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Beneath a Heart of Darkness	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 4657 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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 cacophony of screams, wails, and the stomach-churning rumblings of uncontrolled bodily functions filled St. Andrew's ER. A young child’s incessant crying sounded from the curtained cubicle to Booker’s right, the piercing shrieks jangling his nerves. Paroxysmal coughing assaulted him from the left, and he instinctively placed a shaky hand over his nose and mouth, shielding himself from the exposed germs floating unseen through the contaminated atmosphere. Rancid odors hung heavily in the air; the foul smells mingling with the faint scent of disinfectant, and he longed to make his escape. He hated being in proximity to the sick and dying, not just because hospitals were a breeding ground for all manner of diseases, but because they reminded him of his mortality and the fragility of life. Although he lived an existence fraught with danger, at twenty-three, he mostly felt bulletproof. However, there were times when the haunting reality of his ephemerality and vulnerability confronted him head on. Unfortunately, living to a ripe old age was not a guarantee. Life could be fleeting, especially when you were a cop, and he had caught a glimpse of eternal darkness on more than one occasion. But generally, he tried not to dwell on it. He enjoyed his job too much, and the thought of trading it in for a peaceful, safe existence was not an option; not now, not ever. His philosophy was simple; once a cop, always a cop.
With a heavy sigh, he climbed from the narrow gurney and peeked out of the screened cubicle. An hour had passed since the doctor (who with his youthful looks did a passable impression of Doogie Howser) had assessed him, and he began to wonder if the young intern had completely forgotten he was there. But just as he was about to take matters into his own hands and go in search of Tom, the medic appeared from between the folds of the blue curtained cubicle next to him.
“Officer Booker,” the doctor greeted in a voice tinged with weariness. “I was just coming to see you. How are—”
“Is Tom okay?” Booker asked abruptly. Fatigue and worry had put him in a churlish mood, and he had no time for pleasantries. What was foremost on his mind was Tom’s welfare; everything else was secondary.
Doctor Daniel Morris motioned toward the cubicle. “Why don’t we take a seat so we can discuss—”
“I DON’T WANT TO TAKE A SEAT!” Booker yelled, his patience now wearing thin. “I’VE SAT FOR THE LAST TWO FUCKING HOURS AND NOW I WANT SOME ANSWERS. IS… TOM… O-KAY?”
Unaffected by the young officer’s outburst, Daniel’s countenance remained composed. “He’s under the care of a specialist doctor who is conducting a thorough examination. That’s all I can disclose to you right now.”
Overcome with exhaustion and frustration, Booker closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He was a hothead by nature, but he knew it occasionally worked against him. If he had any chance of seeing Tom, he needed to play the game because ultimately, the doctors had all the power.
After taking a deep, calming breath, he opened his eyes and gave the young man an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. It’s just… I was there; I saw what they did to him and… Shit! He’s my friend; I just want to know if he’s okay.”
Moved by Booker’s honest admission, Morris laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Officer Hanson is in good hands. Let us do our job and then, if Tom’s up to it, you can see him. Okay?”
Booker recognized the futility in any further argument and with sagging shoulders, he exhaled a dejected sigh. There was only one thing left for him to do and he could not put it off any longer. The moment he had been dreading had arrived, and wiping a hand over his tired eyes, he spoke in a flat voice. “I need to make a call.”
**
Forty minutes later
Booker shifted uncomfortably, the hard plastic chair digging into his side. His right leg jiggled nervously as he continued his visual scan of the ER’s main doorway, waiting for the hurricane he knew was about to blow in. He still wasn’t sure what he would say; he had revealed virtually nothing during his brief phone conversation. But he knew he could not stall forever; his captain would demand answers, and there was nowhere to hide.
Penhall’s loud voice alerted Booker to his presence long before he entered the room. “I DON’T CARE, COACH! IF HE’S DONE ANYTHING TO HURT TOM, I’LL FUCKING KILL HIM!”
In response, Booker rose to his feet and addressed the two men as they approached, his expression strained. “I—”
Without waiting for an explanation, Penhall drew back his fist and punched Booker square in the mouth. A collective gasp sounded around the busy ER as the dark-haired officer staggered backward, the force of his weight knocking over several of the brightly colored chairs. However, he just managed to stay on his feet and after recovering his balance, he wiped a hand over his bloody lip, his expression furious. “What the hell is your problem?”
Penhall took a threatening step forward, his dark eyes flashing dangerously, but Fuller quickly intervened. “Doug,” he cautioned. “Let the man speak.”
The two young officers remained face-to-face, nostrils flaring, their eyes narrowed with distrust. With his pride wounded, Booker stood with hands clenched, ready to throw the next punch if necessary. But surprisingly, after several seconds of macho muscle-flexing, Penhall’s shoulders slumped, and he took a step back. “Just tell me he’s okay,” he appealed softly, his dark eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Unable to meet Doug’s impassioned stare, Booker lowered his gaze to the scuffed linoleum floor. “He’s with the doctor, but they—”
“Let’s find somewhere private to talk,” Fuller suggested, his eyes focusing on Booker. “You have plenty of explaining to do.”
The three men walked over to a row of vacant seats at the back of the room and sat down. From the grave expression on his commander’s face, Dennis knew he was in serious trouble, and he kept his gaze firmly fixed to the floor, a sheepish blush coloring his cheeks. This was the moment he had been dreading, the moment when he was about to defy his captain by boldly refusing to explain what had happened. But he had no choice; Tom had made it perfectly clear he did not want anyone to know about the rape. Through necessity, he had broken his friend’s trust once by tricking him into calling the paramedics, but he would be damned if he would betray him again.
Penhall opened his mouth to speak, but Fuller beat him to the punch. “Tell me what his injuries are.”
The pinkish hue coloring Booker’s cheeks deepened, flaming his tanned skin bright red. With a regretful sigh, he leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees and held his aching head in his hands. There was no way around it, the shit was about to hit the fan, and all he could do was prepare himself for the aftermath. “I can’t.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T?” Penhall exploded, the resonance of his voice rising to a yell. “OF COURSE YOU CAN! YOU JUST OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND SAY THE FUCKING WORDS!”
Booker’s head shook slowly back and forth. “Please don't ask me again, Cap'n,” he implored softly. “I can't keep betraying Tom. I can’t… I just can’t.”
A deep frown marred Penhall’s handsome features. “You betrayed Tommy? What the hell did you do to him, you sonofabitch?”
“I didn’t do any—” Booker started to protest, but the last word caught painfully in his throat, and the air suddenly rushed from his lungs, leaving him struggling for breath. His words were a lie because he had done something, and it was so abhorrent, he wondered if he would ever be able to live with himself. He had sexually abused a defenseless man, and even though his heart told him he hadn’t had a choice, it was still a bitter pill to swallow.
When a gentle hand gripped his shoulder, he instinctively jerked away. He wasn’t seeking comfort, all he yearned was the knowledge Tom was all right. Nothing mattered except Hanson’s well-being, and even the unwelcome thought of losing the friendship he had coveted for so long paled into insignificance. As painful as it would be, he could live without Tom in his life, but he knew he would never forgive himself if the young officer did not recover from the assault.
Although Booker’s distress was obvious, as a commanding officer, Fuller was not about to let the matter drop. With one of his officers injured, he needed to know all the facts before he reported the incident to the Commissioner. “I’m not interested in your perceived obligation to Hanson,” he stated in a cool voice. “I want to know what happened, and I want to know—”
“Doctor Morris!” Booker exclaimed, and ignoring Fuller, he leaped from his chair and rushed over to the intern. “Is he okay? Can I see him?”
Daniel ran his fingers through his closely cropped hair. “He’s resting comfortably, but I’m afraid the visit will have to wait. Tom’s requested privacy at this time.”
Not about to let the doctor walk away without gaining some answers, Fuller rose to his feet. “I’m Captain Fuller, Hanson’s commanding officer. What is the nature of his injury?”
Surprised by the question, Morris’ gaze flitted over to Booker before returning to Fuller. He had expected Dennis to disclose the day’s events to his captain, but it was obvious he was protecting his friend, and he understood why. After speaking to Tom, he knew the young officer was adamant about not pressing charges, and therefore, in the eyes of the hospital, it was not a police matter. His only priority was to his patient, and if Tom did not want people knowing about his rape, then he certainly wasn’t going to disclose the information.
A shiver of unease ran down his spine, and he nervously ran his tongue over his lips. He’d had dealings with overbearing police before, and after a thirty-six-hour shift, he was in no mood for a confrontation. “I’m sorry,” he replied with a faint smile. “I’m not at liberty to discuss Officer Hanson’s medical condition with you.”
“Listen,” Fuller barked, a thunderous expression clouding his face. “I want to know what—”
“And I said no,” Morris shot back with a sudden confidence belying his young age. “Come back tomorrow, and if Tom wants to discuss what happened, you can get the story directly from him. But I’m warning you, if he doesn’t want to speak about it you’d better not pressure him because if you upset him in any way, they’ll be consequences. Understood?”
Aggravated, yet mildly impressed by the young doctor’s audacious statement, Fuller narrowed his eyes. But he knew he was fighting a losing battle, and so, he decided not to interrogate the doctor further. “We’ll be back in the morning,” he announced stiffly, and without waiting for Penhall, he stormed from the ER.
A smug smile twitched at Morris’ lips, but when he caught sight of Booker’s worried expression, his professionalism returned. “I’ll let Tom know you were asking after him,” he promised, the corners of his eyes crinkling with kindness.
Booker managed a half-hearted smile in return, and avoiding Penhall’s confused gaze, he walked out the door.
**
Tom lay on his side staring out at the blackness framed within the large paned window of his hospital room. Traffic noise filtered up from the street below, reminding him there was still a functioning world outside where people were going about their business, oblivious to the pain of those trapped inside a living nightmare. For over an hour, he had been subjected to humiliating examinations by a po-faced doctor who had prodded, poked and fondled him with detached intimacy. But throughout it all, Tom’s face had remained impassive. There was no dignity left to lose, no degradation he had not experienced, and although a fiery pain flared throughout his lower body, his mind remained numb. He expressed no tears or anger, all that remained was quiet acceptance. His life would continue on, but he would never be the same. He was hollow inside, the Tom Hanson of old no longer existed, and all that remained was an animated corpse incapable of emotion.
When a nurse’s raucous laugh sounded loudly from the corridor outside his room, he covered his ears, not wanting to experience her joy. His eyes remained focused on the hypnotizing blackness of the outside world, and he took comfort from the knowledge it would eventually wrap him in its icy tendrils, and safely cocoon him within his own growing insanity.
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Beneath a Heart of Darkness