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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
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Tom’s release was not as simple as signing a few forms. The first step was a meeting with Tom’s doctor, with Hanson present, so they could discuss his medications and ongoing therapy. On the day of the appointment, Booker arrived at The Chapel early. Since visiting Hanson, he had not revealed to any of his colleagues that Tom had made contact. He assumed Penhall knew, as he and Tom were speaking regularly on the phone. However, as all the Jump Street officers were still giving him the silent treatment, Dennis did not feel inclined to disclose his and Hanson’s plans.
Seeing that his Captain was already in his office, Booker hesitantly knocked on the door. “Enter!” Fuller barked, his mood black after a breakfast meeting with his superiors. When he saw Dennis enter his office, he let out an audible sigh as he shuffled through some paperwork. “If this is about you getting back into the field Booker, you can save your breath. You’re to remain on desk duty until June. No arguments.”
“It’s not about that,” Dennis replied, taking a seat and giving his superior an unwavering look. “I don’t know if you’re aware Coach, but I’ve been to see Tom.”
Fuller’s hand stilled. “I’d heard. What’s you point?”
Booker took a deep breath. “Hanson’s agreed to come and live with me when he’s released, so I’m asking to take leave without pay so I can stay home with him and help him settle back into some kind of normality.”
Leaning back in his chair, Fuller tented his fingers underneath his chin and gave Dennis a hard stare. “For how long?”
Dennis’ eyes remained locked on his Captain’s. “For as long as it takes,” he replied coolly. When Fuller did not reply, Booker sighed heavily. “C’mon Coach, I’m doing nothing sitting around here day after day. If you won’t do it for me, do it for Hanson.”
Fuller’s expression softened slightly. “I want you back after summer break, no excuses. Understood?”
“Understood,” Booker replied softly. Standing up, he walked towards the door, before suddenly stopping and turning back around. “Thanks Cap’n.”
Adam gave a slight nod of his head. “Just make sure you do the right thing by Hanson and if you need help, for Christ’s sake, ask for it.”
Dennis gave a half smile. “Don’t worry Coach, I learnt my lesson the hard way,” he murmured, before turning on his heel and leaving The Chapel.
**
Sitting in Doctor Haverland’s office, Booker cast a nervous glance at Tom. The doctor had spent forty minutes talking and during most of that time, Hanson had sat with his eyes downcast, staring vacantly at his lap. Haverland had taken time to discuss the importance of Hanson continuing to take his antidepressants and that it was crucial that he visit his psychologist weekly to continue their discussion on what had happened at Riverbend. He also encouraged Tom to keep up the physiotherapy on his hands, in the hope that he would gain more movement in his fingers. When asked if he had any questions, Dennis had quizzed Haverland extensively about the therapy Tom had received inside Brentwood and was relieved when the doctor talked about the various difficulties Tom had encountered during his stay but did not mention any other suicide attempts whilst he had been receiving treatment. Booker also asked about how much help Tom would need because of the restrictions with his hands and the doctor told him that it would be extensive. Tom could not shower, dress or feed himself without help. Dennis nodded slowly as he took in everything he was told. Because he had focused on Tom’s mental health, he had not realized the extent of his friend’s physical disabilities. But it made no difference to him how much work looking after Hanson would be, he wanted to be the one to do it. Lastly, Booker brought up the HIV blood test that the hospital had administered weeks ago. When the doctor had rung his apartment looking to speak to Tom so he could discuss the results, Dennis had advised him to pass the information on to Brentwood. When Haverland told him that the results were negative, Booker gave an audible sigh of relief. It was another piece of positive news to help Tom with his recovery.
As the discussion drew to an end, Doctor Haverland addressed Hanson. “Are you sure you are comfortable going home with Mr. Booker, Tom? There are other arrangements we can make if you would prefer, such as a carer living in residence with you or moving into a group home.”
Tom lifted his eyes and gave a half smile. “I’m sure,” he murmured softly.
“Very good,” the doctor replied. “I’m recommending two sessions for you both to attend with the psychologist and once I have his report, we can look towards setting a date for your discharge.”
Booker gave Tom an encouraging smile. “Not long now Tommy,” he said quietly.
Hanson did not reply. Instead, he once again dropped his gaze as though talking about his release might prevent it from happening.
**
Hanson and Booker sat opposite each other in Doctor Jarrod Lewis’ expensively decorated office. Lewis sat off to the side, a notebook in his lap and his pen poised dramatically above it. He read his notes before continuing with the session. “So Tom, let’s go back to when you first knew you were going to be raped. Tell Dennis how it made you feel.”
Sensing Tom’s discomfort, Booker immediately interjected. “Is that really necessary? If Tom doesn’t want to tell me about what happened to him he doesn’t have to.”
The psychologist sighed in annoyance. “Mister Booker. As we have discussed previously, it is imperative that Tom can openly express what is troubling him to the person who is going to be closest to him andthat Mr. Booker, is you. He must be able to feel that he can trust you with his darkest secrets because if he cannot, he will never see the light. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Booker mumbled, still not happy with the way the doctor was conducting his therapy. But he knew he had no choice but to shut his mouth and let Lewis run the session his way, otherwise Tom might not get released.
“Tom?” Doctor Lewis prompted. “Please begin.”
Hanson shifted uncomfortably in his seat. For a second his fingers hovered over his bandaged arm but he quickly dropped his hand into his lap. “Um, I was scared,” he murmured in a low voice, his gaze dropping to the floor.
“Very good Tom, but I need you to be more specific. Tell Dennis exactly what happened after the boys came into your room.”
Tom’s eyes darted upwards for a fraction of a moment before again staring at the floor. “They pulled me from my bed,” he whispered. “Several of them held me bent over the sink and something sharp was jabbed against my throat. He told me I was pretty, just like Ricky Green and that I was to be his bitch.” Tom’s breathing became heavy and Booker felt his hands balling into fists as he watched his friend struggle to keep going. “I um, I struggled but they held me so tightly I couldn’t get away. I begged them not to but then… but then… someone pulled down my boxers and I could feel him… I could feel him pushing against me and—”
“ENOUGH!” Dennis yelled, jumping to his feet. Ignoring the doctor, he dropped to his knees in front of Hanson. “You don’t have to do this Tommy,” he said softly as he gently lifted Tom’s face so their eyes could meet. “I don’t want you to relive the pain just because some doctor tells you its therapy. If you’re not comfortable, we’ll find another doctor.”
Tears filled Tom’s eyes. “I want to go home,” he whispered as the tears slowly spilled over and trickled down his cheeks.
Booker spun around to face Doctor Lewis. “For God’s sake, can’t you see that this isn’t helping him!”
Lewis stared at his notes. “I’m sorry Mr. Booker, but I’m the one with a degree in psychology. If you want to help your friend you need to listen to what I have to say.”
Turning back to Hanson, Booker laid a hand on his knee. “It’s up to you Tommy. If you don’t want to continue, we find another way. Whatever you want, okay?”
Lifting his head, Tom stared deep into Dennis’ dark eyes. “I felt him Booker, pushing against me,” he muttered. “And then he was inside me and it hurt so much and he reached around and… Oh God Dennis… he was trying to get me hard but I didn’t and he was thrusting and the shiv was digging into my neck and everyone was laughing and then… and then he came and I felt it inside me and… and…” Tom did not continue as he burst into loud wracking sobs and his body trembled violently. Booker threw his arms around Hanson and held him close, murmuring comforting words in his ear.
Many minutes later, Tom’s sobbing became less intense and Dennis turned his head and addressed Lewis who was furiously writing in his notepad. “Are you fucking happy now?” he spat, not caring if he offended the man sitting in front of him.
The doctor smiled smugly. “Tom did a wonderful job, I’m very proud of him. One more successful session and I think he will be ready to go home.”
“Good,” Dennis snapped back. “Because the sooner I get him away from you, the better, he’ll be.”
Lewis stood up and towered over Booker and Tom. “You seem to be forgetting something Mr. Booker. Tom and I will continue our sessions on a weekly basis after he has been discharged from Brentwood.”
“We’ll see,” Dennis muttered angrily, as he stroked Tom’s hair. “We’ll see.”
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Poor Tom