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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
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Pacing the hospital waiting room, Tom felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity wash over him and he shivered in spite of the temperate conditions. It seemed like only yesterday he had paced the same hospital floors, desperate for news on Booker’s condition and he half expected to see Doctor Langley emerge from one of the exam rooms. However, in an eerie coincidence, it had actually been thirty-one weeks to the day since that fateful night... not that he was keeping count of course.
But no matter how long it had been, one thing remained the same; he once again found himself playing the waiting game. Sitting down on one of the plastic chairs, he leaned forward and propping his elbows on his knees, he laced his fingers together and stared dejectedly at the floor. Now that he was no longer a police officer, he wielded no power and he felt frustrated and impotent. In hindsight, he wished that he had not refused Doug’s offer to come to the hospital with him but it was Christmas Day and he knew his friend had plans with his on again, off again girlfriend, Dorothy. If Doug had been there, he might at least have been able to gain some information. But as his mother was so fond of saying, if wishes were horses then beggars would ride. Doug was not there and therefore, he would just have to remain patient and wait until a doctor came to speak to him.
His thoughts returned to Booker and when he eventually lifted his gaze to the round clock hanging on the cream painted wall, he realized he had been sitting for nearly two hours. Standing up, he braced his hands against his aching back and stretched out his muscles. He had a sudden craving for coffee and reaching into his pockets, he pulled out some coins and mentally counted them. He had left in such a hurry he had forgotten his wallet and he hoped he had enough for at least one cup. As he headed off in search of a coffee machine, he passed a doctor dressed in blue scrubs and carrying a clipboard, and on a whim, he reached out a hand and touched his arm. “Excuse me, do you have any news on a Dennis Booker who was brought in several hours ago?”
The doctor looked down at his notes before looking back at Tom. “Mister Hanson?” he queried.
Tom let out an audible sigh of relief. “Yes,” he replied quickly. “I’m Tom Hanson. Please, can you tell me how he is?”
The young doctor’s eyes shone with empathy. “Let’s take a seat,” he suggested and without waiting for Tom to answer, he strode into the waiting room and sat down.
Chewing nervously on his lower lip, Tom followed the doctor and sat on the edge of the seat next to him. When he spoke, he found it difficult to keep his voice steady. “Is he going to be okay?”
Doctor Jones balanced the clipboard on his knees and gave Tom a sympathetic look. “You need to be prepared, your friend has sustained some terrible injures and psychologically, he appears to have suffered a breakdown.”
Tom blinked back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes and clenching his hands into tight fists, he struggled to gain control of his emotions. “Has he said anything?”
The doctor’s expression became serious. “Actually, before he was sedated, he screamed the same thing over and over again.”
Fear gripped at Tom’s heart. “What was he saying?” he asked in a trembling voice.
Jones read the words from his notes. “Please help my Daddy. Do you know what that means?”
The tears he had tried so hard to conceal finally brimmed over and trickled down Tom’s cheeks. “Yes,” he murmured, “he’s not talking about his father. I’m pretty sure Daddy refers to the man he’s been living with for the last four months… the same man he willing allowed to abuse him.”
Doctor Jones’ hazel eyes widened in shock. “Willingly allowed to abuse him?” he echoed and getting up from his seat, he gazed down at Tom. “I think you and I need to talk.”
**
An hour later, after explaining everything to Doctor Jones, Tom let out a weary sigh. “If it’s okay, I’d really like to see Dennis now.”
Doctor Jones narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
Tom’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Why not? I won’t disturb him, I just want to see him for a few minutes, that’s all.”
Pushing his notes to one side, Jones gave Tom a measured look. “Are you sure you’re ready to see the man who raped you Tom?”
The doctor’s words cut Tom like a knife and his heart began to pound in his chest. “No,” he admitted in a shaky voice, “I’m not sure I am. But I need to see him and I can deal with my feelings later.” When Jones remained silent, he leaned forward in his chair and stared at him beseechingly. “Please,” he implored softly.
Jones exhaled heavily. “Okay, but just for a minute. As I said, he’s been prescribed sedatives to keep him calm and help him with his drug withdrawal so be prepared, he may not know you’re there.”
“Drug withdrawal?” Tom parroted in bewilderment. “He’s been using?”
Doctor Jones nodded his head. “According to the toxicology report, he had traces of cocaine, heroin and methamphetamine in his system. To be honest, it’s surprising he didn’t die of a drug overdose.”
Sweat beaded on Tom’s brow and his dark eyes filled with pain. With every new piece of information he received, his heart plummeted. Booker was not only going to have to deal with the psychological aspects of submitting to rape and torture, he was also going to have to deal with the physical aspects of drug withdrawal. It was just another setback to add to the list that would ultimately impede his recovery.
Sensing Tom’s despair, Gareth Jones stood up and walking around his desk, he perched on the edge and gave an encouraging smile. “I know it all sounds rather hopeless, but with the right help, Dennis should be able to put all of this behind him and start a new life.”
Tom immediately noticed the doctor’s slip of the tongue and he began to chew furiously on his lower lip. “Should be able to?” he asked in a raised voice. “Does that mean he might not recover from what happened to him?”
Realizing his mistake, the doctor quickly tried to reassure Tom. “That’s not what I meant. Many men and women who have been subjected to the same level of trauma as Dennis go on to live—”
“And many don’t,” Tom stated in a flat voice.
Jones let out a heavy sigh. “Yes,” he conceded. “Many don’t. But it’s too early to say which category Dennis will fall into.”
Running a trembling hand through his hair, Tom spoke in a barely audible voice. “And if he doesn’t recover, what then?”
Not wanting to alarm Tom more than he already had, Doctor Jones gave a small smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. For the moment, we need to concentrate on keeping Dennis as comfortable as possible and tomorrow, a team of doctors will meet to discuss his treatment.” Seeing Tom’s disheartened expression, he widened his smile and stood up. “Come on, I’ll take you up to see him.”
Too emotionally drained to push the matter further, Tom nodded his head and silently followed the doctor through the hospital corridors until they finally stopped outside a private room on the third floor. He waited patiently as Jones spoke to the senior nurse, his heart rate steadily increasing at the knowledge that after four months, he was finally going to see the man who had raped him.
He jumped slightly when a hand rested on his shoulder and turning around, he gave Gareth Jones a small smile. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little anxious.”
The doctor returned an understanding smile. “You’ll be fine. Just remember, he’s been through a heck of a lot and his appearance may shock you.”
Tom thought back to when he had found Booker in the basement and taking a deep, calming breath, he exhaled slowly and rubbed his sweaty palms nervously down the front of his jeans. “It’s okay,” he replied softly, “I’ve seen just about every horror you can imagine.”
Following Jones into the room, he stopped a few feet from the bed and waited patiently as the doctor attended to Booker. From his vantage point, he could not see Booker’s face but he was shocked when he heard him speak and his anxiety immediately intensified. He had expected Booker to be sedated or asleep but it was obvious that he was very much awake and aware of his surroundings. This was not the scenario he had expected and a lump formed in his throat. He was about to face Booker for the first time since his rape and now that it was a reality, he was not sure that he was ready to deal with the emotion.
Realizing that he had clenched his hands into such tight fists that his fingernails were biting into his palms, he quickly unfurled them and spread out his fingers. For a fraction of a moment, he considered turning around and walking out of the room but as his mind struggled with his dilemma, he heard Doctor Jones’ voice telling Dennis he had a visitor and he knew it was too late to do anything but face up to his fear.
When Jones stepped back from the bed, Tom got his first clear glimpse of Booker. His heart leaped into his throat and his hands immediately balled back into tight fists. Booker’s face was deathly pale, dark shadows circled his eyes and several bruises adorned his chin. However, what shocked Tom the most were the deep jagged cuts that crisscrossed Booker’s once smooth and flawless chest. Painful looking burns surrounded each bloody wound, all of which were in various stages of healing and the sight reminded him of the body of a dead prostitute he had encountered in an alleyway not long after graduating from the academy. Hot bile rose in his throat and sweat prickled his top lip. His once beautiful Dennis had become a psychopath’s sadistic artwork, a ripped and bloody canvas born from a demented hand. The reality of what Dennis must have endured hit him hard and swaying unsteadily on his feet, the thought he had been trying desperately to suppress popped into his mind; what kind of man willingly allowed himself to be systematically abused in such a depraved manner?
A loud distressed moan brought him back to the present and regaining his focus, he saw Booker’s wide terrified eyes staring up at him. “Dennis,” he murmured shakily and stepping forward, he attempted to smile. “It’s me, it’s Tom.”
Booker cowered away in fear. “No, no, no,” he moaned, his voice rising steadily higher. “You’re not real! I killed you! I KILLED you!”
Doctor Jones glanced quickly at Tom before stepping forward and laying a reassuring hand on Booker’s shoulder. “No Dennis, this is Tom. You remember Tom, you worked together.”
“NO!” Dennis screamed and thrashing violently in his bed, he began to tear at his hair. “I KILLED TOM! I RAPED HIM AND KILLED HIM! HE’S DEAD! HE’S DEAD!”
Fearing that Dennis might hurt himself, Doctor Jones quickly restrained him and pressed the emergency button above the bed. “Leave!” he yelled at Tom and turning his attention back to Dennis, he spoke to him in a comforting tone. “It’s okay Dennis, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of, you’re safe, no one can hurt you here.”
Horrified by what he had just witnessed, Tom backed away towards the door and almost collided with two nurses. “I’m sorry,” he muttered before a wave of nausea overwhelmed him and clamping a hand over his mouth he ran from the room.
**
Leaning heavily on the hand basin in the men’s room, Tom scooped a handful of water into his mouth. As the cool liquid soothed his raw throat, he closed his eyes and attempted to push the sound of Dennis’ terrified screams from his mind. In his desperation to see his friend, he had inadvertently brought about more distress, although he could never have predicted that his presence would cause such a level of anguish. He had no idea why Booker thought he was dead but he put it down to his deluded state of mind. However, now that he knew what he was dealing with, he would have to keep his distance until a psychologist had spoken to him, otherwise he was in danger of causing more damage to an already broken mind.
Turning off the faucet, he lifted his head and swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. Booker had suffered four months of unspeakable abuse and after witnessing his hysterical outburst, Tom doubted if he would ever again be the man he had fallen in love with.
- 15
- 16
- 17
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To Chase a Feather in the Wind