Chapter Text
Hank showed up early to John’s hospital room to give him a ride home. Waiting on the paperwork until they let you out was tedious, he knew, so he figured he could keep Johnny company for a bit, and spirit him away ahead of schedule just in case the way cleared.
He found John still sitting in bed, holding a glass with drooping yellow flowers in it. Dandelions. But he had the strangest expression on his face, far away, wistful.
It brought to Hank’s mind that he had something to attend to.
It was traditional not to bring up close calls. If someone died, all the ceremonies possible were put into play, and if they didn’t, everyone avoided talking about it, almost superstitiously, as though by avoiding it they could avert future tragedy.
Hank was done with that. He’d been so close to never seeing John alive again, and he wasn’t gonna brush that under the rug.
But he also didn’t want to be morbid about it.
“Cap! You’re my ride outta here?” John’s voice was still raspy as hell.
“Turns out your departure coincides exactly with the 1st grade play, and Jenny’s a—” he paused.
John spoke up, a kid’s excitement breaking through the hoarseness. “A spider. It’s about ecosystems.”
“Ah right, that was it.”
“Dang, I’d hoped to get out yesterday so I could go too.” Now, John looked slightly dejected, again like a kid who’d missed out on the outing he’d looked forward to.
“I’m sure she’ll be happy to recap her performance for you.”
John grinned. “Oh, I’m sure she will.”
“So, I offered to get you there. Besides, I wanted to talk with you.”
John was suddenly wary. “Did I—am I in trouble?”
Hank smiled and shook his head. “No, John, you most definitely are not in trouble.” He gentled his voice deliberately further. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Alright,” Johnny rasped out slowly, clearly puzzled.
“It’s just that—well, I wanted to acknowledge the elephant in the room.”
John looked instantly—not exactly uncomfortable; more like put upon, or perhaps shy. His brown eyes looked anywhere but at Hank. “Aw Cap. Not you too.”
“You mean, other people have—?”
“Mrs. Bentley. Gwen’s grandma? She came in here and had to tell me—well, it was embarrassing.” Hank was already well aware of that lady’s extremely strong personality and opinions, so he had a pretty good idea that her gratitude might have been a bit much to take. He did wish he’d been a fly on the wall for that, though.
“An’ Jo and Roy keep looking at me strangely, like I’m gonna—I don’t know, break, or disappear. I mean, all of you saved me and Gwen, and I’m recovering, they even let me talk now.”
“I know, but it was rough there for a while.” Hank understood quite well what Roy and Jo had gone through, since he’d been in that same emotional place too.
John took in a deep breath and let it out, and nodded, resigned. “It’s okay,” he said, giving permission for whatever Hank had in mind.
Hank took his own deep breath, deliberately setting aside his authority as Captain, but speaking from perhaps an even deeper certainty. “I wanted to say, first, I know you went through hell with this. If you ever want to talk about it, or there’s something I can do, I’m here, not just as your Captain.”
John’s eyes got that startled look he was prone to, and he only seemed able to manage a nod. Well, no doubt that he was paying complete attention, Hank thought.
Hank continued. “I also want to say—well, this isn’t the only time I’ve felt it, that time you got bad sick was the first—but this is sure a—shall we say, a forceful reminder—that I don’t need to be taking anybody for granted, especially you. I saw again for a moment what it would be like if you weren’t with us, and I didn’t like it at all.” Hank spoke strongly, but he could feel a tremor in his words anyway.
Meanwhile, as he regarded the man in front of him, the familiar deceptively thin frame that masked a wiry strength and an ingenious competence Hank was sure most people didn’t see at first, and thought of the compassion he’d seen so many times at scenes and heard in the man’s voice, and Hank remembered the silliness and life John brought to their shift at 51’s, and Hank knew his words wouldn’t even touch what the loss would have been if John hadn’t managed another of his phenomenal recoveries this time.
John was looking down and the embarrassment was probably getting bad for him. Hank didn’t have anything to say that was going to relieve that, he knew. “I should say things like this more often. I’m more than proud to know you.” Hank cleared his throat—maybe the obvious emotion got across what the inadequate words didn’t. “Doesn’t mean you—and every last person on our shift, for that matter—don’t drive me up the wall, too, but—I don’t want to have to manage without you.”
John turned his head to the side, still clearly feeling awkward at what Hank was trying to say, then he looked up, questioning—and Hank suspected, all too eager to change the subject. “Wait. All of us drive you up the wall? I mean, me and Chet, sure, and I guess Roy sometimes—”
Hank let Johnny turn the conversation this way. “You know best of all that when Roy is trouble, he’s really trouble.”
John shrugged. “Yeah, you’ve got me there. But—Marco?”
“He’s deceptively sedate, but that’s why I really have to worry about him sometimes.”
Johnny looked unconvinced. “Okay, but—seriously, Mike?”
Hank just shook his head. “There’s more there than most realize, and it’s the quiet—”
“—ones you have to watch out for,” he chimed in with the rest of Hank’s sentence with a wry smile. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Hank watched as John turned to gather the various items he’d collected while staying in the room, surreptitiously assessing.
It was the most crucial part of what he did—assess a situation and then make decisions.
It wasn’t just what he saw now, though, that brought Hank to his conclusion: it had been clear to him for a while that John Gage was someone who could use a hug,
John seemed to pick up on Hank’s scrutiny; he smiled reassuringly at him. “You don’t have to worry about me, Cap.”
“But I do worry, that comes with the territory.” Hank smiled. “I’m not going to forget again, what all this made me realize. And since we’re here, and not at work, and since I want you to know how much you’re valued—how much I would have missed you if we’d gotten there too late for you this time—I want to show you.”
John looked up, puzzled and faintly flustered by the heartfelt words—he must have thought he was free of that part of the conversation. “I want to give you a hug, John,” Hank clarified. Then he asked gently, “Is that okay with you?”
John still had that startled look, but then his features eased and Hank could almost detect a smile. “Yeah, it’s okay,” he rasped, and set down safely the last thing he’d been gathering, the jarful of dandelions.
Hank stepped forward and wrapped his arms around John, and instead of a typical, brief bear hug, Hank instead held John, putting into it all his heartfelt gratitude that John was here, and on his way to health, and safe.
John wrapped his own arms around Hank tightly, and Hank felt a tension and heard a hitched breath. But then, when he didn’t let go, he felt John relax, trusting. Good, Hank thought.
*
John couldn’t quite believe this was happening, but he wasn’t gonna not appreciate it. He knew he respected Cap more than any other person he’d ever worked for and reported to, not because Cap was perfect—he occasionally caught glimpses of the man’s inexplicable insecurities behind the serene and steady front—but because he knew he could trust him, and John wanted fiercely to do his best for the man, and—maybe this was an example of why, how he’d known how much Cap cared, and how deep that care went.
The hug was warm, and gentle, and felt good, and Cap seemed in no hurry to end it. John wasn’t very good at it, but he tried to untense his muscles and let himself feel this. It wasn’t easy: people might think he wouldn’t like being held, but it was more like something inside was afraid to accept it because it was going to be over far too soon. But Cap seemed satisfied to stay here, to say now without words what he’d said earlier, that he was there and wasn’t going anywhere. John took deliberate deep breaths and it loosened that place in his chest which had nothing to do with smoke and he closed his eyes tightly at the sensation. He let himself feel safe.
*
Hank would have stood here all day for John. His men didn’t know—he hoped they couldn’t see—that he was far more impatient than he ever let on to them, but this didn’t take any patience at all. He hoped it was doing John some good, that the slight shaking he felt coming from the man was a good thing. He knew, after that first night of worry that didn’t end quickly the way he felt it should have, that had just gone on and on, knew after seeing the exhausted pain in John’s face in the days after, that he himself needed this and that it was doing him a world of good to just have John here, safe.
When John eventually, slowly, stepped back, Hank could see by the melted tension in his gangly limbs and the grateful light in his eyes that he’d done what he wanted to do.
*
Ruth came by to give John final instructions and to schedule ongoing appointments, and after, she watched the taller of the two tall men listen with a pleased smile as John talked eagerly about how Chris had been reading about ways to preserve plants and he was going to talk with him about pressing flowers—ah, those dandelions John had so carefully kept the past few days by his bedside.
*
In the car ride to the DeSoto’s, John found himself thinking about what Cap had said, and about that hug. Cap drove, looking perfectly satisfied and pleased, and he didn’t seem to find the silence awkward at all. John felt that too -- felt a warmth and settledness he wasn't used to at all.
Nevertheless, John had the sense that something was left unsaid—or more, that he needed to say something. He didn’t know the words, though. He resolved, as Cap turned the corner into the familiar suburban neighborhood, to say it anyway, even if it came out incoherent or wasn’t good enough. Cap wouldn’t judge him, and would probably understand at least some of it.
Cap pulled to a stop and John spoke up hesitantly, voice rough from the injury he was healing from and maybe from what he was feeling too. “You know, Cap, what you were saying, uh, to me—it’s—I mean—you, all of you, are real important to me too.”
Cap turned off the car engine and looked at John, who fidgeted under that calm, kind gaze. Cap’s gentle smile eased any remaining worry about not saying the right thing, and his quiet, sure words told John he’d said exactly what he’d wanted to.
“I know, John. It couldn’t be more obvious.”