Work Text:
Last to Know
by Robyn LaSalle aka TM Alexander
(c) 1991
Tom Hanson smiled politely at the pretty young nurse as they passed in the doorway of the quiet, dark hospital room. As soon as she was gone, however, his face returned to its stony mask. His gaze swiveled to rest upon the room's sole occupant and he felt his heart stagger to a halt.
He had been prepared for the worst. It still could not strengthen him enough for the actual sight of his partner, Doug Penhall, lying in a coma following a gunshot wound to his head. Steeling himself, Tom dredged up another well of courage and crossed to the bed. A chair stood beside it; hooking it with a toe, he drew it closer and sank down slowly.
He stared at Doug for a long time, unable to speak. The thick hair had been shaved back; a large white bandage encased the skull like an oversized yarmulke. That thought brought an unconscious chuckle from Tom, one that choked as it struggled past the ball of sorrow in his throat.
If it hadn't been for Penhall's little brother, he never would have known....or at least, not this soon. Working across town in a different precinct, Tom had been heavily involved in a case. He had come home late that evening, only to find a grave message on his answering machine. He could still hear its echo in his memory....
//"Tom, it's Joey. Look, man....Doug...Doug's been shot."//
Hanson had waited long enough to get the name of the hospital before dashing from the apartment. He ran a few streetlights on the way, but it was after midnight and the traffic was almost nonexistent. The thoughts that raced through his mind during the drive and up to this moment had been too frantic to sort out or put into any logical pattern. His emotions, drowned out by fear, suddenly surfaced. He gasped and felt heat blur his vision as tears welled on his lashes. A sob burst out and he dropped his chin against his chest, before slumping forward bodily.
After a moment, his trembling hand raked through his unruly hair before reaching out and finding Doug's lax fingers lying on the mattress. Tom wrapped himself around the large paw, pressing it firmly between his own palms, as though he could meld his flesh and bone to form one, solid mass. Raising his head, he blinked several times to clear his sight. "Oh, Doug," he croaked. "I'm sorry, buddy...I'm so sorry. I should've been there."
This was the salt rubbed into the wound he'd made when he left Jump Street. For several months, he had talked about quitting, but Penhall had been the one to convince him to stay. Penhall reminded him that he was meant to be a cop, just like his father. Finally, Tom couldn't take it anymore. He requested a transfer to another district, willing to take any assignment they could offer, as long as he wasn't dealing with high school kids. The strain of watching so many young lives destroyed - despite his vain attempts at rescue - had taken its toll. If he was going to be a cop, then he would have to be a *real* one...not a "kiddie" cop. Nothing special. Just...a cop.
The arguments he and Doug got into after that decision remained fresh in Tom's mind for months. Penhall didn't want to leave the chapel - never mind that he now looked older than Hanson, and unable to pass for a kid any longer. That hadn't stopped him from trying very hard to make Tom feel guilty for leaving, saying anything to make him change his mind - until at last, he blurted out the words that now hammered at Hanson's brain.
//"If you leave, I'm not gonna have any backup. At least, no one I *trust*. What happens if I'm out there, in the middle of a shoot-out, and I get killed because my *partner* isn't around to back me?"//
It had been a cruel thing to say. Abruptly, Tommy had left the apartment, and had not spoken to Penhall for several months.
He was grateful for Joey's thoughtfulness in calling him. He had met the younger Penhall at police headquarters, recognizing him immediately as a Penhall and striking up a friendship on the spot. Joey had been looking for Doug, and Tom had told him where to find him. Even though he was not speaking to Doug at the time, Tom remembered the painful stories about a family destroyed by their mother's suicide and their father's alcoholism, and decided to help in any way possible to reunite the brothers. He'd found it hard not to ask about his old partner, once Joey had started working at Jump Street. Hanson would sit and listen as the bright-eyed blond talked about mending the rift with Doug, about the time they spent together like a real family, and about Clavo. While he was happy for Joey, Tom found it more and more difficult to lie to himself, that he missed Doug fiercely and wished he'd never left.
Then, just last week, Tom had run into Doug at a local Rocket Dog - a mutual favorite eatery - and they had started talking to each other. Before they knew it, they'd lost track of the time and their food had grown cold, but they didn't care. It had felt so natural, like regaining a limb that had been amputated.
Reluctantly, they had ended the conversation, each realizing he had other priorities; Doug had to pick up Clavo from the sitter's, and Tom had to finish some reports at the office. They'd parted with promises for another meeting, Penhall challenging Hanson to a bowling match - winner buys the beers - before going their respective ways. Tom could still recall the odd tingle in his stomach and the singing in his heart, and the grin of delight that made his cheeks ache as he drove away. Perhaps everything would be normal again, he'd thought.
Then...this.
Now, just as they were beginning to reopen the lines of communication, tragedy tried to shut them down - permanently. Tom stared at Doug's relaxed face; he studied the tubes that pumped life back into his beloved friend. He could not help feeling it had been his fault. If he had stayed as Penhall's partner, he would have seen the bullet coming. He would have been able to push Doug aside or even prevent the shooting altogether. It reminded him of another time, when someone else he had cared for - Amy - had been murdered before his very eyes, and how he nearly went insane thinking he could have done something to change it.
Doug had been there for him then, to tell him he was foolish to drive himself crazy over something he could never have stopped. What had happened, happened - and regardless if Tom had been there or not, it still would've happened. He was just a man - not a super hero - and in the blink of an eye or the pull of a trigger, there was no one who could have changed the course of that fate.
He caressed Penhall's knuckles with his thumbs, rubbing them gently and squeezing occasionally to reaffirm his presence. "I'm sorry I let you down, Doug," he whispered, and swallowed hard. "But if you die, you're gonna let *me* down." He bolstered the words with a bit of anger. "*And* Clavo - don't forget about *him*!"
The eyes beneath their lowered lids twitched; whether in response to Hanson or to dream images, Tom didn't know. He continued, regardless, in a passionate murmur. "Listen up, partner. You tried to make me feel guilty for making the decision to leave Jump Street, and I'll admit - you succeeded. But not for long. If I'd been there, maybe you wouldn't have been shot - and maybe you would've. Only the Guy Upstairs knows for sure."
He gulped again, softening his tone. "When I left, I was leaving the *program* - not *you*. I always wished you could understand that. Yeah, the kids are important to me - but Penhall -" He sighed heavily. "*Doug*. Remember that night, when we were undercover in the juvie lock-up? You were restless because you didn't like being shut up in that small cell. I stayed up with you and talked to you because I knew it was what you needed. It was the only thing to keep you from going crazy. You said you wondered what good we were doing these kids, when we busted them in the schools only to have them wind up in places like that, for punishment. They were just getting worse, you said. And up till that moment, that very moment, I'd never really thought about it. By the time the case was over, I came to realize how right you were...and *that* was when I started questioning."
He exhaled slowly and shook his head. "After I went to jail, I really started thinking about getting out of the cops 'n robbers business. The only reason I stayed as long as I did was because of you." He paused, looking down at the floor. "Being a cop was no longer important to me. Living* was. Being *sane* was. How could I save some kid's life if I couldn't even save *myself*?" He laughed slightly, a weak and grief-stricken noise. His red-rimmed gaze returned to Penhall's profile, and he faltered. "I was locked in a little cell, too, Doug....and I wanted to be free. I wish you could've understood that. I also wish...we could've broken free, together.
"What I'm about to say isn't easy. I've been thinking about it for a long time, trying to find a way to tell you. All those months we weren't speaking to each other gave me plenty of time to mull it over. For a while, I thought I'd never get a chance, but after we got to talking the other day...and now..." He shrugged one shoulder. "I guess there's no time like the present, huh?
"Doug...I never told you...how much you mean to me. That's why I stayed at Jump Street as long as I did. For you. That's also why I followed you to El Salvador, to find Marta. You're gonna think I'm a rotten person, but I was glad when we found out she was dead. Not because she was *dead* but because I didn't really want her to come back with us. I...I didn't want her to have you, Doug. Because *I* wanted you." Tom passed his thumb over the back of Doug's fingers again, feeling the gentle pulse beneath the skin. "I love you, Doug. I think you love me, too. I want you to come back to me, and let me know for sure." He looked up at Penhall's closed eyes, wishing they would open right now, and that he would see his feelings mirrored there, and know that everything would be all right with the world again. It was always right, with Doug...
The opening of the door made him jump in surprise. A matronly nurse stood there, tapping her foot. "Visiting hours are long past, young man," she announced sternly. "You can come back later this morning, at the appropriate time."
Hanson nodded numbly, glancing at his bedridden friend. "I gotta go, now," he told Doug grimly. For the first time since they joined, he retracted his fingers from Penhall's, tenderly replacing the big hand on the blanket and stroking it for a moment. "It's not too late, you know." He smiled, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to Doug's brow, just below the bandage line. "See ya soon...partner. I'll be waiting."
Forcing himself to leave Doug's side, Tom shuffled past the reprimanding woman and burst out into the white corridor.
The nurse followed him. "There's also a restriction as to who can go into that room and who can't. Police orders."
Hanson stopped abruptly and turned, badge in hand. "Take a good look at it," he rasped, smiling thinly. "It's not going to apply, much longer."
"What?"
"I'm breaking out," the lean-built cop announced simply. "But I'll be back." He stabbed a finger in the direction of Doug's room. "And I'll be taking *him* with me. *Count* on it."
The old nurse scowled. "What in heaven's name are you talking about?" she demanded. "What is all this nonsense?"
"It's called 'retirement,'" Tommy replied. He grinned and shook his head. Removing the shield from his wallet, he placed it on the counter at the nurse's station. "And to celebrate...I think I'm gonna open a bowling alley." With that, he turned and headed for the nearby elevator. As he got on board, he realized he had never made a more satisfying decision in his whole life...and he believed, deep in his heart, that when Doug woke up, this would be one time when he would agree with him.
THE END