fic: H is for Hancock
Title: H is for Hancock
Author: clwilson2006
Character: Colby Granger
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Numb3rs is not mine.
Spoilers: Set Post season 4
Summary: Colby muses about his best friend.
A/N: This is unlike anything I have written before, it's a little weird. Hancock's existence is hinted at in my other stories A Little Comfort and A Little More Comfort. Written for the summer 2008 alphabet challenge at numbers.org under the name Blodwyn. Yes I know. Two user names is going to cause confusion. I assure you I'm the same person.
When I first met Hancock I was too young to even remember it. My first Christmas on this earth, at just a few months old, Grandma Granger bought him to me. He's been everywhere with me. Afghanistan, Quantico, in fact the only place he's not been is those five weeks in jail last year. And yes I noticed his absence, almost as much as I noticed the absence of my team, my friends. It was bad enough in jail on my own but I think Hancock would have caused far more trouble.
Actually come to think of it there was a time at the end of high school he didn't feature quite so prominently, my dad was trying to get me to be a man, and Hancock certainly wasn't in his plans. Hancock moved to the floor of the closet for a while, but I knew where he was. He moved out of the closet and into the drawer on my bedside cabinet after senior prom. Louisa had broken my heart so completely I took comfort the same way I had when I was a child. The only person I told was Hancock. If he ever learns to speak - I'll have to shoot him. He knows everything there is to know about me. He collected my tears when I was six and learning to ride a bike, I knew then that big boys didn't cry in front of their fathers so I'd cried with Hancock later, after my mother had cleaned up my scraped knees and elbows, and stuck a band-aid on my forehead.
He helped me with my homework through elementary school, although he was as bad at math as I was. Ha, I was so awful at math, still am, but now I seem to have a much higher target to compare myself to. Hancock would like Charlie Eppes, they're similar personalties, maybe I should introduce them. However that would mean I have to share Hancock with someone.
You know I don't know how he got his name, I'm assuming he's named for John Hancock, my father had a poster of the declaration of independence on the wall in his office, I remember John Hancock's signature being so large and flamboyant, it was the first name I learned to read from the declaration. The others soon followed, not that I liked history enough to remember them all. I dated a British soldier briefly in Afghanistan, I wanted to take her to the fourth of July celebrations at our base but she wouldn't go. All she'd say was “Think about what you're celebrating Independence from, then think about where I'm from.” then something about acts of treason starting wars. I didn't see much of her after that, I can't even remember her name. I expect Hancock would know if I asked him, if he could tell me. Still I know all about an act of treason for the greater good. So I guess Hancock is a good name.
He spent my college years hidden in a cupboard, my room mate found him once but was so stoned at the time I'm not sure he recognized Hancock for what he was. And taking him to Afghanistan was the riskiest thing I'd done with him, there was not a lot of room for personal items, most soldiers take photographs, they're flat and easy to carry in a pocket. But when I got there two others also had their own versions of Hancock, so I didn't feel so alone then.
He remained hidden in the cupboard through Quantico as well. My fellow male agents-to-be would roar with laughter upon his discovery, then he would be tossed around for a while. I would pretend not to care so much, and when they were bored I would fish him from whichever rubbish bin he had been thrown into an put him back into the cupboard.
Women fall into two categories when it comes to Hancock, they either abhor him and ridicule both him and me and he ends up abandoned somewhere. Or they love him and think it's so cute I still have him after all this time. Why can I only find the first sort?
Now I am at peace with my life, my undercover assignment has finished, though it has left it's mark.
I'm happy, I work with a great team, have wonderful friends. A best friend I trust with my life. Hancock isn't in any cupboard at home, he sits on my bedside cabinet, next to the digital alarm clock and table lamp. His one remaining eye looks out for me, and guards against unwanted dreams and memories.
And now there's change again. Megan has left. Broken the team up, but I can't blame her for it, I knew she wasn't happy anymore, I can understand the need to move on, or to stay. She's made her choice, and I wish her all the best.
It's Charlie that caused me the most surprise, that he had it in to him something so blatant. Still, like Megan, he's made his choice.
So now we have a broken team, our heart has gone and our head is lost without his younger brother. David and I cling to the hope that we can survive this, we have weathered so much in the last few years.
I get home form work to find Hancock has moved further into my life. His small, brown, once furry, one-eyed body is sitting on my bed, leaning oh so casually on the pillow.
I sit on the edge of the bed and pick up my teddy bear. Thirty four years of love in one small package. I hug him to my chest.
“Hello Hancock.” I whisper.