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Poor Tom	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1469 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
WARNING! The following chapter deals with a suicide attempt.
As the days passed, Booker began to feel more relaxed about Tom’s state of mind. Good news had come through from the hospital, Tom’s blood work and urine had come back clear of any STDs. The doctor advised Hanson to have a follow up test in a month and although there was a two-week wait on the HIV results, Dennis knew it had been a huge relief for Tom and a positive step forward in his recovery.   But even though Booker felt Tom was gradually improving, he had initially been wary about leaving his friend alone, so he had phoned in sick for a couple of days just so he could keep an eye on how Hanson was coping. Being with him for twenty-four hours a day meant Tom had no chance to cut himself, although he constantly scratched at the bandaging that Dennis insisted he wore to protect his arms. Nighttime was the most unnerving, with Tom’s night terrors reaching almost fever pitch as he thrashed around screaming in fear. The only way Booker could pull Hanson back to reality was to call his name, as he risked certain injury if he tried to subdue him physically. When Tom finally woke, his body would be drenched in sweat and he lay hyperventilating in terror until Booker pulled him into his arms and held him close.. It was during these episodes that Dennis felt the closest to Tom, as it was the only time Hanson sort any type of comfort. During waking hours, Tom was mostly monosyllabic with his responses, unwilling to engage in any conversation that might lead to discussions about getting professional help for his depression. Dennis did not push, as he feared if he did, that Hanson would leave the sanctuary of his apartment and he would find himself completely excluded from Hanson’s life.
Having taken two days off work, Booker knew he had run out of excuses. Although they had no current undercover assignments, Captain Fuller still expected his officers to report in daily. Hanson had another week's leave and Dennis had suggested that it would be in his best interest to ask for an extension. But Tom stubbornly refused to discuss the topic other than to hint that it made no difference as he would resign as soon as their month’s agreement was up.
Pulling on his boots, Booker looked down at Tom’s sleeping face. He finally looked at peace and Booker did not want to wake him just to tell him he was going to work. Pulling out a pen and paper from his bedside drawer, he quickly scribbled a note.
Gone to The Chapel. Call me if you need to. Booker
Feeling more than a little uneasy at leaving Tom alone, Dennis left the message on the bedside table before grabbing up his jacket and closing the bedroom door softly behind him.
**
Rather than have his officers sitting around idle, Fuller had organized for Booker, Penhall, Ioki and Hoffs to attend a training course in hostage negotiations. With his mind solely on Tom, Dennis found concentrating difficult and he continuously received the wrath of the instructor throughout the day. When he failed the practical test for the third time, Penhall gave him a stinging slap around the side of the head. “Damn it Booker, what the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped. “That’s the third time you’ve frozen up. At this rate we’re never gonna leave.”
“Sorry,” Dennis muttered, rubbing his face with his hands in an attempt to clear his mind.
Penhall narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been acting weird for days. Is there something going on we should know about?”
“It’s nothing,” Booker replied quickly. “Just family stuff.”
Doug studied Booker’s face closely. He had never heard Dennis talk about his family before and he found it odd that they were suddenly making such an impact on his life. Although he thought of Booker as arrogant and self-absorbed, he had always found him to be a good cop and he trusted him with his life. But his lack of focus during the course had Doug thinking that whatever was troubling him must be serious. He had never seen Booker so jumpy and inattentive. Reaching out, he laid a comforting hand on his partner’s arm. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”
Booker felt genuinely touched by Doug’s display of concern and he gave his colleague a reassuring smile. “You never know Penhall,” he replied. “I might just take you up on that.”
**
With Penhall’s help, Booker managed to scrape through a pass in the course. Throwing his bulletproof vest into the trunk of his car, he slammed down the lid. Looking at his watch, he groaned when he saw the time. He had been away from Hanson for over eight hours and he felt the urgent need to get home and check on his houseguest. Jumping into his car, he sped out of the academy and into peak hour traffic. Frustration made him jumpy and he slammed his hand repeatedly onto the horn, in the vague hope that it would help to get the traffic moving.   When he finally pulled into his parking space, his nerves were jangling. Not bothering to wait for the lift, he took the stairs two at a time up to the fourth floor. When he arrived outside his apartment door, he took a moment to calm himself, not wanting Tom to see how anxious he was feeling. Taking deep calming breaths, he put the key in the lock and opened the door.
When he saw that Tom was not in the living room, he did not immediately feel concerned. Tossing his keys into the bowl, he walked into the bedroom, expecting to see his friend napping on the bed. Coldness gripped his heart when he found that room also vacant. Turning, he sighed in relief when he noticed the bathroom door was closed. Flopping down onto the couch, he flicked on the television and started to watch the evening news. When several minutes passed and Tom did not emerge, he stood up and walked over to the bathroom door. “Are you all right in there Hanson?” he called out, keeping his voice calm. When he received no reply, he knocked on the door. “Tommy, are you in there?”
Seconds ticked by without an answer and Dennis began to feel worried. Rubbing his fingers nervously across his upper lip, he rapped his knuckles hard against the door. “I’m coming in Tommy,” he warned, his voice rising in fear. Turning the handle, Booker prayed that Tom had not locked the door and he sighed with relief when it opened a crack. As he pushed, he felt something heavy obstructing the way. “TOM!” he yelled, when he saw a bare leg lying on the floor. “Oh God!”
Shoving all his weight against the door, Booker managed to open it just enough so he could squeeze through the narrow entrance. Looking down, he choked back a cry as acid rose from his stomach and into his throat. “OH JESUS! OH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” he yelled, instantly dropping to his knees and pulling Tom into his arms.
Blood covered the black and white tiled floor. Tom lay unconscious on the floor, naked except for his boxers, which were stained red with his own blood. His forearms were sliced open from elbow to wrist and a bloody razor blade lay limply in his right hand. Adrenaline coursed through Booker’s body and he jumped to his feet, skidding and almost falling as his feet slipped through the dark amber liquid pooling around Tom’s body. Running into the living area, he picked up the phone and dialed 911. “Ambulance!” he yelled hysterically when the operator answered. “Oh God! He’s tried to kill himself!”
After giving his address, Booker slammed down the phone and quickly unlocked his door before running back into the bathroom. Grabbing a couple of towels from the cabinet, he wrapped them around Tom’s arms in an effort to stem the flow of blood. Sitting down on the floor, he cradled Hanson’s head in his lap, all the while talking to him in a loud voice. “Stay with me Hanson! Don’t you dare leave me, don’t you dare fucking leave me!”
The sound of sirens split through the still night air. “They’re almost here Tommy, just hang on, please just hang on!” Booker whimpered as he stroked Tom’s pale face. A loud voice announced the arrival of the paramedics. Dennis was quickly ushered out of the small bathroom as the medics assessed Tom’s injuries and he paced frantically back and forth outside the door, raking his fingers frantically through his unruly dark hair. After several minutes, the two paramedics lifted Tom out of the bathroom and onto a stretcher. “Are you coming with us?” the older of the two men asked Dennis.
Too shocked to speak, Booker just nodded. Following the men out the door, he did not even bother to lock up. They rode the lift down to the car park and Tom was loaded into the back of the waiting ambulance. Climbing into the front seat, Booker stared numbly out the window as they sped through the city streets to the same hospital where they had been a week before. Pulling outside the emergency department, they wheeled Tom through to an empty bay where a doctor and several nurses stood waiting. A nurse told him to stay in the waiting room until someone came to find him. Sitting down on the hard gray chair, Dennis noticed for the first time that Tom’s blood covered his hands and clothing. The true horror of the situation hit him hard and he burst into tears. Seeing his distress, a passing nurse sat down and put her arm around him. After several minutes, she escorted him to the bathroom and helped him to clean up. In a daze, Dennis watched as Tom’s blood swirled down the drain as the nurse scrubbed at his hands and arms. Leading him back to the waiting area, the nurse left but returned several minutes later with a cup of black coffee. “Is there anyone I can ring for you?” she asked kindly. Booker shook his head, too numb to realize that he should let Tom’s mother know what had happened.
Hours passed and Dennis sat with his head in his hands, desperately waiting for someone to tell him that Hanson was all right. He could not help but feel that he had failed Tom. As he repeatedly played the night’s events over in his mind, he wished he had not waited so long before barging into the bathroom. If Tom died, he would never know if those few vital minutes would have made any difference in keeping him alive. He should have insisted that Hanson seek professional help instead of thinking that he was equipped to deal with Tom’s depression. Once again, his arrogance had proved to be his downfall.
So caught up in his misery, Booker did not see the doctor until he was standing in front of him. Jumping out of his seat, he raked his hands through his hair. “Tell me he’s okay,” he implored. “Please tell me he’s okay!”
“Officer Hanson is in surgery,” the doctor replied. “Are you the next of kin?”
“No, um, we’re friends, we work together. Please, I need to know if he’s okay.  Please!” Booker pleaded, his eyes desperately searching the doctor’s face for answers.
Looking down at his clipboard, Doctor Jones read Tom’s notes. “The surgery is to repair the damage to the tendons. He’s lost a lot of blood, so he is having a transfusion.”
“And after?” Dennis whispered. “I mean, will he be all right after the surgery?”
“There is a chance he may not have full use of his hands,” Doctor Jones replied matter-of-factly. “It will take several months before we know the full extent of the damage.”
“Oh God,” Booker muttered softly. “When can I see him?”
“You can’t,” Jones replied brusquely. “When he’s well enough he’ll be sent to a psychiatric facility and only his next of kin will be able to visit. Which reminds me, do you have the name and number of his parents?”
“His mother’s name is Margaret, I don’t have a number but I can get it,” Dennis replied quietly.
“Phone it through as soon as you can,” the doctor instructed and without giving Booker a chance to reply, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Sitting back down, Booker covered his face with his hand and wept silently. Because of his poor judgment, Hanson now ran the risk of permanent disability. That, coupled with the doctor’s decision to sanction him to a secure psychiatric facility would surely mean the end to his career as a police officer.
Wiping his tears away, Booker stood up and exited the hospital. He now had to face the hardest conversation he had ever had in his life. Getting into his car, he drove the short distance to Penhall’s apartment.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Poor Tom