep, we're in here," Will called back.

Don came into the kitchen, a welcome smile on his face. He got one look at Coop's expression and his smile vanished. "I was gonna tell you," he said quickly.

"Yeah, right," Coop snapped, getting to his feet. "When?"

"… Soon."

"Planning on inviting me to the funeral?" Coop growled. "Or would it just be, `Oh hi, Coop. Will died. I was gonna tell you.'"

"I was busy!" Don snapped back. "Keeping Will alive and getting better."

"Too busy to make a quick phone call?"

"Somehow I can't see you sitting by Will's bed, waiting for him to come out of a coma."

Even though Coop had thought the same thing himself, hearing it come out of Don's mouth was like getting smacked across the face. Coop advanced on Don, his hands clenched into fists. "Oh, so you're the only one allowed to care about Will or worry about him. Don Eppes, goddamned bloody martyr."

"Okay." Will shouted in a voice that implied he'd tried the quiet approach first. "This is a stupid thing to argue about. Billy, please sit back down."

Coop lowered himself slowly back into a chair.

Will continued, "Don, do your getting-home stuff then we'll talk."

As in, `put away your gun if you're going to yell at someone,' Coop thought wryly.

Don clenched his jaw but left the kitchen. Coop tried to catch his breath. He was shocked to find that he was trembling with anger. Guess it's learning exactly where I am on their list of important people. Just because they mean a lot to me doesn't mean the reverse is true. He took another long drink of his beer.

Will rubbed his face and looked very tired. Coop instantly regretted fighting with Don in front of him. Maybe Coop should just take Don out to the backyard and continue this conversation with his fists. Somehow he doubted that Will would like that any more, though it might make Coop feel better.

Don silently returned to the kitchen and yanked open the fridge. He pulled out a beer and wrenched off the cap. He leaned against the counter, took a drink, and glared at Coop.

"Guys," Will said hoarsely. "I don't have the energy for this today."

Instantly, Don was at Will's side, concern radiating from him. "You pushed yourself too much today, I knew it."

Will shrugged. "We knew today would be a hard one with Elaine, but if you don't push in physical therapy, you don't improve."

"If you push too much, you get worse," Don retorted. "You shouldn't let her bully you."

"That's her job," Will said with a sideways smile.

"Still," Don said fiercely.

Will gave Coop a raised eyebrow. "See what I have to deal with?"

Don sighed and grumbled, "Damn stubborn idiot."

"Said the pot to the kettle," Will smiled. "I'll be okay. Just … can we please just talk?"

Don grimaced and nodded. He walked around the table and pulled out another chair. He took a drink of beer then turned to Coop. "I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier. Didn't really know what to say."

"How about, `Will got shot in the head but he's gonna be okay?'" Coop replied.

"Would you have taken my word for it? Or would you feel like you needed to drop everything and come see for yourself?"

Coop frowned. Don had a point. He would have just taken off, left his runner for the next guy to start the hunt all over again.

Will nodded. "And your teenage bank robber with a taste for assaulting young, vulnerable women would have gone free, to do another job or two before someone else could catch him."

"Hmm, nasty," Don said. "You got him?"

"Of course," Coop said with a small smirk.

"And I didn't feel like I could leave a message with the office for the next time you checked in," Don continued. "You know it would have gotten magnified into Will being a quadriplegic by the time you got the message."

"True," Coop admitted. More likely the message would have turned into `Will's dead and Don's on life-support.' Everyone in Fugitive Retrieval knew to take office messages with a huge dose of salt, but even so it would have been a nasty shock.

"We did think of you," Don said. "But you know how hard it is to get hold of someone in the field."

Coop nodded. He should be glad that he was on their Must Call list somewhere. "But if you'd needed me …"

"If we needed you, we would have gotten a hold of you somehow," Will said firmly.

"Yeah," Don said. "We would have sent up a flare." He gave Coop a wry smile. "As it was, Will's hospital room was pretty crowded already, with his family and mine there."

Coop returned his ironic smile. "Will told me how well that went."

Don shrugged. "Family, can't live with them …"

"… Can't shoot them and get away with it," Coop finished and chuckled.

Don smiled and his shoulders relaxed.

"You two gonna be okay now?" Will asked.

"Dunno," Coop grinned. "That depends on who's cooking supper."

Don and Will laughed and the tension in the room dissipated.

"Tonight, it's actually Mrs. Singh," Don said, getting up from the table.

"That a take-out place?" Coop asked.

"Nope, she's our neighbor – rather, she's Dad and Charlie's neighbor but she sent a casserole over with Dad yesterday. At least, I think it's a casserole …" Don rooted in the fridge, mumbling to himself.

Will reached across the table and put his hand on Coop's. "It's good to see you." He grinned. "Actually, it's good to be seeing anyone at all."

"I imagine," Coop said, putting his other hand over Will's. "I'm glad you didn't get yourself killed."

"That makes three of us," Will replied, squeezing Coop's hand.

"Smells like curry," Don said from the fridge where he was sniffing a small container. "It's just the sauce, so I'll need to make some rice."

"You can cook rice?" Coop asked, pulling his hands from Will's before Don could tease them about holding hands like girls.

"I can run the rice cooker," Don said and got out the appliance. "I've never got the hang of doing it otherwise, especially with that sticky Korean rice."

"Curry sounds good, though," Coop said, standing up. "How about we take our drinks out to the patio and you can tell me about all the cuddly-wuddly things you did at the couples retreat?"

"There was `cuddly' but no `wuddly,'" Will laughed.

"Oh, there was some `wuddly,'" Don said with a grin as he poured rice into a measuring cup. "And even some `woo.'"

"Woo?" Will asked.

"Yeah, cuddly-wuddly-woo."

Coop snorted. "Sounds like there's a story there."

"Perhaps," Will said, and he and Don exchanged smiles.

Coop picked up his beer. "I'll set up some chairs outside," he said and wandered out of the kitchen. He'd give Don and Will a few minutes together to get their stories straight or just say `hello' in private.

He set up another chair on the patio and settled into it. He took a sip of his beer and leaned back, soaking in the early evening air and the sense of peace that he always felt at this house. That peace was even more precious now that he knew how close he'd been to losing it.

Taking another sip, Coop contemplated what Don and Will had said about the difficulties of getting hold of him. Maybe it was time he got a voice-mail box that he could check on the road. Or maybe even an answering machine somewhere, somewhere more permanent than a hotel room. Coop's thoughts shied away from that prospect, but … If he were to have a real home somewhere, he could do worse than southern California. Not in this stifling suburbia, but somewhere quiet and private but not too terribly far away from here.

Coop leaned his head back against the chair, gazed into the evening sky, and wondered if dinner would give Will enough energy so they could all mess around later.

END