Frustrations

Series: Running
Author: Sammi M.U.
Email: sammi4@eathlink.net
Rating: PG-13 for language
Date completed: April 7, 2002
Summary: Sometimes, life is just frustrating

Archive: If you could link to the story at the Simon Shrine at http://majorcrimes.freeservers.com/onsitefic.htm

Feedback (kudos, comments, constructive criticism) is always welcome and private is preferred.

Disclaimers: Don't own them. Wish did. Enough said.

Notes: This is a continuation of "When Sorry Isn’t Enough". Simon's speaking.

Spoilers: Finkleman's Folly

Warning: "City of Angels" soundtrack time again. No death, dismemberment, or physical destruction. Can't say the same for emotional.

Running: Frustrations
By Sammi M.U.

As the sun shown into my room from the wrong direction, I startled awake and tried to get my bearings. It took me a while to shake off the disjointed feelings, but I soon recognised my surroundings and remembered the circumstances that led me here.

Quite simply, I was running - as fast and as far away as I could go. I really never thought of myself as the type, but I had to get away. It was all too much and for once in my life, I didn't feel like weathering it. I didn't want to be "the strong one," "the unflappable," "the wall". I couldn't be any of those things – not after what happened. Not after what was said.

The "Wall," after years of being battered on all sides, had finally cracked and crumbled. And all that was left of me – all of the minute pieces that I could gather – ran.

It was actually easier than I thought. One call to Joan, of all people, and she had me set up in hotels, rental cars and money from the west coast to the east. I couldn't believe it. She listed me as a consultant in her company and the doors opened. You would have thought with the animosity that's been between us, she wouldn't have lifted a finger. Instead, after doing all of this for me, she told me thank you. In my desperation to get away - to run - I'd done the one thing she'd wanted during our marriage – I'd needed her.

The one thing she needed most in our relationship and I couldn't give it to her because I had to be strong – to be the man. The one time I show her my need and pain, she gave me as much of the world as she could with open arms and no strings attached. It made me think.

If I ever did go back, things would be different. If, not when.

Ignoring the aches and pains leftover from a restless night, I sat on the edge of the bed and damned the sun for shining so brightly when everything else in my life felt like shit. The one bright spot in the last few days came from a woman I divorced. How fucked is that?

I though about going out and buying the largest bottle of "forgetting" I could find, but I didn't think they made a bottle big enough to erase all that I remembered. I probably couldn't handle that much anyway – I'm not normally a drown-your-sorrows kind of a guy. After about four beers, I'd go maudlin. At this moment and time, any more maudlin and I'd have to seriously rethink that promise I made not to eat my gun.

Shit. I just had to go there. Though I knew it wasn't possible, I wished I could go more than ten minutes without thinking about everything back in Cascade. With the way things were left, I'm sure no one was sparing ten minutes to think about me.

I smiled to myself. No one except maybe that pompous ass Bachman. Considering that little package I left for IA, I was sure my ex-boss wouldn't be forgetting my name any time soon. If he was lucky, he would leave in disgrace and would have to find a new profession. If I was lucky, they'd throw the book at him for what he did to Sandburg. Better yet, they'd toss him in a cell with the assholes that shot the kid. I know those guys wouldn't leave much of the commissioner and there would be a lot of people who would sleep better at night.

God help me. If I could sleep for more than a few hours, I know I would.

Aw hell. All of this thinking was making me sick. I'm not used to just sitting back and licking my wounds. I needed to get out of here – get out in the sunshine. I couldn't hope for healing and absolution from the sun, but at least I wouldn't be stuck in some room with only myself - especially when I don't really like me at the moment.

With the way I was feeling right then, I wasn't sure I'd ever like myself again.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Well, looked like I was batting a thousand. Not only had my damn language gone down the toilet, it would seem that my judgement had as well. What the hell was I thinking?! How did I end up as babysitter to some guy I didn't even know?

Guess the best way to figure out how I ended up in that situation was to start at the beginning.

I had no idea what prompted me to go into that bar. I wasn't really thinking about getting drunk. Unfortunately, I found myself walking by a park. Nothing earth-shattering in that until I noticed the volleyball game across the way and that one player who seemed to be all over the court. He reminded me a lot of Sandburg. Didn't look anything like him, but his joy in the game and being with his friends was easy to see even across the distance. I remembered how we were a few weeks ago.

The MC gang had taken on Homicide in the annual volleyball grudge-match. Blair was all over the place and I honestly believe we won not because of our skills, but because he kept us going and our spirits up. Made me wonder if he was getting that same unfailing support and that, in turn, made me remember my part in what he was going through.

"This is your fault, Simon. You, as his immediate supervisor, put him out there. So the blame rests on your shoulders and your shoulders alone."

I could hear Jim's words echoing on the wind and I couldn't deal with it – not when I was seeing first-hand what Blair might have lost. Trying to run away yet again, I turned down one street and then another and finally ended up in front of a scruffy-looking place called "The Hellhole". Taking it as kismet and then shaking my head when I realised that Sandburg's influence had me using that word, I walked in, stumbling a little because of the darkness.

As my eyes finally adjusted, I noticed that the name of the place didn't do it justice. "Lowest cesspool of Hell" probably would have been more appropriate. Everything was dingy and faded – right down to the bartender. It didn't look like sunlight had touched the place in years and the smell was beyond stale. Still, the assortment of spirits behind the bar and number of beers I could see on tap had me easing up to the bar.

"I've been keeping this place on the straight an' narrow, Officer. You won't find no trouble here," the bartender explained as he stood in front of me.

Shit. How the hell did he know?

"You got the look, you know, and the smell of one of the good ones. I can usually tell."

Colour me floored. This guy was good. Maybe he'd be interested in a job. Maybe he'd like mine. "How can you smell anything in here? My nose has permanently given up the ghost."

"Oh, you get used to it. Besides, the smell kind of covers up some of my customers cheap cologne. Nothing's worse than a bum coming off a three-day drunk and trying to cover it with $5 a gallon stink-water."

"Tell me about it. I think I busted a few of those in my day."

The bartender smiled at me and I suddenly felt like he'd declared me a friend. "And I bet you only did it so they could have someplace clean and dry to sleep off their binge." That startled me. My old partner had always called me "Soft Spot" because of my habit of doing just that. "Stop looking surprised. I told you I could tell you were one of the good ones. Don't take much to figure out the rest." He nodded toward the hard liquor behind him. "The stuff's cheap, but good. Won't fix what's hurting ya, but'll sure make the forgetting easier."

"And what makes you think I'm trying to forget something?"

"No other reason for you to end up here. I told ya I keep this place clean. I don't like how somebody looks; I show them to the door but fast. Just because my place is called "The Hellhole" doesn't mean it is."

I couldn't help it. I liked this guy. For the first time in a while, I felt a smile fight its way to the surface. "I believe you." I looked around again. "The place does kind of grow on you."

"Yeah, but, as tempting as it may be, you don't want to stay too long. A person can start fading – just like the walls – and he never gets away."

I figured I wouldn't be staying around here that long, but I appreciated his concern. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Checking out my various options and knowing my limitations, I ordered, "Beer on tap. Don't care what kind it is just as long as it's cold and there's plenty of it."

He nodded at me and in no time at all, I had an ice cold draft in front of me. Didn't take much longer after that for us to strike up an easy conversation that continued even when he was serving the few brave souls that wandered in.

Before I knew it, most of the day had passed. I could understand why Jerry, the bartender, had warned me. There was something about his place that helped you forget. Within those faded walls was a type of comfort that I hadn't asked for, but I so desperately needed. I could talk about everything or nothing and Jerry would just stand there and listen. During my quiet times, he would talk about how he ended up in "Hellhole Heaven" as he called it and it went a long way in soothing some of my daemons that he trusted me enough to share.

I know he was waiting to hear about the one daemon that had chased me into his establishment, but that was the one thing I couldn't talk about. It was too fresh. Too hurting. Too damning. I didn't want to see the contempt in Jerry's eyes that I saw in Jim's. I didn't want to lose another friend, even one so new and untried.

Again, Jerry seemed to understand and he didn't push to hear it. I think I was more grateful for that than the beer. Even though I had originally only ordered the one and made a token attempt at sipping it, Jerry managed to keep a cold one in front of me - just in case.

Day slid quickly into night and beyond and soon my new friend was ringing this rusted old ship's bell for last call. Strangely enough, I didn't care that I had spent the whole day in a dingy bar. All that mattered to me was that I had found someplace where I could be a nobody with no responsibilities and no regrets. I really didn't want to go back to my hotel room because I knew it would all be waiting, lurking in the dark.

Shaking myself from where my thoughts had taken me, I noticed that Jerry's attention was now on a huddled form at the end of the bar. It appeared to be more of a breathing pile of clothes than a person, but every few seconds a groan followed by a sob came from it.

"He looked so messed up when he first came in that I thought he'd be better off here than on the streets. It looked like he'd already had quite a few when he came in, so I gave him more water than booze."

I smiled at Jerry. "Not much money in that."

He smiled back. "Never really was in this to make money."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that much." I nodded down at the bundle. "So, what ya gonna do about him?"

"Normally, I'd stay with him in the back while he slept it off, but now that the grandkids are with us and Linnie had to go back to work, I can't. I can either cut him loose or call the cops and have them take him to the Tank."

I could tell neither of those choices appealed to him. It would probably tear Jerry apart having to toss the guy out, but he really didn't have any other options. Before I had time to think about it, I heard myself offering, "I can watch him, if you like. I don't have any place to be and no one's expecting me."

You would have thought I offered him a million dollars with how his face lit up. "I knew you were one of the good ones."

"Don't know about that, but I can't have you worrying yourself sick when I can help you out." And save myself from going back to my dark, lonely room. "He doesn't seem like he's going to be too much of a problem. He'll probably sleep the worst of it off and slink away in the morning all embarrassed and hung over."

"Yeah, but he'll have more of a chance of making it to morning with you watching out for him."

That made me stop in my tracks. I was used to such trust from my men, but I had worked hard to earn that. This was different. Jerry didn't know me from Adam and yet he was entrusting me with not only his livelihood, but also someone else's life. It was an amazing feeling and I realised how much I needed to have someone believe in me again. "Stop making me out to be some type of guardian angel. I'm not doing any more than anyone else would."

"As a cop, you should know better than that. Most people would care less what happened to him." Together, we moved the guy to the back room and placed him on the small bed where he released a final sob before turning to face the wall and falling asleep. "Most people would figure he'd be getting what he deserved if I turned him out. They'd figure he shouldn't have gotten so drunk."

I couldn't look at Jerry, so I stared down at the softly snoring man. "Sometimes, things make you feel so bad that getting drunk and letting fate mete out its justice is the only thing that can make you feel right again."

Wisely, Jerry didn't comment, but I could still sense his sympathetic gaze. "Here." He tossed me a set of keys. "I'll take care of the front before heading out. You got the run of the place as long as you clean up after yourself. There's lots of snack food in the kitchen and the private john is just beyond this room. I'll be back around nine. Hopefully our guest will be a bit more aware by then."

I figured a response wasn't really necessary, so I just nodded and sat down in the recliner in the corner. Jerry closed the door behind him and I could hear him puttering around out front for a while. Once things were silent out in the bar, I turned back to my charge. Briefly, I wondered who he was and what he did. He seemed to be well to do. He had designer clothes, shoes, belt, you name it. I laughed that someone so well off would find himself to be in such a pitiful state. Whatever his problem, I really didn't care. I had enough of my own.

Surprisingly, a sense of exhaustion began to sweep over me. I wasn't sure if it was the liquor or the past several weeks catching up with me. My eyes began to droop. Normally, I would have resisted the urge to surrender to sleep in such an unfamiliar surrounding, but I soon found myself drifting…

I woke to the sound of retching. I sat up immediately and literally tripped over my own two feet landing in the growing puddle of the poor fellow's sickness. "Damn!" I said loudly, grabbing the man and hauling his butt to the john. I pulled off my pants as quickly as possible, forgetting modesty in the face of my very expensive pants being ruined, and tossed them into the sink, desperately washing them. "Sorry, man," a weak voice echoed above the toilet.

A bedraggled face met my eyes. His eyes seemed strangely clear. My expression must have given me away. "No, I'm all but sober now. You'd think the stuff would work better. My system gets rid of it, and then I'm fine. It doesn't last nearly long enough."

"The alcohol?" I asked.

"No, the forgetting. Nothing really helps. I have tried everything. Even counselling. But a shrink can't shrink it. The pain just grows and grows until I try to drown it away." He started to stand, but stumbled against the wall. I grabbed him just before he lost his balance and he brought us both to the ground. This was not how this evening was supposed to go. I was not interested in hearing this rich guy whine about his poor, unfortunate life. His shoes cost more than some people's cars.

"Listen buddy. I can call you a cab. I don't care what you say about being sober; you are in no shape to drive."

He smiled. He stood up, then had an expression of sudden desperation and fell back over the toilet. Damn, we weren't going anywhere yet.

Even though he was in a rather humiliating position, it didn't seem to deter him from wanting to talk. "You know, at any other time, I could probably buy and sell you a couple of times over." Oh great. One of those kinds. I almost would have been disgusted if the guy hadn't been hugging a toilet. "But now a days, I consider it a good day if I can remember where I wake up."

"For most people, that's a sign that you need to ease up on the stuff. There aren't too many places like this that will let you sleep off a bender."

"What the hell do I care? If somebody ended up taking me out, they'd be doing the rest of the world a favour."

"Oh come on, man. Nothing's that bad."

"I killed a kid, *man*. Worse than that, I killed *my* kid. They don't make a hole deep enough for me."

Shit. I wasn't expecting that. I could understand why the booze had become his best friend. Before I could really think about it, I found myself asking, "What happened?"

"Working late, as usual, trying to complete a make-or-break deal. Hadn't seen my bed in a long time, so I decided to head home." He looked up at me again and his eyes were haunted. "I should have known I was too tired. I should have pulled over as soon as the sleep hit. I should have just called home and had my wife meet me. But, in everything else, I just had to push it. I had to seem like I was in control." His voice broke with his next words. "I didn't even see him until it was too late. I'll never forget the look on his face." He shook his head as he wiped his hand over his eyes. "I wish I could forget that look, but it's all I see now. The booze helps, but not for long. Nothing helps for long."

As a father, I could understand his pain. It would kill me if I had a hand in anything happening to Daryl. But, it was his next words that chilled me.

"How do you live with the knowledge that you destroyed someone who put his whole trust in you? How do you survive after you've killed someone you swore to protect?"

I knew it wasn't the same situation, but my mind flashed on Blair and what I'd sent him into. Though he wasn't my son, I still felt responsible for his well-being. He'd trusted me to watch out for him, for me not to send him into a no-win situation. I was lucky; Sandburg lived. But, what if?

"This is your fault, Simon. You, as his immediate supervisor, put him out there. So the blame rests on your shoulders and your shoulders alone."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Shortly after ten-thirty the next morning, I found myself back in my room. Jerry had made it in a little after nine and I had quickly passed over my ward. The bartender had seemed a little surprised at my not wanting to stay and chat, but I had to get out of there. Though the guy hadn't said much after his confession, his earlier words had weighed heavily on me.

So heavily that I couldn't sleep. I kept watch for what was left of the night and I welcomed the morning because it meant I could run. It took me a while to make it back to my hotel. I hadn't realised how far I'd actually gone the day before. It was almost a good thing that I had stayed at the bar, because I might not have found my way back in the dark. Almost a good thing.

With my thoughts again back in Cascade, I checked my watch. My source at the hospital would've had enough time to check up on Sandburg and see how he was doing. Even though I was running, I had to know the kid's status. Jim probably wouldn't have liked it if he'd known, but I didn't care. This was something I had to do for whatever little peace of mind it gave me.

I pulled out my cell phone, dialled the now familiar number and waited. A soft voice greeted me.

"Hey, Amy. It's Simon. How are you?"

"Simon! I'm glad you called."

"Why?" My heart felt like it skipped a beat. "Has Sandburg taken a turn for the worst?"

"Simon.

"I thought the doctors said he was going to be okay!"

"Simon!"

"I know he had a few unexpected setbacks, but you said he was bouncing back from those."

"SIMON!"

"What?"

"Blair's doing fine. I wasn't trying to scare you. I was just glad you called."

"Oh." I released the breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. For a moment, I kind of basked in the warmth of my friend finding joy in just talking to me. Then, the reality of why I was calling hit me. "So, he really is doing better?"

I could hear the smile in her voice as she answered, "Much better. His therapy is a little rocky, but he's tough. You should be really proud of him. His doctors are calling him a miracle."

"That's great, Amy. I'm glad for him. Could you…?"

"Hold on a second, Simon. I have to take care of something real quick."

I was kind of surprised she'd put me on hold since she knew I wasn't in Cascade, but I figured something pressing had come up.

That was until I heard another voice come on the line.

"Simon? It's Jim."

Dammit, no! Not now. I couldn't deal with him. What had Amy done?

"Simon, you know I can tell you're still there." I couldn't answer. "Come on home, Simon. Everybody's missing you. Blair really wan… no, needs to see you."

If last night hadn't happened, I probably would have listened. Unfortunately, it had.

All I could hear over and over again were Jim's last words to me.

You could have stopped this from happening! This is your fault, Simon. It will be on your head. Your fault. Your fault, Simon. Sometimes, sorry just isn't enough.

But, it was all I had.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I know it's not enough, but I am sorry. So sorry."

And with that, I pushed end on the phone and dropped it on the table. Before the phone stopped spinning, I was already running.

Finito