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Over the Hills and Far Away	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2103 -:- 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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A cold cup of coffee sat on the table next to Dennis. He had instantly forgotten about it once Tom started talking about his life since leaving the confines of Glenfield. Booker felt sick as Tom recounted how Grant Powell had cleverly preyed upon his vulnerabilities and insecurities. Hanson did not divulge how he received the bruising around his throat but Booker immediately recalled Emily Adams mentioning that when they admitted Tom to the hospital, a dog collar was around his neck. Dennis’ stomach lurched when he thought that Tom might be seeking to relive his time in captivity because being submissive was now the only way he knew how to please people. Dennis’ anger rose and for a fraction of a second he considered picking up the phone and giving Doctor Williams a piece of his mind. But when he looked into Tom’s tired, anxious face, he knew his first priority was to make his friend feel safe and cared for. He offered Tom a bed for the night and was pleased when he had not refused. Returning from making up his bed with fresh sheets, Dennis found Tom already asleep on the couch, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around his body. Finding a blanket, Dennis carefully covered Tom’s thin frame. Satisfied that he was comfortable, he sat down and played the night’s events over in his mind.
As the hours ticked by, Dennis’ eyes grew heavy and he fell into a light slumber. Minutes later, a loud cry pulled him back to reality and he rubbed at his eyes as his gaze found Tom. Although still asleep, Hanson’s body twitched violently as he began to scream. “NO ME HAGAS DAÑO! NO ME HAGAS DAÑO!” DON’T HURT ME! DON’T HURT ME!
Leaping out of his chair, Booker ran over and dropping to his knees, he pulled Tom into his arms. “Shh Tommy, wake up. Wake up! It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Tom’s eyes flew open, his expression full of panic. Breaking free of Dennis’ hold, he struggled to stand up but his head spun as a bout of dizziness hit him and he collapsed back onto the couch. Leaning forward, he threw up onto the floor, his breath hitching in his throat and he started to cry with embarrassment. He felt Dennis’ hand gently stroking his hair and memories of El Salvador intensified his grief. Drawing his knees up to his chin, he wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his head as he sobbed uncontrollably.

Tears filled Dennis’ eyes and he encircled his arms around Tom’s stiff body. This time, Tom relaxed into the warm embrace and he sobbed against Dennis’ chest. “I’m s-sorry D-Dennis,” he cried. “I’m s-so fucking s-sorry!”
Lifting Tom’s face, Dennis gazed at him with concern. “I don’t care about that,” he soothed, motioning towards the mess on the floor. “I want to know if you’re okay?”
Wiping away his tears, Tom nodded. “I s-stopped taking my m-medication,” he hiccuped. “I’ve b-been feeling unwell e-ever since.”
Dennis frowned. “Do you think that’s wise? I mean… have you spoken to a doctor about—“
“I DON’T NEED ANY MORE FUCKING DOCTORS!” Tom yelled, his mood instantly changing. “I CAN MAKE MY OWN FUCKING DECISIONS!”
Surprised by the sudden change in Tom’s demeanor, Booker pulled away. Standing up, he went into the kitchen and filled a bucket with warm water. Grabbing a roll of paper towel, he returned to the living room and started to clean up the vomit. Tom sat chewing on his fingernails, his mood once again contrite. “I’m sorry Dennis,” he mumbled softly. “I didn’t mean to yell.”
“It’s okay Tom,” Dennis replied with a sigh. Glancing at the clock, he stood up. “Maybe a good night’s sleep will help. You take the bed and I’ll take the couch. There’s a new toothbrush in the bathroom cupboard and I’ve left a towel on the bed. Do you need anything else?”
Shaking his head, Tom stood up and walked into the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. Dennis stared at the closed door for several minutes before picking up the bucket and walking into the bathroom. He emptied the filthy water into the sink, returned to the kitchen and threw the used paper towel into the trash. After switching off the lights, he lay down on the couch and rested his head on a cushion as he pulled the blanket over his body. He doubted he would be able to sleep, so he picked up the remote and flicked through the TV channels, finally settling on a Clint Eastwood movie. But within minutes, his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a troubled slumber.
**
Waking from a disturbed sleep, Dennis stretched out his arms and yawned loudly. Glancing over at the wall clock, he groaned when he saw it was nearly 5am. Swinging his legs over the edge of the couch, he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. As the clock struck five, he stood up and padded quietly into the bathroom so as not to wake Tom. Closing the door, he relieved his bladder before undressing and turning on the shower. Stepping into the cubicle, he sighed contentedly as the warm water cascaded over his body. As was his usual practice, his fingers lightly played over his early morning erection and bracing his free hand against the white tiled wall, he dropped his head and moaned with pleasure as he teased his cock to life. Although he was skilled at bringing himself to a euphoric release, he missed the intimacy of sharing a sexual encounter with another person. His last such experience had been when he had woken to the exquisite sensation of Tom’s hand wrapped around his cock, slowly jerking him off. He moaned loudly at the memory of Tom’s fingers tugging at his erection and his pace immediately intensified. As his fist pumped over his aching cock, he felt his orgasm rising and he began to pant. Moments later, he cried out as he climaxed, his semen coating his fingers before the warm water washed it away. He continued to fondle himself whilst he enjoyed the afterglow of his release. After a few minutes, he sighed heavily and picking up the soap, he lathered his muscular body. He finished up by washing his hair and when he was clean from head to toe, he turned off the faucets and stepped out of the shower. Having toweled himself dry, he brushed his teeth before running his fingers through his damp hair.
Wrapping his towel around his waist, he exited the bathroom. Standing outside his bedroom, he paused for a moment before quietly opening the door. Tom lay on his side with his eyes closed, the disheveled bed sheets indicating that he had endured a restless night’s sleep. Booker tiptoed into the room and began rummaging through his drawers for some clean clothes. He jumped slightly when Tom spoke. “It’s okay Dennis, I’m awake.”
Switching on the overhead light, Booker was shocked to see how fatigued Tom looked. His face was deathly pale and dark smudges blackened the skin beneath his eyes. Grabbing out a pair of boxers and a black t-shirt, Dennis walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Tom struggled to a sitting position and attempted to give Booker a smile. But his façade quickly crumbled and tears of exhaustion filled his eyes. Dennis draped an arm around Hanson’s shoulders and pulled him close. Tom rested his head against Booker’s shoulder and let out an audible sigh. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m just so fucking tired.”
Dennis gave Tom a gentle squeeze. “It’s still early days Tommy, it’s going to take some time for you to readjust.”
Tom rubbed at his eyes before lifting his head and gazing beseechingly into Booker’s eyes. “I don’t want to go back,” he whispered. “Please don’t send me back.”
Booker gave Tom a comforting hug. “Of course you’re not going back. I’ll go and get your things and you can move in here.” He paused for a moment before giving an uncertain smile. “I mean… that’s if you want to live here with me.”
“Yeah I do,” Hanson replied, the relief he felt evident in the tone of his voice. “Thanks.”
Standing up, Dennis smiled warmly. “That’s settled then. Now, try and get some sleep, it’s still early.”
Tom lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. Dennis picked up his clothing and exited the room, softly closing the door behind him. As he dressed in his clean clothes, he began to think about visiting the group home where Tom had been living. A vicious smile played over his lips as he planned on how to teach Grant Powell a lesson he would never forget.
**
Booker stood on the doorstep of the large 1920s house. He rang the bell and waited, his hands slowly clenching and unclenching into tight balls. When the door opened, he gave a bright smile to the man in front of him. “Hi, I’m looking for Grant Powell.”
“I’m Grant,” the man replied pleasantly. “How can I—“
Powell’s next words were immediately cut off as Booker let out a loud yell and rushing forward, he brutally slamming the stunned man against the interior wall. Wrapping his hand around Powell’s throat, he pinned the startled man against the wall. As his fingers squeezed tight, Powell’s eyes bulged and he began to struggle. Releasing his grip slightly, Booker tilted his head on one side and gave a menacing grin. “How does it feel to be choked?” he asked quietly.
“Can’t… breathe,” Powell gasped, his fingers clawing frantically at Booker’s hand.
Dennis squeezed for several more seconds before releasing his hold. Powell doubled over, coughing loudly as he struggled to regain his breath. When he eventually straightened, he gave Booker a confused look. “Who the hell are you?” he croaked.
Narrowing his eyes, Booker gave the man a hard stare. “I’m a friend of Tom’s,” he replied menacingly. “And if you EVER lay a finger on him again, I’ll hunt you down and give you the beating of your life. Understand?”
Powell’s eyes widened with fear and he frantically nodded his head. “Good,” Dennis murmured. “Now, I’m here to pick up Tom’s belongings. He won’t be living here anymore.”
With a shaky hand, Powell pointed up the stairs. “U-up th-there,” he stuttered nervously. “S-second r-room on the r-right.”
Reaching out, Booker patted Powell’s cheek. “Thanks Grant,” he replied quietly. “You’ve been a great help.”
Powell shrank away from Dennis’ touch. When Booker turned and walked up the stairs, he watched on silently, too afraid to move.
**
Returning home, Dennis tossed Tom’s bag onto the couch. Quietly opening the bedroom door, he smiled when he saw Tom lying peacefully asleep on the bed, the sheet pulled protectively up to his chin. Closing the door, he went into the kitchen a poured himself a cup of strong, sweet coffee. Sitting down, he sipped at the steaming brew whilst he pondered over how quickly his life had changed in the space of less than twenty-four hours. He wondered how different his life would be now that he had managed to get Tom to agree to stay with him. He hoped that he could be a positive influence in Tom’s rehabilitation and help him transition back into a stable way of life. But as he mentally mapped out the best way to help Tom, he had no idea what a roller coaster ride it was going to be and that Tom would have to reach rock bottom before being able to rebuild his life.
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- 13
- 14
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Over the Hills and Far Away