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Chasing a Butterfly	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2592 -:- 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
- 15
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- 17
Thursday October 19^th 1989 (2.39 p.m.)
Tears of shame spilled from Tom’s dark eyes, the salty droplets mixing with the warm water cascading over his naked body. Now that his mind was free of the effects of the drugs, he had time to reflect on the past seven months of his life and the true horror of his existence overwhelmed his senses, sending hot bile flooding into his throat. With a soft cry, he clutched his stomach and doubling over, he spewed up the watery liquid onto the shower floor. His empty stomach cramped from the effort and placing a trembling hand against the tiled wall, he attempted to calm himself. As the pain in his gut slowly eased, he tipped his head back and allowed the soothing stream of water to wash away his tears. He needed to man up and accept what he had done, both to himself and to those he loved. Penhall was dead, Harry had suffered a debilitating injury and Booker…
Lowering his head, he gazed down at the mass of greenish-yellow bruises covering his torso, each one the result of the vicious blows Booker had rained down on his body. He trailed his fingertips lightly over each contusion, testing the tenderness of each spot before moving onto the next. When his finger probed a particularly large bruise covering his ribs, he flinched in pain and drew his hand away. Each discoloration was an allegory of Booker’s rage and yet it was that unleashing of fury that had ultimately led to their passionate fornication. During their coupling, he had believed it to be nothing more than lust and a desperate need to get off, but when the post-climactic calm had washed over his tired, aching body, his eyes had locked with Booker’s and he had felt a connection. But it had been so long since he had felt anything other than emptiness inside his soul and the rawness of the emotion had terrified him. He knew Booker had felt it too, but he could not cope with the complexities of what that meant and so he had played it cool. However, he knew the pain he had witnessed in Booker’s eyes when he had brashly told him it was just sex would stay with him forever and he now understood it had been that moment that was the catalyst for what had happened next. A sudden panic had consumed him and he knew he could not continue to live a life knowing that Booker thought he was incapable of love. It had been an unexpected revelation and he had no idea why that particular rationale had suddenly been so important to him… until now. Now he knew and the reality of it was more than a little unnerving.
He was falling in love with Booker.
A loud knock on the bathroom door pulled him back to the present with a start and wiping the water from his face, he called out to the hospital security guard outside the door. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Turning off the faucets, he stepped out of the small cubicle and gingerly rubbed himself dry. The towel came away bloody and grasping hold of the hand basin, he screwed his eyes closed and slowly counted to ten. There was no point in crying, what was done was done and being raped was not the worst thing that had happened to him; the worst thing was taking the life of his friend.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled on a clean hospital gown and exited the private bathroom. The security guard immediately placed a set of handcuffs on his wrist and led him over to the bed. Once he was comfortable, the young officer snapped the other cuff around the bedrail and stepped back. “Sorry,” he said with a slow southern drawl, “but the cops were pretty insistent you remain cuffed at all times except in the bathroom.”
Tom gave the handsome young man an understanding smile. “Not your fault,” he murmured as he studied the guard’s face. He had been doing that a lot over the last few hours, scrutinizing the male nurses, orderlies and hospital staff to see if he felt an attraction towards any of them. But there had not been even a glimmer of desire within him and the realization only added to his confusion. He had readily given his body over to other men but that had been a means to an end; he wanted drugs and Drexl supplied them as long as he gave his clients what they wanted. In the beginning, he had thought he would not enjoy the sex, but he had been pleasantly surprised. However, it had only been a physical stimulation, not an emotional one that had sent nerve-jangling orgasms shooting through his body time after time. But now… now there was Booker and suddenly, it was a whole new ballgame. There was a strange affinity between the two of them that he did not understand. He was attracted to the dark haired officer in a way that made his stomach flip-flop with longing and his heart flutter with desire whenever he thought about him. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time but he knew he could not give into his feelings. He had almost slipped up and told Booker how he felt but to do so would only end in tragedy. Booker deserved better, he deserved a future with a partner who could be there for him, not a whore who was facing a lengthy prison term.
As hot tears once again blurred his vision, he turned on his side and closed his eyes. Whether he liked it or not, he had to face up to the harsh reality that he was destined never to know the love of Dennis Booker.
****
Thursday October 19^th 1989 (3.28 p.m.)
When a gentle hand rested on the top of his head, Tom’s eyes slowly opened and rolling over, he gazed up into Booker’s dark, compassionate eyes. “Hey,” he mumbled sleepily, “what are you doing here?”
Dennis’ lips curled at the edges as he took in Tom’s disheveled appearance. His hair stuck up in soft peaks around his skull, the tousled look giving him an almost childlike appearance and for Dennis, the sight was both adorable and heartbreaking in its normality. But what Tom had been through was anything but normal and his heart plummeted at the news he was about to give. Moving away from the bed, he closed the door to give them some privacy before returning to Tom’s bedside. “We need to talk.”
Struggling to a sitting position, Tom rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. “Sounds ominous. What’s up?”
Booker hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “We’re taking you back to L.A. tomorrow,” he informed his friend in a soft voice. “The doctor says you’re well enough to travel so…”
A flicker of fear flashed in Tom’s eyes before the look was replaced by a calm acceptance. “Okay.”
Booker’s brow creased into a deep frown. “Okay?” he parroted. “Is that all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say?” Tom snapped back, the timbre of his voice rising slightly in agitation. “There’s no getting around it Booker, I’m going to be charged with negligent homicide, drug dealing, assault and kidnapping. It doesn’t matter if I go back tomorrow or a month from now, the outcome’s going to be the same; I’m going to prison.”
“So you’re just giving up, you’re not even going to try and fight?” Booker shot back angrily. “What the fuck is wrong with you? This is your life Tommy… your fucking life!”
A petulant pout formed on Tom’s lips. “There’s nothing to fight,” he muttered moodily. “I’m guilty on all charges, end of story.”
Booker glared back defiantly. “No you’re not. I assaulted Harry and there was no kidnapping.”
Tom narrowed his eyes and stared angrily back at his friend. “Don’t,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I’ve already told you, I want to take the fall, there’s no point in both of us—”
“OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Booker yelled, his eyes blazing with fury and getting to his feet, he began to pace the floor in agitation. “This isn’t a game Hanson, this is real… fucking… life! I don’t give two fucks if you need to atone or prove you’re worthy of love or whatever hang-up is keeping you awake at night. I WON’T let you take the rap for me!”
A heavy silence hung in the air and Tom suddenly felt the full weight of all his pent up emotions bearing down on him. Unwanted tears filled his dark eyes and his lower lip started to tremble. “Why won’t you let me do this?” he whispered in a fragile voice. “Why won’t you let me help you?”
The genuine misery expressed on Tom’s face calmed Booker’s anger and sitting back down on the bed, he took his hand and gave the fingers a gentle squeeze. “Because I couldn’t live with myself,” he explained quietly. “You need to do what’s right for you and so do I. I made a mistake and I need to face the consequences.”
“You’ll lose your job,” Tom stated in a flat voice, “and you’ll never forgive me for dragging you into this.”
“Does that bother you?” Booker asked expectantly. Suddenly, it seemed very important that he know exactly how Tom felt about him. Not that it would change his mind one way or the other but he needed to know if the moment of passion they had shared was real or just a need for release.
Tom pulled his hand away from Booker’s grasp and began picking nervously at the cotton blanket covering his legs. “We’ve been through a lot together,” he mumbled. “I don’t want you to hate me for ruining your life.”
Unwilling to let the matter drop, Booker pushed a little harder. “Why?” he asked softly. “Why do you care how I feel about you?”
But Tom was not about to admit his true feelings and closing his eyes, he turned away from Booker’s scrutinizing gaze. “Because there’s enough hate in the world already.”
****
Thursday October 19^th 1989 (6.48 p.m.)
Harry glared disbelievingly at Booker from across the small table in his hotel room. “What did you just say?”
Booker chewed nervously on his lower lip for several seconds before quietly repeating his statement. “Hanson didn’t hit you over the head with his gun, I did.”
The muscles flexed in Ioki’s jaw as he continuously clenched and unclenched his teeth, his aggravated expression forming a dark mask on his normally friendly, open face. “You assaulted me?” he clarified in a voice desperate not to believe. “I’m your partner, I trust you with my life. Why the hell would you do that?”
It was the sixty-four thousand dollar question but for Booker, the answer was clear. However, the dilemma was whether to admit to Harry his feelings for Hanson or just make up a lie to spare himself the humiliation. Ioki did not know he was bisexual and even though he was certain the young officer was not homophobic, he did not want his sexuality getting in the way of their working relationship. He loved Harry like a brother, they had worked side by side for nearly eight months and he too trusted him with his life. But as he gazed into his friend’s wounded eyes, he knew in his heart that he had to tell the truth; there had been enough lies told already.
Clearing his throat, he gave his partner a sheepish look. “I… um… I did it because… shit!” He paused for a long moment before finishing his statement in a rush of words. “I did it because I’m in love with Hanson.”
Ioki’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “You… love… Hanson?” he repeated slowly, his voice giving emphasis to the name of the man he struggled to relate to as ever having been his friend.
Booker’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red but his hands curled into tight fists in defense of his pride. “Yeah I do,” he snapped back. “Do you have a problem with that?”
As though in a daze, Ioki stood up and walking over to the bed, he sat down again. “You love Hanson,” he restated in a soft voice, as if repeating the words would help him to comprehend the information. He sat staring off into space for several moments before returning his gaze to Booker’s defiant face. “Jesus,” he muttered sympathetically, “the last few months must have been hell for you.”
Booker let out the breath he had been holding and managed a faint smile. “That’s the understatement of the year,” he quipped lamely. But when Harry did not respond, he walked over and sat next to him on the bed. “You’re not freaked out?”
Ioki looked up, his face a picture of understanding. “About you being in love with Hanson? No not really… I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with him? He’s gorgeous, right?”
A genuine smile graced Booker’s lips and his expression relaxed. “Asshole,” he chided with a chuckle. “So we’re good?”
A dark cloud passed over Ioki’s face. “I’m okay with your sexuality Booker but I’m having a little trouble understanding why you felt the need to pistol-whip me and take off with a wanted fugitive.”
Embarrassment and shame flushed Booker’s cheeks an even deeper shade of scarlet. “I’m sorry,” he muttered remorsefully. “I saw the gun in your hand and I panicked. I was terrified you were going to shoot him.”
Ioki’s head nodded slowly up and down as he digested Booker’s words. “Okay, I get that. But why did you go with him?”
Booker’s lip twitched nervously. “Because I wanted to save him,” he admitted softly. “I wanted the old Tommy back.”
Harry remained lost in thought for several minutes before returning his gaze to his friend. “If I don’t press charges, you won’t be charged with assault,” he stated matter-of-factly. “But we need to think of a reason why you would run off with Hanson. It needs to be something the department will believe but won’t get Tom into any more trouble.”
An incredulous look had Booker’s eyebrows rising in surprise. “You’d do that for him?”
“Not for him, for me,” Harry stated with a smile. “I don’t really feel like breaking in a new partner, it was hard enough with you.”
A large grin spread across Booker’s face. “You really are an asshole,” he laughed before his grin slowly faded. “But what the hell are we going to say?”
Ioki narrowed his eyes in thought before a small smile curled at the corners of his lips. “That’s easy… we tell the truth.”
- 15
- 16
- 17
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Chasing a Butterfly