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To Chase a Feather in the Wind	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1696 -:- 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
- 13
- 14
- 15
Ten days later
Booker opened his eyes and letting out a contented sigh, he snuggled down deeper into the soft mattress. The night before, Daddy had taught him a brutal lesson and a six-inch knife wound across his belly was the latest of many cuts that decorated his muscular body. But because he had taken his punishment without complaint, he had been rewarded and he had slept the whole night wrapped in Daddy’s protective embrace. The effects of the drugs from the night before had not yet completely worn off and he was almost free from pain, but as his mind slowly awakened, the realization suddenly hit him that being comfortable was not a good thing. Without pain, there was no penance and without penance, he was nothing more than a depraved, disgusting rapist who had killed his friend.
His happy mood quickly evaporated and tears filled his eyes. He had taken the life of the one man who had not avoided him after the rapes. Tom was the only officer in the Jump Street program who had offered the hand of friendship when he needed it the most and he now had to live with the knowledge that because of that friendship, he had killed a man in cold blood.
The need to repent for his sins suddenly overwhelmed him and reaching down, he began to tear at the wound on his stomach with his bare hands. As the scab ripped open, he felt a rush of pain and relief flooded through his body. He was bad… bad, bad, bad, bad, bad and he needed to be punished, he needed to pay for his transgressions; he needed to suffer.
Spots of blood splattered against the white sheet beneath him as his fingers continued to rip at his own flesh. The pain was almost unbearable but he did not cry out. He suffered more if he held the pain inside, to cry out alleviated some of the agony he was inflicting on himself and he did not deserve any kind of mercy because if he allowed himself that luxury, he might forget who he really was… a rapist and a murderer.
A loud yell followed by a stinging blow to the side of his head had him reeling in shock and looking up, he saw his Daddy’s furious face glaring down at him.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” Conan yelled and grabbing a handful of Booker’s hair, he forced his face down against the bloodstained sheet. “LOOK AT THE FUCKING MESS YOU’VE MADE!”
Tears filled Booker’s eyes. “I’m s-sorry,” he sobbed, “I had to repent!”
Conan yanked Booker’s head up by his hair until their eyes met. “Oh you’ll repent baby doll, don’t worry about that, but I can’t have you looking like damaged goods. Scars are a turn on, bloody wounds aren’t. Understood?”
Booker tried to nod his assent but Conan’s strong grasp on his hair kept his head immobile. “Y-Yes,” he stuttered. I understand… I understand.”
A large foot kicked him forcibly in the stomach and he fell to the floor with a loud thud. An amused snort sounded from the bed and looking up, he saw Conan’s face staring down at him. “Get cleaned up,” the large man growled. “They’ll be here soon.”
A shiver ran down Booker’s spine and hauling himself to his feet, he staggered into the bathroom.
**
One month later
Sitting in his Mustang, Tom stared up at the Chapel’s stained glass windows whilst chewing anxiously on his lower lip. He had spent the previous night worrying about whether he was making the right decision but eventually, he had convinced himself that he was. His life had changed irrevocably and he now knew there was no turning back. The night he had found Booker lying battered and bleeding on the basement floor had been the catalyst and since then, things had steadily become worse. He had changed in many ways and he knew that whatever happened, the carefree Tom Hanson of old was gone, dead and buried on the night he had ascended the basement steps into hell. Never would he be able to view life in the same way again. He had experienced too much pain, his life had been altered forever… and it was all because he had dared to open his heart to love.
Booker occupied his every waking thought and then, when darkness fell, he haunted his dreams. Even though Fuller had tried his best, since the announcement of Booker’s discharge there had been no official investigation into his disappearance. Forced into action, Tom had made the unprecedented step of visiting the Commissioner himself and begging him to reconsider but he had received the same verbatim answer Adam Fuller had received when he had approached his superior; Booker was a grown man. He had willing sought out the whereabouts of Maurice Keppler and therefore, it was not a police matter.
Tom’s next avenue of inquiry had been Booker’s parents but their hostile indifference quickly told him that they too had little sympathy for a man who had gone looking for his abuser. It was frustrating and infuriating but at the precise moment when Judy Booker slammed the front door in his face, he knew he had to go it alone. He would devote the rest of his life searching for the man he loved. He owed Booker that much.
With a heavy sigh, he opened the Mustang’s door and climbed out of the vehicle. There was no point putting it off any longer, he knew what he had to do and the sooner he did it, the sooner he could start looking for his friend. Entering the main operations room, he avoided Penhall’s gaze and quickly walked to the open door of Fuller’s office. Rapping his knuckles on the wooden paneling, he waited for his Captain to lift his head before speaking. “Can I come in Coach?”
Adam Fuller pushed his paperwork aside and beckoned for him to enter. “What can I do for you Hanson?”
Tom walked up to the desk and without hesitation, he pulled out his gun and badge and laid them on the wooden surface. “I’m handing in my resignation.”
Fuller’s dark eyes widened in surprise. “You’re resigning? Tom, have you given this serious thought? I know things have been difficult for you the last few months but you’re a good cop and you have a very promising career ahead of you.”
Lowering his eyes, Tom jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “I have thought about it Cap’n and I just can’t do it anymore. The department doesn’t give a shit about Booker and—”
Fuller let out a sigh of understanding. “Of course, this is about Booker.”
Lifting his gaze, Tom’s eyes flashed with anger. “Of course this is about Booker! Why am I the only person who seems to give a damn about him?”
A deep frown creased Fuller’s brow. “Booker raped you Tom, he committed a heinous crime and—”
“AND I’VE FORGIVEN HIM!” Tom yelled back in frustration. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you people? It’s obvious he’s had a mental breakdown but you and Penhall are treating him like a fucking criminal! Why won’t you help him?”
“I don’t know what it is you expect me to do Hanson,” Fuller replied in a quiet voice. “I’ve been to the Commissioner but without his say so I can’t—”
Tom threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t need your help.”
Rising to his feet, Fuller tried to calm the situation. “Hanson wait, let’s discuss this and maybe we can—”
“Forget it Coach,” Tom muttered despondently and reaching across the desk, he offered his hand. “Thanks for everything, it’s been an honor and a privilege working with you.”
When Fuller realized that Tom had made up his mind and there was no talking him out of his decision, his dark eyes filled with sorrow and taking Tom’s hand in his, he shook it warmly. “We’re going to miss you Hanson,” he murmured.
Tom smiled a sad smile. “I’m going to miss you too.”
**
One month later
Standing naked in front of a dozen prying eyes, Booker bowed his head submissively, just as Daddy had taught him. He knew the drill, it was an auction and the highest bidder won the goods… him. Every Friday night for the last few months he had been paraded in front of potential buyers, all vying to out bid each other so that they won the right to have him as their sex slave for one night. He recognized four of the men, they were the regulars who turned up every week with pockets loaded with money and various drugs. They were the in crowd, his Daddy’s close friends and more often than not, one of them won the bidding. But tonight there was a new face in the crowd, another member of the elite club and new meant unpredictable. He knew from experience that if this man won the auction, he was flying blind. After months of conditioning, he knew what to expect from the others; George enjoyed biting, Daniel got his pleasure from fisting, Nat's fetish was bondage and Carl got his kicks using sex toys. All of them left their mark in some way and although he fed off the pain they inflicted (pain was his penance), he felt safe in their company. But now, with a new player in town, all that could very easily change.
Everyone except the new man had placed their bid and when he finally approached, Booker’s body began to tremble. Staring down at the floor, he tried not to flinch when callused fingers stroked his cock. “Nice,” the man purred softly as his hand traveled up Booker’s torso before coming to rest at the base of his throat where he proceeded to squeeze with gentle force. “Let’s get a look at that pretty face of yours.”
Dennis lifted his head whilst struggling to keep his breathing under control. The pressure around his throat was slowly increasing and if the man did not remove his hand soon, he was at risk of passing out. “Fuck,” the man breathed as he gazed deep into Dennis’ frightened eyes, “you’re one beautiful sonofabitch.”
“That’s enough,” Conan growled and moving forward, he pulled the man’s hand from Booker’s throat. “No playing with the merchandise until he’s yours.”
The man’s eyes glinted with malice and turning to face Conan, he pulled out a wad of cash. “A thousand dollars, but I get to rough him up.”
“Exactly how do you plan to rough him up Leroy?” Conan asked in a low voice, his covetous eyes staring at the rolled up banknotes.
A sinister smile played over Leroy’s full lips. “Use your imagination Conan,” he murmured softly.
With his gaze fixed on the money, Conan ran his tongue over his lower lip. “If you’re gonna make a mess of him I need compensation, so to speak. Fifteen hundred and he’s yours for the night.”
Leroy’s face split into a wide grin. “Deal,” he replied and he quickly peeled fifteen, crisp one-hundred dollar bills from the roll in his hand and passed them to Conan. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
When Conan’s gaze met Dennis’ frightened eyes, he laughed softly. “Be good baby doll,” he murmured and turning away, he left the room, followed by the other four men.
Once they were alone, Leroy’s hand found its way back around Booker’s neck. “Mmm, baby doll… I like it,” he crooned menacingly whilst increasing the pressure around Booker’s throat. “But I think I’m gonna give you a new name, at least for tonight. Let’s see… how about… filthy whore!” and with an angry yell, he slammed his fist into Booker’s jaw.
Dennis staggered backwards, but with Leroy’s large hand still clamped around his throat, he did not fall. Searing pain radiated through his head and when he caught a glimpse of the maniacal glint in Leroy’s eyes, he knew that he would be paying the ultimate penance for his sins.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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To Chase a Feather in the Wind